finding the cure

Ever have one of those days, wait, make that weekends, when you aren't really motivated to do anything?  It's not like you're sad but you aren't exactly happy either.  And you aren't sick or tired,  you just don't want to do all that much!  That's what this weekend has been like for me.  I found myself kind of wandering from one project to another, starting a lot of things and finishing none of them.  Finally about noon today, I sat down to "analyze" my situation, looking for some kind of explanation for it all.  Not sure that I really found the reason for it, but I dang sure did find the cure!  


There's a little girl at my school, a real sweetheart in one of the kindergarten classes.  She had the misfortune of breaking her right arm on the playground this year and has been in a cast for several weeks now.  Her name is Nadonna (sure hope I spelled that right) and this is a picture of her with me at school a few weeks back.  

We are, I guess, the "charter members" of the "broken arm club at Lincoln Elementary".  As charter members, I think both of us would agree that we'd like to be the ONLY members of it!  Neither of us want for anyone else to have to go through all the "fun" (not) that we've had this year.  With luck, both she and I will get our casts off at about the same time....all of our fingers crossed with hope!  :)


This week when the weather turned colder, I had to stop and think about finding my gloves to put on.  Only I'd forgotten, I only needed one of them because "old lefty" well, "old lefty" is a little preoccupied wearing the neon pink splint.  It wasn't hard for me to find one glove because that's generally the way I take care of my gloves......lose one, have one!  Given that scenario, I had 7 gloves to choose from.  I knew there would be a reason to keep all of those strays.  


That day, when Nadonna came to school, I noticed that her little left hand was covered up with a glove and the arm in the cast was neatly tucked inside of her coat.  We laughed together when I said that I could only put on one glove too and that someday, both of us would be back to normal again.  This little girl is quite a trooper and she is not nearly as whiny about things as I have been....I could take a lesson or two from her good example.


At noon today, as I was thinking about my current situation, it dawned on me that if she and I had new gloves to wear, we'd only have to buy one pair....so off to Wal Mart I went with the sole purpose of finding us some new "hand warmers".  And find some, I did...3 pairs in fact.


This afternoon I made a journey to her home and told her about the gloves.  She had the cutest little grin on her face as I took them out of the bag.  Her smile was precious as she helped me cut the 3 pairs apart.  She got three and I got three...and when I hopefully get out of my splint pretty soon, then I'll give my 3 gloves to her.  When she gets her arm out of the cast, hopefully very soon as well, then she'll have 3 brand new PAIRS of gloves.  It was a "win-win" deal if ever I saw one.


As I drove away from her house just a while ago, my spirit was definitely lifted.  It was like I was carrying around a "backpack" filled with worries, fears, the unknown...and anything else that can bring you down quicker than you can imagine.  That backpack had been so heavy this weekend that I was not able to do much of anything it seemed.  What a relief to throw that heavy thing off at the corner and drive away.  And it was all with thanks to a little girl who didn't even know how badly I'd been feeling and how much visiting with her changed the way I was looking at life today. 


You know, there was one added  "bonus" to this visit.  Nadonna and I are used to seeing one another in the gym for breakfast each morning or in the hallway when her class passes by my room.  This day,  I actually got the chance to see Nadonna at her own home.  As a teacher, I need to visit my students more often at their homes and meet their families .  Nadonna's parents are wonderful folks who love their kids so very much.   They wish for their children the same thing that we all do...a wonderful life.  What a pleasure to meet them.


Well, it's not quite 4 p.m. and if I hustle I can probably finish at least a couple of those projects that I started but didn't finish...and if I don't...well, so I guess they'll be there tomorrow.  My shoulders don't ache any more~ and friends, what's the best cure for a "ho-hum" kind of day? Spend at least 5 minutes of it with a little kid and my friends, you WILL see the difference.  I promise~it's a sure thing.  :)

Now THIS is making "lemonade from lemons" my friends!  What a great afternoon to be alive!

Time to press on....

From time to time, I get some pretty unexpected things delivered to me by Keith, the mailman.  By the way, he NEVER forgets to deliver the "expected" things that we all commonly refer to as bills.  On Monday of this past week, my mailbox contained a small post card from The Bicycle Pedaler in Wichita.  At the top of the card it read "Important Recall Notice".  What the heck?  I read on.


My bike, a 2011 Vita Elite, was one of 9 types of  bicycles made in 2011 that could possibly have a LITTLE bit of an issue with its carbon fork.  Seems as though the "brake boss" that lies inside the fork of the bike has been known to disengage itself from the fork which then allows the ENTIRE brake assembly to come into contact with the spokes of the wheel as they are rotating.  And folks it doesn't take much to figure out that if THAT happens, the only way you are going is straight DOWN.  Thus, anyone with one of those 9 models of bikes will be getting new forks to correct that problem.


When I mentioned the recall notice to one of my friends, their response was, "Peggy, maybe that's what caused you to wreck your bike!"  My answer was, "no".   I wrecked my bike because I was going too fast for the conditions and tried unsuccessfully to jump a curb.  That was "operator error" not manufacturer fault.  But, hey they had to at least give it a shot.  As a matter of fact, I was always surprised that my bike suffered hardly any damage, short of breaking off the mirror.  "Old lefty" took the brunt of the fall and so when you look at my bike today, it pretty much looks like it did the day I brought it home in March.  


The recall notice admonishes owners of these 9 brands of bikes to stop riding them immediately and make sure to get them fixed.  Well, I didn't have to worry about the "stop riding them immediately" part but I did call to order the fork and will be delivering my bike to Bicycle Pedaler in Wichita later on today.  My bike will probably fixed and good as new by Friday of this upcoming week~perfect timing, I'll be in Wichita anyway.


Friday, November 4th, will hopefully be (every finger crossed that I've got) my very last doctor appointment before they dismiss me from their care due to the accident.  Kind of ironic (but as far as I'm concerned "irony" is now my middle name), it will be 3 months to "the day" that the accident happened to begin with.  Over 12 long weeks of dealing with "Old Lefty's" predicament will have passed and a lot of lessons have been learned.  Realizing of course that there is that ever so slight chance that they will say "You know Peggy, just to be safe, let's go another month with the splint."  But my real hope, my real desire, is that I hear the words "Time to throw that splint away~you're looking good."  I guess we'll be finding out soon.


If I hear those sweet words...."You made it!", I know what the very first question out of my mouth will be.  Can you figure it out before I tell you? "When can I ride my bike again....not talking about on the trainer, but for real...out on the street?"  Friends I really don't have any idea about what they'll say.  But I can bet that Dr. Chan's response will be prefaced with a deep, drawn in breath and a serious look on his face.  Guess I'll find that out on Friday as well.  


When everything first happened, especially in the first 3 weeks, I really did doubt that I'd ever cycle again.  Things looked so bleak, so dismal.  First the external fixator on the outside, then the bone graft and plate/screws on the inside.  5 different casts, what seemed like a hundred trips back and forth to the doctor and physical therapist.  Until early October, I wasn't even healed up enough to think about being able to grasp the handle bar again...and yeah, fat chance that I'd ever be able to use the shifter or the brake on the left side.  


About 3 weeks ago, things began to improve dramatically for "old lefty".  The numbness went away, slowly but surely.  I began to be able to make more of a decent looking fist and I even dared to get on the bike (on the trainer of course!) and lean over to grasp the handle bars and use the shifter and brakes.  It wasn't a piece of cake but it was easier than I thought it would be.  And nothing bad happened because I tried to do it.  If Dr. Chan gives me the "green light" to ride any time that I want to, physically I believe I'll be ready.


Unfortunately, there is one small problem.  Take a look at the excerpt below from my blog entry dated June 4th, one day before leaving for the Bike Across Kansas.  Seems like that "small problem" has been with me before.


"I have much on my mind as I consider what lies ahead of me.  I would be lying if I said I had no fear, because I do.  My biggest concern is NOT of whether or not I can ride the whole way, because I know that I can.  The wind may slow me down, or force me to stop momentarily but it won't "get" me this time.  The hills, well what can I say....they're hills!  I haven't had near the hill practice that I would have liked but I know how to ride them.  And perhaps, there may be a hill or 2 that I will have to walk my bike up.  And if that's the case, then so be it.  One thing I have FINALLY learned in this life is that foolish pride will get in you big trouble, every single time!  My biggest concern, one I have had from the beginning, is my own mental attitude.  I know that my attitude will either defeat me or lift me up when the going gets pretty bad.  *From June 4, 2011 blog entry


There you have it friends...my small problem is the mental attitude that I'm taking right now about getting back on that bike.  As I said in that blog entry, posted just before leaving on what was supposed to be a nearly 500 mile trip, I would be lying if I said that I had no fear about getting back on that bike.  It scares me to think of it~and this "confession" coming from someone who loves biking.  But after spending 12 weeks recuperating from a bad accident that could have been even worse, the whole idea of getting on that bike and riding down the street again is a little unnerving.  So, what to do?


If I were to sell the bike and find some other form of exercise to do on a daily basis, then I'd never have to worry about having a cycling accident again.  That's a given!  I'd be safe, at least from that kind of a calamity.  But just because I no longer would have an accident while riding a bike, doesn't mean that something else won't happen to me.  Some days, it's a gamble to just get in your vehicle and drive down the road to work.  But that doesn't stop us from doing it.


I could continue to ride the bike, remembering of course to be more careful next time, and enjoy many more miles of riding pleasure.  I'd be able to return to one of the greatest "stress relievers" of all time and in all likelihood, that's what I will probably do.  But I have to get over this anxiety, this fear of another accident happening.  That may or may not be easy....time will tell.


Whatever should happen to me on Friday and whatever should happen in the weeks that follow, one thing I am sure of is that I'm not going to stop trying.  Knowing always that there is a reason for all that happens to us, I just hope I learned all the lessons from this experience that I was supposed to.  If not, then I'll be expecting God to give me another "whack on the head" soon so I can pick up on whatever it was that He was trying to show me in the first place.  I've said it before and I say it again to you today, I am a slow learner.  


With absolutely NO fear, I can say.......This is a wonderful day to be alive!  I press on, still more determined than I am afraid.  Have a great weekend all of you!  Take care of one another and remember to have some fun today.  

The memories are not ALL bad!  When you are not trying to be an "Evil Knieval stunt woman", then biking can be a whole lot of fun.  I'm going to return to that fun some day soon.  I promise you that and I MEAN IT!

And now, for the rest of the story

Here it is the evening hours and my 56th birthday is about to come to a close.  It's been a wonderful day, filled with many blessings.  As the day ends, I've got one last story to tell.  When I finish it, I do hope you will understand......


This afternoon I made a trip to Laurel Cemetery just outside of my hometown of Haven, Ks.  It's a beautiful cemetery, quiet and serene, flanked by wheat fields in the summer time and a steady stream of Amish horses and buggies that pass by on the dirt road that runs by its entrance.  


I grew up learning how to walk the cemeteries, taught by two of the most wonderful women that I knew, my Mom and my Grandmother Brown.  I learned at a very early age that there was nothing to fear by going there and that a whole lot of history lessons could be learned by walking among the rows and reading the gravestones of people you knew and those you had never met.  I thank those two women in my life for showing me that you could find a lot of peace by visiting the hallowed ground that was the final resting place for so many people, all gone before us.


Today I had a purpose in going, a reason for finding some peace.  And I found "it" in the south eastern corner of Laurel Cemetery.  I was looking for the graves of two young men who died 44 years ago in the jungles of Vietnam.  Their names were Henry Fisher and Sergio Albert and they were from my hometown--Haven, Kansas.  

The Vietnam War had been raging on for several years when Sergio and Henry died, within 6 days of one another, in 1967.  I was only 11 years old but I still remember the shock the town felt to realize that two of its own young men were now a part of the casualty count of the Vietnam War.  


Vietnam had seemed so very far away from the pastoral setting of small-town life in Haven.  Oh yeah, we had read about it and you couldn't miss it on the evening news each night, but to lose two young men within such a short time of one another was so very devastating to their families as well as the entire town of Haven.  Their deaths left a lasting impact on me and whenever I visited Laurel Cemetery in the months and years ahead, I always found myself looking for their graves to stop and think about them for a moment.


Year after year, it seemed like the war just kept going on with no end in sight.  The draft had been reinstated and our family had said our good-byes to my older brother, Mike Scott, as he went off to Vietnam for a year in late 1967.  I can still remember the look in my folks' eyes as Mike's plane lifted off in Wichita that autumn afternoon.  They had to be thinking, would they ever see him again?  


By the time I had made it to high school in 1969, the effects of the war were seen everywhere in the U.S.  Anti-war protests were common place on college campuses as the dissent against being in Vietnam was rising.  Draft cards were burned and veterans coming back home again were often met with scorn from people who didn't understand why the United States was involved in the war.  It was such a confusing time for kids my age as we watched our country being torn apart by the effects of a war that seemed to have no end.....where could we find some peace?  The answer came in the form of a piece of jewelry...known at that time as a "P.O.W." bracelet.  


I remember sending off $1 for one to be sent to me from Colorado Springs.  I was a sophomore in high school the day that it arrived in the mail and when I put it on my left wrist, I vowed to keep it on until the person whose name was on my bracelet was accounted for.  I wore it faithfully for the next 3 years until finally it snapped into two pieces.  But I kept it in my jewelry box and refused to throw it away.  I am 56 years old now but I have never forgotten the name of my P.O.W. and today I decided it was high time for me to honor his memory.  His name was Lee Nordahl and although I never knew him, his life had a profound impact upon mine.


Lee Edward Nordahl was a 26-year old navy pilot from Choteau, Montana.  In December of 1965, Lee was the co-pilot for a reconnaissance mission over North Vietnam.  Shortly after take off, the plane he was in was shot down by enemy fire and both he and the pilot were considered M.I.A. because there was no proof that they had indeed died in the crash.  Years later, the remains of the pilot, Guy D. Johnson, were returned to the U.S.  Lee Nordahl's were never returned and no knowledge of his whereabouts were ever confirmed.  To this day, he is listed M.I.A.


Today I decided to honor the memory of the man on my bracelet, who, if he were still living today, would be 72 years old.  I remembered him today when I received a tattoo on my left leg, as shown below.....

Ok, I can read some of your minds from my dining room table and some of the thoughts are sounding like, "Peggy are you crazy?"  Well, friends, I've been told that before many times.  I've often said that if I ever did get a tattoo it would be when I was older (hey that fits today) and when I had a real purpose, a real meaning to any permanent marking on my body.  Today I feel that I do.  The initials L E N stand for his name, U S N is for his branch of service and the date is the official date of loss by the government.  The peace symbol, well that speaks for itself.  


I hope that people do ask me about it...I want to tell his story and to make people aware of a time so very long ago and so very far away called the "Vietnam War".  So many lives lost, so many people injured, so many people still suffering the effects today even years later.  May the generations of the future never forget what happened there and the price paid with so many American lives.  May you rest in peace, Lee Nordahl and all the others who gave their lives in the jungles of Vietnam.


"Greater love has no one than this, that he lays down his life for his friends."  John 15:13

Peggy's birthday-part 1

My friends, this has been the greatest of days to be alive....and turning another year older hasn't hurt a bit!  So right from the "get go", let me tell any of you who are dreading that next birthday for one reason or another.....stop worrying about it and just embrace it.  We all know what the "alternative" is so just be glad for another year of life, no matter if you are 36, 56, or 86.  Ok, end of my sermon, AMEN.

I took a personal day off from school today to enjoy doing some of the stuff I like to do, but seldom find the time to do it.  My day started off great with a trip to Wichita with Grahame to meet Ricky and his girlfriend, Angie, for breakfast.  I can't remember the last time we ate our morning meal together but today it was time.  

We ate a place called "Jimmy's Diner", a great establishment with a setting of 1950's, 1960's Americana.  The coolest part of it, in my books, is the miniature juke box that is in each booth.  Friends, I gotta tell you, I grew up in a restaurant in Haven, KS.  Way too much of my hard earned tip money was fed to the jukebox in our restaurant on a daily basis.  I have no idea how much I spent, but it was more than a plenty.  Good thing I really don't know--it would be depressing.  

This morning at Jimmy's, I relived those days of long ago as I looked through the song list and decided which ones I might like to hear.  Unfortunately, most of the songs on their jukebox list are from the 50's and 60's......and even though I turned 56 today, it still wasn't music from my generation (the 70's).  But I am child #6 of 7, remember?  So those songs from the 60's were at least familiar to me from listening to them over and over and over again as they were played by my older brothers and sisters at home.  I decided, what the heck, I wouldn't really be wasting money...I'd be promoting the economic growth of Sedgwick County.  Made perfect sense to me.

It sounded like I was at a slot machine at Vegas as those quarters slid down into the machine.  One after the other, 12 quarters were fed into the machine.  I used the fingers of "old lefty" to feed them into the machine so hey, that was my occupational therapy for the day.  There was definitely a method to the madness.  

I was lucky that the trio of "20 somethings" didn't mind listening to my choices of music-at least if they did, they didn't let on too much!  Oh the choices were wonderful-those of you who are not at LEAST my age will not recognize any of the following names and really, don't fret over that.  But you can always ask your parents or another responsible adult to fill you in.

Hey, for those of you who are old enough to remember, here's what I chose:

Good Vibrations/Beach Boys (hey I accidently pushed this one twice so we heard it more than once)

Green Onion/Booker T and the MGS

Indian Lake/The Cowsills

La Bamba/Ritchie Valens

Creque Alley/The Mamas and the Papas

12:30-Young Girls Are Coming To The Canyon/The Mamas and The Papas

Mama Told Me Not To Come/3 Dog Night

It was so fun to eat breakfast with the kids and laugh and carry on like a bunch of teenagers again.  The hour we spent together just flew by and before we knew it, it was time to leave.  When I pulled the camera out of my purse, my boys' eyes rolled and I may have heard a slight groan or two.  They know that I always take pictures of us together, because, well, they are just growing up too fast.  LOL!  And they aren't really crazy about it.  They've been known to remove the camera card or one of the batteries to try and fool their old mom into thinking that there is a problem with the camera.  But I've caught on to their tricks and they knew there was no turning back this morning.  So before we left Wichita, we preserved the moment in time......

Ricky and his girlfriend, Angie, and Grahame 

October 26, 2011 at Wichita

I love those 2 boys and their sister with all of my heart.

On the way coming back this morning, my cell phone started ringing and when I answered it, I received one big surprise.  There into the receiver I heard perhaps the sweetest rendition of the "Happy Birthday" song that I have ever witnessed.  My dear friend, Carol Stockton, and her class of kindergarten children at Wiley Elementary here in Hutch serenaded me without missing a beat.  I thought I might cry, but I kept it together.  Many years ago, I would have my students do the same thing for my grandmother's birthday and what memories this morning's call brought back.  When I got back, I stopped to visit their classroom and offer my thanks for the best birthday present a person could ever imagine getting...the gift of their "hearts".   I challenge anyone to locate that on the shelf of Wal Mart.  Here we are in the photo below:

Thank you Carol and children for making this old teacher's day a special one...more special than you can ever know.  

From Wiley School, I headed over to my old "stomping grounds" Avenue A Elementary here in Hutch.  I wanted to have the chance to visit all of the teachers and kids that had such a positive impact upon me during my 8 years there.  How wonderful to see the staff, hard at work like always, trying to make a difference in the lives of the students there.  Avenue A folks, you deserve a lot of praise for what you are doing for your students.  I'm so proud of you all.  

It was sweet to hear one of the little kids that I had when I was the ESL teacher there, come up to me and say "Maestra".  That word is a word of endearment to me and when he said it, my heart felt like singing and crying at the same time.  Oh, how I loved those kids.  Here's the photo that was taken on what was supposed to be MY LAST DAY OF BEING A TEACHER, EVER in 2010.....little did I know!

What a great group of kids to teach!  I never will forget my time there with them.  What a blessing!

Thus far, it's been a great birthday.  But I think the most unusual part, the most meaningful part, is going to happen very soon.  I'll add another post later on this evening when I get back.  Thank you for the birthday wishes all of you.  I am more than blessed to have you as my friends and family.

Because she gave me life~

Every year for about 20 years or so, I would send my mom a bouquet of flowers on October 26th.  Always a card attached would read:  "Thank you mom for not stopping with child #5!" and she always knew exactly what I meant.  


Wednesday is my birthday, my 56th one to be exact.  On that day, in the year 1955 at 10:32 a.m., little Peggy Ann Scott made her appearance in this world.   I was the 6th child born to my wonderful parents, John and Lois Scott.  Two years later, our little sister Cindy was born~making us a family with 7 children.  And the rest is, as they say, "history".


My mom often told me the story about what happened when I was born and it was always told with a smile on her face.  All 7 of us kids were born in Newton, KS at Bethel Deaconess Hospital, which is now no longer in existence.  Sister Mary Anna, a Catholic nun and the RN for the "baby doctors" of the day, was present with my mom at all of our births. Mom always spoke so kindly of her and told stories of how she helped my mom through the labor leading to our arrivals in this world.


My mom's doctor, Dr. Schmidt, had delivered all 5 kids before me and I was to be no exception.   When my parents arrived in the early morning hours of what would be my "birth" day,  Dr. Schmidt was nowhere to be found.  After some time had passed, my parents were told that he would be in late that morning because, and oh I loved this part, he had been out at the supper club the night before and evidently had just a little more than he should have to drink.  


Mom got a little panicky and really started to be afraid that I would arrive before HE did and she relayed that fear to Sister Mary Anna.  I'll never forget what Mom told me she said.  "Lois, we've been through this together five times before.  You and I really don't even NEED him!"  That eased Mom's anxiety....Sister Mary Anna was that kind of person, always calm, cool, collected.  


I was only 5 minutes away from arriving when they heard Dr. Schmidt's footsteps coming down the hallway.  He was cheerfully whistling a tune, acting totally oblivious to the fact that I was coming and RIGHT NOW!  After Mom and Sister Mary Anna gave him a piece of their collective minds, he just smiled and helped to deliver me, a little 5 1/2 pound baby girl.  I got my very first spanking of life and here I am nearly 6 decades later. 


The memories of my birth are very precious to me at this point in time.  Mom and Dad are both gone now and I guess that officially makes my siblings and I "orphans".  I think so often of how it was that I came from a big family and how very difficult it must have been for them to take care of us all in the manner that they did. 


 It was only when we were grown ups with kids of our own that Mom divulged the truth about our economic situation.  And that simple truth was that we didn't have much money~in fact by today's standards we might have been considered "poor".  But the beauty of it all was that we never knew it as kids.  We just figured everyone was like us...oh Mom and Dad you sure had us fooled, seriously we NEVER figured it out!  :)  


Daddy was a farmer and he drove a milk truck as a second job.  Times were tight, very lean and when they brought me home, I was "mouth #6" to feed.  But feed all of us, they did.  I was always amazed at the way Mom seemed to manage to stretch the food supply to keep all of us with a tummy full of food.  Not a one of us EVER went hungry!


Because we lived on a farm, a certain degree of self-sufficiency was already in place.   Mom gardened, Dad raised a cow for the beef and a pig for pork.  Oh and the chickens...we never were allowed to get "too friendly" with them because you never knew which one would be your next meal.  :) And heaven forbid if you EVER named them!   Have you ever eaten fried chicken for breakfast?  We did and really there is nothing any tastier than a freshly butchered chicken fried up in an old cast iron skillet.  You just waited until chore time to figure out which rooster you just ate.  It worked out better and was less "painful" that way.


As I approach this milestone day this week, I'm remembering my parents and the sacrifices they made for me and my brothers and sisters.  As a kid, I never gave it a second thought but as an adult with 3 grown children of my own, I stand in "awe" of how they managed to keep a brood of 7 children going strong.  And if they ever complained about it, they never did around me!


A lot of people ask me about the "Living Legacy" #6 out of 7 decal on the back windshield of my pick up.  And to them I always give the same response.....


Our parents didn't leave a lot of money or land or that many worldly possessions behind when their lives ended here.  They left things way more valuable than all the gold in the world--they left their children and their children's children behind.  It became easier for me to accept the fact that they were both gone when I realized that I was one of their "living legacies"...that their blood flows through my blood and in the blood of my children.  They are with me always, no matter what happens to me.  And you know, I kind of like to look at it in that way.  


Mom, the days of applesauce birthday cake with no raisins or frosting are long gone but I haven't forgotten them or you.  Because you decided to "give me life" I am here today.  Thank you for making sure that Scott kids #1, #2, #3, #4, #5, #6 and #7 would arrive here "safe and sound".  The gift of life means more and more to me each day.  


Dear friends-make sure that you thank your mom for giving you life and do it before it's too late.  I'm glad that I had the opportunity to tell mine  before she passed away--have NO regrets friends and do it right away.  And if you have a mom still, give her an extra hug from me.  

Mom and Dad, won't be forgetting any time "TOO SOON."

Before it's too late-

He was born on the first anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1942.   When he died on July 16th, 1981 in a fiery crash on the Long Island Expressway in New York, he was one of the most beloved singers of his time.  I will never forget where I was the day I heard of his passing....sitting in the living room of my home in Haven, Kansas....listening to radio station KEYN out of Wichita.  I couldn't believe it when I heard the announcement-"Harry Chapin has been killed today in an accident in New York.  He was 38 years old."

                                             Harry Forster Chapin     1942-1981


There is no doubt in my mind that Harry Chapin would have to be my most favorite singer of all time.  In the 30 years that have passed since his death, I have enjoyed the music of a lot of singers and groups.  But none have ever measured up to the caliber of the music that made Harry the singer, songwriter and performer that he was.  I doubt seriously that anyone will ever make the impression upon me with their music the way Harry Chapin did.


He became famous for songs like Cats in the Cradle, WOLD, Taxi, and A Better Place to Be.  The world loved his music, they loved him and in the very brief span of time in his life, he touched the lives of countless people worldwide.  Harry Chapin had much to say in his music, so much that radio stations had difficulties in being able to or even choosing to play his songs.  Chapin's musical work did not fit the "standard 3 min. 37 sec. format" that other songs of the day did. It was not uncommon at all for his songs to run at least 4-5 minutes, even longer.  But that didn't dissuade him....he just kept right on writing.  And the world was better for it.


You know I always had this secret wish to be able to see him perform some day.  It might have been hard for a young woman planted smack dab in the middle of the state of Kansas to get to a Harry Chapin performance....but that didn't stop me from dreaming about being able to go.  When he died, I realized that my chance to see him was gone.....the goal to watch him peform one day would never be attained.  In sadness, I nearly wore out my copy of the album "Verities and Balderdash", listening to it in the months that followed his death.  


There was no "Miller Bucket List" back in 1981....why would a young woman, age 26, even need to worry about  such a thing back then?  I was a "brand new" mother with a tiny 8-month baby boy named Ricky.  I had plenty of time to do all the things that I wanted to before life ended....at least I thought I did.  Harry Chapin would be around for ever!  Sooner or later, I'd see him in concert, I was sure.  


I've since learned that a bucket list can go both ways.  We sit around and think of things we want to do before WE "kick the bucket" and we envision the people we want to do those things with.  Only it turns out that sometimes the people and the things you want to see aren't there any longer when you finally get around to it.


Tomorrow night, thanks to the kindness of my very dear friend, Carol Stockton, I get an early birthday treat when we travel to Salina to see the 70's/80's group, America.  Their songs are great as well and I can remember the words to A Horse With No Name better than I can remember the password to my school email account.  Could you possibly explain that one to me friends?  :)  Perhaps you, too, find yourself in a similar predicament at times. 


 What a special gift, to be able finally see a group that was such an important part of the music I grew up with, perform their songs!  My thank you to my dear friend Carol for providing the means to see them before either they get too old to perform or I get to old to even remember them!  LOL


The thing I'd like to say is this:  DO NOT PUT OFF STUFF THAT YOU REALLY WANT TO DO BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE TO DO IT.  How many opportunities have we all passed up or let slip away from us because we thought, as the fallible human beings we are, that there would be tomorrow?  And so very many times, sadly to say, tomorrow never arrives.  


Please dear friends, for today, be good to yourself.  Do something, do ONE thing that you've always wanted to do or to try but never got around to it.  My prayer is for all of us to have yet one more day, one more month, one more year together.  Unfortunately, life is very fragile, and tomorrows have never been guaranteed.  Have a wonderful weekend all of you!

Leaps of Faith

The last thing I said to Kim "the taskmaster" before he flipped the switch to "on" was, "You know, I really want to be able to live to see my 56th birthday next week!"  His response was, "You PROBABLY might!" With a grin on his face, he started the new therapy.  And that new way of treating "old lefty" was called, "High Voltage Galvanic Stimulation".  Sounds exciting enough to sign up for right now, doesn't it?  :)  Now please, don't all of you "message" me at once, ok?  There will be room for all, I'm sure!


I'm not even sure I can even explain the procedure, except at "first glance" it goes against every safety rule that my mom and dad taught me as a child.  It involved putting "old lefty" in a bucket of water and then inserting a probe that is hooked up to a machine that sends out electrical impulses into the water.  And when Kim asked me, prior to starting it yesterday at my P.T. appointment, if I would like my hair curled~well, I began to wonder what on earth I had agreed to do.  


So for the next 20 minutes, I received the "shock" of those electrical impulses for 10 seconds which was then followed by a 10 second rest period.  The action of the "charged" impulses caused the muscles in my hand to contract and as I watched the water, I could see that my fingers curled up, not to relax until the 10 seconds were over.  What a weird feeling!  


At first, it was a little unmanageable but I soon grew used to the 10 second "active" period.  In fact, after a while I was wishing I could have had 30 minutes rather than 20.  The whole idea behind this therapy is to help reduce some of the significant swelling that is in my wrist area.  This morning, 12 hours after having received it, I must admit that I think it did help a bit.  And as long as something helps, then I'm willing to at least give it a try.


As I  near what I "hope" to be my final weeks of doctor visits and therapy sessions, I am reminded of just how fortunate I am to have received the medical care that I did.  It could have been so much different had I been anywhere else in the world, in any other time. Thanking God daily for that these days.  I have had a lot of time to pause and consider all of this lately.


Friends, I have bellyached non-stop sometimes about how high my Blue Cross health insurance  premiums are these days while others around me have gone WITHOUT any insurance at all.  Between the two surgeries and additional care I have received, my hospital bills climbed to nearly $50,000.  Thankfully nearly all of it was covered by insurance~and YET I was complaining about paying high premiums? Without health insurance, there would have been no way that I could pay off that kind of bill in the foreseeable future, and I know it!  Geesch.....


I have been blessed with 2 doctors (Dr. Scott Goin of the Hutchinson Clinic and Dr. Prince Chan of the Kansas Orthopaedic Center in Wichita) who are wonderful surgeons, and what one was unable to do, the other one could do instead.  I haven't had to drive terribly far to get to either of their offices.  And thank goodness I finally started to learn to drive in Wichita~I can get myself to and from the Kansas Orthopaedic Center with little trouble.  I wonder how many people there are in this world who lives hundreds of miles from the nearest doctor or hospital.  Who helps them when they are hurt?  How many people live in this world of ours without any medical care at all?  I have a lot of time to pause and think about stuff like this lately.  


I live in a time where there are such things as "donor bone tissue", external fixator devices, casts made from lightweight fiberglass material, X-ray machines, and health care facilities that are clean and sanitary almost 99.9% of the time.  What would my predicament have been like 50 years ago, the early 1900's, or even earlier back in time? I've often said to people that if I would have been born in the times when Kansas was just a prairie that my family would have left me on the side of the road ready to catch the first bus back east.  They would have been tired of listening to me whine all the time. Imagine me breaking an arm back then.....nah, don't cause it's not a pretty picture.   LOL


I have had to take a lot of "leaps of faith" in this life of mine, with several of them coming since my August 4th accident.  I have to admit that, at first,  I really wasn't crazy about sticking my hand in that bucket of water yesterday afternoon.  My initial instinct was to say to Kim, "Hey, I'm sorry but my mom doesn't let me put my hand in a bucket of water when electrical impulses are shooting into it."  But I trust Kim and know that he will only do what is right for me.  He has my best interests in mind~he won't let anything hurt me.  


Oh yeah, and finally, it seems like it was a big "leap of faith" that got me into this mess in the first place.  You know, that belief I had that I could "leap" that curb on my bicycle like I was Superwoman, or something?  Well, sometimes leaps of faith are good for us and sometimes, ahem, ....not so much.  Yet today, I will still choose to try those things that I'm not sure what the end result will be.  Leaps of faith, for the most part, are wonderful things that just continue to lead us down the road we're supposed to be on anyway.  It's all "part of the plan" friends....just all "part of the plan."  Have a great Friday everyone!










  

"Between a rock and a hard place"-why you should NEVER give up!

Friends, one of the BEST parts of being a teacher is when a lesson can be taught that is TOTALLY unplanned for the day.  You know, it's the kind of lesson that never could be explained in a teacher's guide or in the plan book lying on your desk.  Hey, I don't even think it's on the list of Kansas State Standards.  But to me, those kinds of lessons are some of the most important ones that kids could ever learn.  Lucky for my group of 4th and 5th grade reading students last week, we had just that special opportunity.


As we were looking through our readers on this past Thursday, one of the kids spied a photo of a young man, dressed in hiker's garb, with an artificial right arm--hook attached.  It immediately caught their attention as well as mine.  Who was this guy?  Why did he have a hook for an arm?  What happened?  We soon found out.  You can check out his photo right below.

In late April of 2003, this adventurous 27-year old was hiking in the canyons of south eastern Utah.  Aron Ralston  was hiking alone, with no one knowing his real whereabouts, when a tragic accident occurred. One of the boulders he was climbing down became dislodged and Aron found himself with his right forearm pinned, literally "between a rock and a hard place."  


As the kids started to read his story, we were amazed and inspired by what he had to do to survive. For 5 days, he found himself pinned, unable to free himself from the boulder.  He took tiny sips periodically from what little precious water he had.  By the fourth day, beginning to be sure that it was his time to die, he took a small knife and carved out the date of his birth and when he anticipated his date of death would be along with his name on the wall beside him.  Aron wanted to be sure that someone would know it was him.  But on the fifth day, he awoke with a renewed spirit and decided that if he was going to  live, he was going to have to amputate his arm.  And he was going to have to do it with the only tool he had on him, a fairly dull pocket knife.  Miraculously enough, Aron was able to do it and free himself from the boulder.  His story is told in book and movie. Perhaps you have seen it or read his book.


I never saw a group of kids so FULL of questions as they were after we read the story.  They were intrigued by his experience and wanted to know more.  So we got online and read as much as we could about him.  And they are STILL talking about the guy who "amputated his own arm" to save himself....all from a story that we didn't even plan to read for the day.  


I asked the kids this question:  "If you were him, if you were in his predicament, could you do what he had to do to survive?  In other words, would you be able to cut off your own arm?"  By a majority, almost all of them said they would be able to.  And their reason?  It's because they still wanted to live!  They wouldn't mind having to have an artificial arm with a hook as long as they didn't have to die.  Oh wow, the "human spirit" was alive and well in our school that day!


After we read the story, one of the kids said to me, "Mrs. Miller, aren't you glad that you didn't have to amputate your arm when you wrecked your bike?"  My response to that question was "Boy I sure am!"  AND PEGGY MILLER THOUGHT THAT SHE HAD IT BAD!  Geesch-"old lefty's" still attached, 5 fingers and all! A good lesson for me on a day when I was a little bit whiny about still not being able to use the left arm perfectly.  "Wake up" call #139 from God.  I told you, I am a slow learner!


My friends, have you ever found yourself "between a rock and a hard place?"  Have you ever been in situations that it didn't seem like you could win either way but you still had to make a choice?  We all do  from time to time~seems like that's part of life as we know it.  Maybe you are there right now.  Right now, you could probably answer this statement:  Our family is really struggling with _________________________________.  You could fill in the blank with anything from lack of finances, loss of job, issues of poor health, the need to find a care home for an aging parent, trouble finding suitable and affordable housing or a billion other things.  It happens to ALL of us~You are most certainly not alone!


There is the sweetest little kindergarten girl at my school who is a fellow member of the "broken arm" club.  She's in one of those long-arm casts, the kind that drove me crazy for 6 weeks.  At this point in time, she's about a month behind my progress.  At the breakfast table this morning at school, I noticed that she was sitting there with her tray of food untouched.  As I went over to see how it was going, I saw why.  She couldn't open up her cereal, milk, juice, or yogurt~oh yeah, been there, done that!  I asked her if I could help her and the look on her face said what no words would ever be able to explain.  That expression said to me...."Mrs. Miller, I want this to be over last week already!  I'm tired of this cast~"  and I sure did understand.  When I left her table, my parting words were....."Don't give up.  It gets better."  And for the first time in a very long time, I actually believed it myself.


I guess the moral to this story was "DON'T GIVE UP-EVER!" and that is what I wish for all of you my dear friends and family.  The old saying "This too shall pass" is so appropriate for most things we seem to have to endure in life.  And if all else fails, just do as the poster admonishes you to do-"When you think you are at the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on!"  Dear friends, please remember to hang on. 


 And as my favorite "tv" guy, Red Greene says, "Remember, we're all in this together."

if walls could talk-and thank goodness they can't

I went back to my childhood home today in Haven, but it wasn't the one I was raised in. And if the walls in that house on North Topeka Street could talk, I'd probably have to take a second job to pay them off....LOL  


I went back there to visit my "second" mom, Irma Perriman.  Hey, this is her--looking better and better all the time.  It had been over 25 years since I had seen her--this visit was SO long overdue.

Irma Perriman's daughter, Kathy, was my very good friend all through grade school and high school.  She was the friend who, in the 6th grade, invited me over to her house to go trick-or-treating with her.  I was a farm kid who had never gone door to door without my parents, dressed in a weird costume, and begged total strangers for candy.  So it was for me the first, last and only time to go trick-or-treating. It was a lot of fun and I never forgot it.


That house on Topeka Street pretty much had an "open" door policy.  If a kid needed a place to be for a bit, they always knew that Bill and Irma Perriman would greet them with a smile and open arms.  There could be 12 kids around the supper table, but I swear if a 13th one showed up, Irma would just tell everyone to scoot over and she'd manage to find a way to divide supper up for all of them.  After football and basketball games, during summer vacations, over Christmas break-the Perriman house must have had a steady parade of kids in and out of its doors.  And that's just the way Bill and Irma wanted it to be!  So if it wasn't Kathy's friends showing up at the door, then it was  probably a friend of one of her 3 brothers--Jim, Ed, or Bob.  Didn't matter to the Perrimans because a "kid was a kid".


Irma was the kind of mom that you'd buy a Mother's Day card for that read:  "Because you've always been like a mother to me..."  She was every kid's mother, much like my own mom and a huge host of other women in my hometown of Haven.  My parents never worried if they realized I was at Kathy's house.  They knew that the Perrimans would be watching over me and wouldn't allow me to do anything that they wouldn't.  Trust me, they were right about that!


As I sat there visiting in the living room of her home, I couldn't help but be reminded just how much the house was still the very same.  Little had changed and that provided a real sense of comfort for me.  The Perriman house was, and remains today, a very comfortable house to be in.  It's a kind of house that says, "Hey, come in and sit down and feel at home.  You belong here." And you were always glad!


I have to admit that I kind of daydreamed a bit when I was sitting on that couch visiting.  After all, we WERE sitting in a room that many Friday and Saturday nights housed half a dozen young high school girls who were up most of the night gabbing and carrying on like a bunch of teenage girls would do.  Never did understand why they called those things "slumber parties" because I didn't notice a whole lot of sleeping going on.  Most times, I can't imagine how Kathy's parents even managed to sleep with all the commotion we girls were making.  Guess they just got used to it or something.  I could still imagine us all sprawled out on that living room floor--sleeping bags and pillows, probably someone's transistor radio going full blast on KLEO-1450 AM.  And all the while, "blab, blab, blab, blab, blab".   And by the way, if you don't know what a transistor radio is, please ask your parents or another grown up.  :)


The "statute of limitations" has long run out on anything that we kids could have done while at those slumber parties-LOL...We girls were harmless, believe me.  But a whole lot of secrets were shared, a whole lot of dreams for life were dreamt right there on that living room floor.  I could be wrong, because a lot of water has gone under THAT bridge, but I think that the worst thing we thought of doing was sneaking out of the house and dragging Main a couple of times without waking up Bill and Irma.  But you know, I don't think we ever did that-only THOUGHT to do it.  I told you, we were harmless.  We got in on time and didn't even try to think of excuses when we didn't.  We fessed up to messing around and took the consequence.  Most of the time the consequence was, "don't do that again."  


Time passed so quickly and in May of 1973 we all graduated and went separate and very different ways.  I have only run into Kathy on a couple of occasions since then and very seldom have taken the time to visit Irma at her home.  I am sorry for that, I regret that.  I am aiming to do better because I know it's the right thing to do.


Who helped to "raise you" as a kid?  Another friend's parents, like me?  The elderly neighbor lady who checked in on you while your parents took jobs?  How about your Sunday School teacher or your scout leader?  Maybe your school bus driver who always waited until you got safely in your house.  I had to become an adult before I even realized how important all those extra people were in my life.  My parents couldn't be everywhere and they had to trust that whoever we ran into, whoever we associated with, would be the kind of folks who would watch out for us--folks who would have our best interests in mind.  The Perrimans were just that kind of people....and today, at long last I thanked Irma for taking care of me because my mom and dad couldn't have done it without her!  


One of my "Miller Bucket List" items has been to reconnect with family members living all over the country.  After visiting with Irma this afternoon, I am reminded that "shared blood" is not the only thing that makes someone like your family.  When people take you "under their wing" when they really didn't HAVE to....well that makes them as much a family as anything else ever does. So to Irma and anyone else in my life who has kept me on the "straight and narrow",  for all the things done on my behalf and a whole lot of other kids, I say thank-you.  I'm sorry that it sometimes goes unsaid for way too many years.

A rat in the house may eat the ice cream

It was the part of the school day I dreaded most as a kid.  I'd watch the hands on that old clock in Miss Rose Davis's 5th grade classroom creep ever closer to the 10 o'clock hour each and every morning and know it was coming.  I can't say for sure, but I'd bet that if I ever told Miss Davis that I felt sick and needed to go home, it probably happened around that time of the day.  


Sooner or later, the inevitable would happen 'cause you know that you can only put it off for so long a time.  As the minute hand made it to the twelve and the hour hand to the ten, she would always make her standard announcement,  "Children, it's time to put away your things and get out your math books."  And the next hour that passed would always seem like the longest one of my life.  


If I was honest, and I choose to be, then I'd tell the truth-I have hated, avoided, and not understood math for the biggest share of my 55-year old life.  In my 5th grade class at Haven Grade School, I was a charter member of the "I Hate Math Club" and I'm pretty sure I was the president of it most of that school year.  And if there are still any 45-year old text books around, buried deep in the abyss of the Haven Grade School storage room, you could probably find one that has the following message still written in it with a 10-year old's scrawl:


"PEGGY SCOTT HATES MATH AND THINKS IT IS STUPID!"  (That little girl was really very quiet and shy, hardly the kind you would think could deface a school book.  LOL)


As my grade school years went on, Virgil Gresham was my math teacher and try as he might, I didn't really catch on with him either.  I might have been given a "C" (in a kind, sort of way) just because I finally at LEAST tried to do it without crying.  But I'm sure that I wasn't even CLOSE to an average math student.  In high school, Neil Hayes taught my general math class and I think I actually eeked a well-earned "C+" out of that one.  You'd think that one year of high school math would be a plenty...nah, for some reason they wanted to torture kids like me with some new fangled thing they called "algebra".  Poor Art Peitsch....I think he may have given up on me somewhere shortly after Thanksgiving break. It was the only "D" I ever got in high school and the "D" didn't stand for fine and DANDY.....


When I finally grew up, went to college and became a teacher, teaching math to students was at the very bottom of my "I dearly want to" list.  But as fate would have it, oh my word, guess what my first job was?  I became a Title I math teacher at Haven Grade School, the very place where my aversion against math was given birth to.  I couldn't believe it.


But you know what, I did survive and the greatest blessing of taking on that first job was getting to meet 4 young people whom I grew to dearly love, my very first students, ever:  John Hopkins, Mike Fazio, Amy Brittain, and Marschelle Giles.  They didn't realize it at the time, but they taught me much more than I could ever teach them.  It was with their class that I began to realize that math COULD be  my friend after all.  :)


After 34 years of teaching, being able to stick mostly to teaching primary grades math, I now find myself in year #34 teaching 5th and 6th graders math.  Friends, talk about a scary proposition...and believe me, it's NOT the students...I love them.  The scary part is in the ways that the teaching of math has changed since I was a kid in school.  It surely can be a humbling experience to have to say to a student, "Show me how you got the answer that way, please."  But it happened today.


My 5th grade students that I see on a daily basis have learned to do multiplication problems via the "lattice method" of multiplication.  Yeah, I know-I didn't what it was either!  :)  It's ok to admit it, so glad that I'm not alone!  


All last evening I sat here at home looking at lesson plans and thinking, "How in the heck am I going to teach something that even I am not sure of?"  This morning when I woke up, the answer was as clear as a bell.  I wasn't going to teach them--they were going to have to teach me.


When math time came around today, I took a chair amongst theirs at the table.  They looked at me kind of funny when I said, "Hey guys...I need someone to teach me how to do lattice multiplication. Anybody willing to show me and everyone else how it's done."  I expected there to be a moment of silence where no one would even think of raising up their hand.  Little did I know that I was sitting right next to the "student" teacher of the day.  


That young girl walked right up to the board and started in on the problem.  A 3-digit number multiplied by a 2-digit number.  She started quickly through it, not explaining but just showing it.  To that I said, "Wait a minute, slow down.  Explain this to me."  She realized how lost I looked and immediately slowed her computation down.  What came naturally for her was like reading a foreign language for me.  


After 5-minutes passed we had not only finished one problem, but three problems.  It was simple, much more so than I imagined.  And I knew that I didn't have to be afraid to help them with it any longer.  For those of you, who like me didn't know anything about the lattice method, here's what it looks like:

I have to admit, I didn't come up with the right answer to begin with.  I was only off by 20,000-not too bad for a novice!  LOL  When I checked it by doing a traditional form that we all know, I realized what I'd done wrong.  In my time we called it "carrying" and indeed I had forgotten to take care of some "carrying" chores along the way.  But I figured it out.  And I have a wonderful group of 5th graders and their classroom teachers, Mrs. Bleything and Mrs. Styes to thank.  


That little group of 5th graders duly noticed my math success for the day.  I reminded them that no matter what they had earlier thought, all teachers (heck any adult) can and should learn something new everyday.  No one knows everything or even enough, really!  As they left my room at the end of class, I thanked each one of them personally for being MY teacher today.  We spent a lot of time going over things that they were good at already so that I might learn the process for doing it as well..  And you know what, I feel kind of good about it.  There may be hope for me yet!


The tables got turned today... the students were the teachers and the teacher, well she got to sit in "their world" for a bit.  As I sat, struggling along with the problems, I began to feel a lot of empathy for the situations that students sometimes find themselves in. 


 I love reading and yes, instead of giving me "mathematical genius" the good Lord decided that Peggy Scott would be a whiz at spelling and writing.  Every day, I come across students who struggle with the things that I am good at.  As a teacher, I have to ask myself, "Have I shown empathy to them today? Have I provided for their needs?  Have I made an effort to congratulate them on whatever successes, no matter how small, they have had?"  I hope so, truly I do....Living through "math class" has taught me more things than just lattice multiplication.  A whole lot more~


Hey, here's the group--6 young people who may be on their way to being educators some day.  You don't know for sure~little Peggy Scott didn't plan on being one at their age.  Whatever they choose to do, I know they will succeed.  I have all the faith in the world in them and their classmates.  

This is an awesome group of 5th graders and hey, I'm biased, but I think the entire student body and staff of our school is awesome.  Thanks kids for helping an old person learn a little math today.  




By the way, "a rat in the house may eat the ice cream"~~~ever heard of it?  How do you think I learned to spell arithmetic?  Miss Rose Davis, thanks for being an awesome 5th grade teacher....see you in Heaven my dear friend from the land of "long ago and so very, very far away."

4 MORE WEEKS-AT LEAST

Just back from the "land of miracles" and the news I got was not the news I wanted to hear.  In fact, it was polar opposite from what I suspected I would find out. 


 This morning I had a sense of confidence about myself.  It had been nearly 10 weeks since my August 4th accident and I was POSITIVE that today would be the last doctor appointment for me.  I was so sure of myself that I had my son take the picture shown below.  I was going to put it on my evening blog post with the caption:  "LOOK MA, NO CAST!"

Well, that's not going to happen any time soon.  But hey, it was fun to think of for awhile.  And it looks like I am going to have about 4 to 6 weeks more to think about it.  So I guess this photo shall be saved for that glorious day in November or December or February or March when it actually will be true (at least I hope!)


There were some very positive things that I was shown in today's appointment.  The x-rays showed that my bones are indeed healing, slow but very sure.  My own bone is starting to grow over the donor bone making that area much stronger.  But the x-rays show a few gaps and that's a sign that not enough time has passed for me....so I must wait a little longer.  The doctor was very pleased with what is happening so far but he reminded me that I have a very long road ahead of me and that I just have to be _______________________.  (guess what word should fill in THAT blank)  In case you need a hint it starts with "p" and ends with "t".  And oh man, have I ever heard that word a lot lately.  But he's right and I know it.


The doctor reminded me, when I asked about the splint, that it will be very important for me to continue wearing it for at least another 4 or 5 weeks.  It is especially crucial when I'm up and moving around at school.  Anytime that I'm around kids or crowds of people, "old lefty" must be in the splint to protect it from further damage.  And I dang sure don't want to "undo" what work has been put into the last 10 weeks.  I aint starting over again, and I mean it!  


I was reminded by more than one person today at the doctor's office that I was the worst case they can remember seeing there in recent history.  In fact, they can only remember one other person who had as significant an injury as me.  Given that fact, I should be ever so happy to have come along as far as I have at this point in time.


The doctor wants therapy to continue on a once a week basis in Wichita.  I promised to continue to do so as well as keep up with things here at home.  It's important to not give that up for any reason and if I expect to continue to get better, then I must do so.  According to the doctor's measurements, my wrist/hand is back to about 50% normalcy on the range of motion.  With luck and lots of practice on my part, I can probably get even more back.  But it's going to take.....argh, TIME!  


As I began to walk out of the doctor's office and head through the waiting area, I couldn't help notice that most of the clientele waiting to be seen was in similar shape as I was.  There were casts and slings everywhere and some of those poor people were in the beginning stages of treatment, just like I was 10 weeks ago.  They've got a long road ahead...me, I hope I'm on the final leg of this journey.  I need to remember that always-I'm not the only one with a debilitating injury-there are plenty of others who are in worse shape than I am but I didn't notice anyone whining.  For a teacher, I sure have a lot to learn about life!
 
And hey, I have to admit, the news wasn't all bad!  I was given the "green light" to return to the YMCA for the second set of swimming lessons I wanted to take.  That "bucket list" item had been put on hold for the last 10 weeks but now, as long as I'm careful it will be fine.  I can't believe I typed the words "I wanted to take" with such ease and absolutely no anxiety...wow, I must be getting better!  For those of you not aware of it, Peggy Miller has been a water phobic for the past 45 years but that's beginning to change.  Thanks to the encouragement of a very dear friend of mine, I re-entered the water this summer.  Soon it will be "so long Peggy the polliwog" and hello to "Peggy the guppy".   I'm hoping I haven't forgotten what I learned in those first 4 lessons.


The good doctor did give me a couple of pieces of advice (kind of like a real warning actually)---no running on the slippery deck (oh yeah, like Peggy Miller would run anywhere anyways!) and the last one, a real no-brainer to me-NO going off the diving board... to that I say, don't you even worry about that one happening. 


Looking back in retrospect, wow what a difference one little decision to ride a bike on a cool summer morning made in the life of this nearly 56-year old woman.  So many "couldas", "wouldas" and "shouldas" to consider.  Mistakes made in riding like a 10-year old instead of the mature rider that I used to be have cost me plenty!  


From Max Lucado's book, "On the Anvil", I love what he wrote about life.  Consider his words in the paragraph below and remember that we are ONLY humans.  Have a good evening friends and family!




"Even though my life is scarred with mistakes, I refuse to rummage through my trash heap of failures.  I will admit them.  I will correct them.  I will press on.  Victoriously.  No failure is fatal.  It's OK to stumble....I will get up.  It's OK to fail .....I will rise again.  Today I will make a difference."  By Max Lucado, "On the Anvil"

BE IT EVER SO HUMBLE.....

For as long as I live, no matter where I find myself on this planet called Earth, this Kansas farm girl will always call the small town of Haven my "home."  Today was their annual "Fall Festival" as well as the observance of Haven's 125th birthday.  That was one "party" that I thought I should attend and of course, wouldn't you know it?  It rained, and rained, and rained--a community that spent most of the past several months in drought conditions was the recipient of much needed moisture.  But nothing could dampen the spirits of that group of folks--they made the best of it, sunshine or clouds.  And I have to tell you, that's just the kind of people I would have expected Haven folks to be.  


I was so blessed today to spend several hours with a group of people I've known for many, many years from the "land of long ago and so very far away."  They are my friends from high school and now my friends on Facebook.  I'm so grateful that they were able to help me with Item #5 from the Miller Bucket List-"to connect with each of my Facebook friends and buy them something to drink and talk about life.  I'd love for you to meet them!

  This is my very good friend, Joyce Bennett, who drove all the way from the St. Louis, MO area to be with us all today.  She was a member of the class of '72 and used to work for my parents in our restaurant in Haven.  Her own parents had a restaurant as well.  She traveled here in her motorhome accompanied by a very cute little dog named "Louie".  She's retired but she stays more than busy traveling around and doing volunteer work of all kinds.  So very nice to see her once again.  She kept us all in stitches today...

Meet my good friend, Toni (Kuntz) Hiebert.  It's been ages since I have seen Toni and we live right here in the same town of Hutchinson.  We used to ride the school bus together, long, long ago.  She is from the class of '72 also.  Even though she went to Hutch High halfway through high school, it seemed like she was with us all the time at Haven.  I really enjoyed having a chance to get to visit with her today.  Way too long to see someone who lives only 10 minutes away from me.

You may remember my Facebook friend, Annetta (Grandon) Hoffmann.  We met up earlier this summer and had breakfast together.  Annetta had come back for the Fall Festival as did the other two.  This morning we all met up together at our usual "haunt" I-Hop for breakfast and a whole lot of story telling.  Truly, if "laughter is the best medicine" then we four girls should not need to go to the doctor for a long time now.  There was a whole lot of that  going on and you know what?  It was fun!


While we were at Haven, we talked at length about what life was like growing up there.  All four of us came to the "same conclusion."  We would never have wished to grow up any place else.  You guys can keep your 5A and 6A schools and the thousands of kids that come with them.  We are glad to have come from a small school in a small rural community....a place where every one was known by every one else.  Living in Haven and going to school there was the best thing that could have happened to us, as far as we were concerned.  We had a good life although I'm sure at the time, we may have questioned it once in a while.  The memories we made, the lessons of life that we learned were priceless--we may not have had all of the special "opportunities" that kids in bigger schools had.  But you know what?  We managed to turn out "ok" after all!


While at Haven, I was able to run into two more Facebook friends who were attending the Fall Festival.  So thanks to these two for helping me out with Item #5 on the "Miller Bucket List" as well......

  This is my good friend, Katrina (Wiard) Stussy-we were standing close by one another trying to find some shelter from the ever present raindrops that kept falling down.  Katrina and I have a few "connections" to one another.  Her husband, Larry, was in my class in high school.  Her uncle, Bill Wiard, was in my class from kindergarten-3rd grade at Burrton Grade School.  The world gets smaller and smaller all the time!  It was nice to see you Katrina!

Then, out of the "blue", we all ran into our dear friend, Catherine (Schmidt) Fletcher who was there all the way from her home in Iowa.  She surprised us while we were eating a slice of pizza together at the cafe on Main Street in Haven.  Catherine, a member of the class of '71, had seen us while she was on their class float in the parade and found us as we were eating.  Catherine and I have known one another for a long time.  She worked for my parents at Scott's Cafe as her very first job.    How wonderful to finally meet up with her after all these many years apart!  Safe journey back to Iowa!

At the end of the day, before each going our separate ways for the evening, Annetta, Toni, Joyce and I posed underneath the mural that was recently done to celebrate the spirit of Haven.  I felt a lot of pride standing underneath that painting...it's a kind of pride that I will never lose sight of, no matter how far removed I may find myself from that little town or this area of Kansas in general.   Be it EVER so humble, Haven, Kansas is a great place to call HOME.  Have a good evening friends. 

In His good time.....

Friends, when was the last time that you did something "good" for yourself?  Wait a minute, I'm going to rephrase that question....When is the last time you spent an ENTIRE day doing good things for yourself?  It's been a while, hasn't it?  I won't ask you what the "hold up" is nor will I "scold" you for looking out for others while neglecting yourself.  We're all guilty of it and I, Peggy Miller, stand at the front of that group of people.  But not for today.


Today, at long last, I FINALLY spent a day doing things that I knew would be good for me.  It cost me an entire tank of gas and the biggest share of my day.  Not a blooming thing got done at my house, my desk at school is still cluttered and waiting to be cleaned up, but friends, it was so worth it!  I spent the day with my only daughter who I don't see near enough these days.  I say to you again, IT WAS SO WORTH IT!


Better back up just a bit-I'm a 3x "blessed" mom, with two sons-Ricky (age 31) and Grahame (age 23) and a daughter, Ursela, who will turn 21 on "Boxing Day", December 26th.  I was 35 when Ursela was born...."OLD" by standards of 21 years ago.  Now a days, it's common to have your FIRST child at 35.  I can still remember my first visit to the doctor when I learned I was pregnant with her.  They took one look at my age at her conception (34) and gently told me, "You know there is a test we can run to see if anything is wrong with the baby and then you can decide what you want to do."  I looked at them like they were crazy and promptly found a new doctor who never even brought the subject of my age up.  Geesch-to them and their "stupid" test!


She was a c-section delivery because at an early age (in utero) she had already developed a "mind of her own" and decided to turn bottom down, breech.  That little girl had NO intention of coming into this world in a normal fashion.  And she's had a mind of her own ever since-thank you God!  


When they delivered her and said, "It's a girl, Peggy!" I thought I had misheard what they said.  Couldn't believe it-I was so sure she was my 3rd son that "his name" had already been chosen-Andrew Benjamin Christian Niilson Hemman.  (specially arranged in "abc" order so I'd remember!)  As it turned out, she became Ursela Catherine Roseanna Hemman.  She has been surely loved ever since.  


Her days of being a little girl flew by so quickly and in the half-blink of an eye she grew up.  When she graduated from high school in 2009, she knew exactly what she wanted to do.  At the end of the summer she left for college at the only place she ever really wanted to go-The University of Kansas-Lawrence.  And friends, she never came back.


Lawrence is home to her now and as I visited with her today and spent several hours in "her world" I could see just how happy and content she really is there.  I wouldn't wish for her to move back to Hutchinson for any reason now.  She has a wonderful boyfriend named Wade who is working on his Master's at KU.  He's a geologist from upstate New York, a small town called Goveurner.  I first learned of his "existence" last Thanksgiving when Ursela told us that one of her friends  (found out how special a bit later) was spending 5 weeks in Antarctica.  I can remember thinking, "man, I know it's chilly in upstate New York, but this guy must be pretty strong to be able to live in Antarctica for over a month."  We met him a couple of months later here in Hutch.  I'm so happy for Ursela, to be dating a young man who knows how to treat women with kindness and respect. 


Today's journey to Lawrence started at 6 a.m. at home.  The trip took less than 3 hours to make and I had absolutely no trouble getting there.  Onstar guided me most of the way, Dan Fogleberg  Creedence Clearwater Revival and Loggins/Messina were playing "loud and clear" and "old lefty" actually didn't hurt at all.  Could not have asked for a better trip.  Ursela's apartment complex was easy to find and after she'd shown me around we decided to head out for all the fun stuff we could cram into 5 hours time.


Those of you who know Lawrence (probably better than me) know what the Merc is.  It's one of my favorite places to visit when I'm there.  Usually I just go in and wander around, wishing I might buy something but always "reckoning" myself to the fact that I really don't need it.  Not today!  I had set aside a little money that wasn't required for anything else in life and today I spent it.  And I threw away the ticket, 'cause I wasn't taking them back!  LOL  


I treated myself to a small serving of hibiscus tea leaves, some catnip for Obie, a 2012 calendar, a pound of fresh chestnuts (you know the kind you roast on an "open fire") a book on canning and preserving and two bars of lavender goat's milk soap.  I didn't have to break the bank to do it.  Then we went to the WaxMan candle shop and I treated myself to a new candle from there.  Then we headed to the Dusty Book Shelf to look for a book I've been meaning to find, "My Side of the Mountain."  I'd never heard of it before, but some of my students had read a small excerpt from it in one of the readers I have.  So I decided since they liked it, I'd get the "real thing" and we'd read together.  For under $10, I found a piece of literature that 12 kids will get some enjoyment from next week at school.  


Ursela and I had lunch together at the Free State Brewery on Mass. St. and it was a lot of fun!  I am used to having a peanut butter sandwich for lunch, or if time allows a hamburger from Wendy's that I usually get through the drive-through and gobble down on the way back to school.  It was wonderful to sit down with her, order a good meal, and enjoy conversation about life.  We sat and talked for nearly an hour before we realized we needed to get a "move on".  But what fun we had, what great memories were made for that lunch-time together.  


The time to return home to Hutch arrived so quickly but before I left we agreed that I'd return again before the snow flies in the winter.  Some nice "Indian summer" Saturday I will make the journey again to visit all the places we wanted to see today but didn't have time to.  I'm very ashamed to admit it, but I hadn't seen Ursela since February and she only lives 3 hours away. I could say that we've both been busy, which we have, but that's not even close enough to a good excuse.  That will happen NO MORE.....life's too short and how ever we need to arrange it, our schedules will be cleared way more often in the future.  No one should be so busy~~


It's night time as I finish this-should have already been in bed by now.  But I'm thinking about the day's events and realizing how blessed I am.  My 3 children are alive and well, I have a good roof over my head, food enough to sustain me for days.  I have a vehicle that starts every time and manages to run well...and MOST of the time I've got plenty of money to fill up the gas tank.  My job will be there for me when I return to school next week, my arm is healing nicely and I couldn't ask for better friends than you all are.  What else in the world could I even want? Certainly, what else would I even need?  His richest blessings to you all, my friends.

           FOR THE GIFT OF A DAUGHTER, DEAR LORD, I DO SO GIVE THANKS!