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My Definition of a POW

I have a lot of connections to the military, both past and present. I fly the American flag 24/7. Yes, it is properly lit. I went outside yesterday and switched out the American flag for my POW/MIA flag that I will leave up until Monday in honor of my friends, some of which I can tell you their names and most of which I can’t. I have the privilege of writing this in a sate of freedom because of the military, not because of our government that no longer takes care of our veterans. I won’t apologize, I’m very biased on this subject.

I believe in my heart there are three different definitions of a POW. First: the military member that was/is actually held by the enemy. John McCain is the one I think of first. Second; the veteran that leads a “normal” life, but has nightmares about his tour of duty, maybe is getting some help dealing with PTSD, talks to his brotherhood, other veterans, about what he had to do and what he witnessed. Third; the person sitting at a bar who talks about his tour of duty like he came home yesterday, and it was actually many years ago; he/she doesn’t identify with todays life, feels alone and contemplates suicide on occasion. There are about 20 veteran suicides a day. Some have sought help and couldn’t get it, some never sought because they couldn’t admit the tough guy needed it and others because they lived in too rural an area to have help available.

Any veteran that did as our government directed will never be free of the memories. I know a WWII and Korean Was vet whose job it was to load bombs. He has told me, “I have no idea if any of the bombs I loaded were ever used, but it eats at me day and night.” He generally stays awake at night, and sleeps during the daylight hours. Tears form just writing this. He’s a really good guy, a great poet and he has my utmost respect.

There is a 90 plus year old lady in my home town that still wears the copper bracelet with her sons name on it; James Moore. It also has the date he went missing in Viet Nam. She never forgets either, and neither does her family.

I know this isn’t my usual type post. I’ll close asking you to remember any POW or MIA with respect. And while we’re at it, the American Flag and what it represents is why our veterans suffer with their memories.

09/16/2016 1

Let Your Children Serve You

I have a confession. When I was a young mother, I didn’t have the patience to have my children help me in the kitchen. I liked to get things done quickly, neatly, and with the expected outcome. I didn’t know I was making a mistake by not letting them help, thus learn about cooking and responsibility. The good part, they are both over 40 now and the main cooks in their households. I’m proud of them for learning despite my actions.

Children like to feel like they are contributing. I found with my grandson that if I asked for his help, instead of giving instructions and making demands, we had a good time. At age one he was allowed to get all the pans out; he would crash bang the lids, spread an obstacle course around the kitchen, then put them all in a circle with himself in the center. It kept him occupied for a long time. He then graduated to wanting to help wash the dishes, then to cracking eggs for me while baking. (One ended up on the floor and not in the bowl. My daughter looked at me, shook her head and left the room. I didn’t yell at him, just cleaned it up. The rules change when you get older and it’s a grandchild. I’m pretty sure she didn’t think it was fair.)

I remember some friends of ours who have three boys; they had to make the peanut butter and jelly sandwich different for each one. How? One wanted the jelly on the bottom, another had to have the jelly on top, and the third wanted his “fo-ded” (folded) not cut! Mom was smart enough to make them all the same, and just place them on the plate the correct way. One day Dad was on duty and he had to call Mom to find out the rules. We are still laughing about it.

Let your kids take over the kitchen to celebrate this day. If they are little, let them play with the bowls and spoons; if a little bigger, share the cooking but let them do the planning; the meal doesn’t have to fancy, a bologna sandwich will do; you get the idea; the only rule, they are not allowed to call for take-out. Help them learn that serving (giving) is a wonderful trait that will take them farther in this world than any other.

09/13/2016 9

Pediatric Nurses Day

The picture has the correct name for this day; National Pediatric Hematology/Oncology Nurses Day. I truly hope no one in your family or circle of friends ever needs to get to know one of these very special people, but we know life isn’t always fair.

My daughter had major surgery when she was 3 1/2 to fix problems in her urinary tract. I’m thankful it wasn’t cancer or a blood disorder. Luckily she hasn’t needed more surgery as she ages. That Doc did a great job. Where, you might ask. At Chanute Air Force Base Hospital in Rantoul, Illinois. That was way back in 1978. The base isn’t open anymore.

As a young mother, away from home, with two children and an Air Force husband, that was not an easy time in my life. If you haven’t had any connection with a branch of the U. S. military, I will tell you they are a brotherhood. In base housing, your neighbors are generally immediate friends, because they are away from home, just like you. There is a bond produced by understanding that a military member’s life is not his/her own. When the government of the country the member has signed their life away to, says jump. you jump. It’s not a question, or a I’ll think about it, it’s how it is. The families bond together just like the active duty members do because it’s necessary. (I’m not complaining, just trying to explain. I do digress.)

The nurses, techs, room cleaners, and doctors in a military hospital are all active duty military members, or they were in 1978, maybe it’s different now. Anyway, I admire them highly. Taking care of someone you can communicate with is one thing, caring for a baby is another. Taking care of a child or teen that wants no part of a stranger can be trying too. I have noticed that sick children seem to be calmer than non-sick. My daughter’s surgeon said she didn’t feel good enough to be a brat, until he fixed her. It was worth it.

I am an emotional person. I cry at things in movies that others don’t even see as poignant. I cry when I’m happy, when I’m sad, and when I’m frustrated. So, again, I admire any nurse that can care for a child, do their best, comfort the parent, then watch them walk out of their lives as quickly as they appeared. Maybe it’s the quick come and go that makes it easier for them. I couldn’t do their job without getting attached.

I’ll repeat, I pray you never have to know one of these caring, capable, super-human nurses. I’m thankful they exist.

09/08/2016 0

It’s Never Too Late to Start

September 7th has five National Days attached to it so we’ll have a little fun, then learn that it’s never too late to start.

It’s Neither Snow, Nor Rain Day referring to having our mail delivered in all sorts of weather. Be appreciative! After a long cold, rainy day your mail carrier might go to his/her local bar to warm up with some hot Acorn Squash (Day) soup, order a Salami (Day) sandwich, then cool the tongue with a Beer (Lover’s Day). I know, silly, but you have to admit, it works! Sort of! And I know Facebook will probably only recognize the Beer part; maybe the mail carrier.

So let’s look at Grandma Moses;

Anna Mary Robertson Moses (September 7, 1860 – December 13, 1961) is an example to us all of an individual who successfully began a career in the arts at an advanced age. A renowned American folk artist, Grandma Moses first started painting in her 70s after arthritis made it difficult to embroider, her original medium.

Grandma Moses’ exhibitions were so popular during the 1950s that they broke attendance records all over the world.

“A cultural icon, the spry, productive nonagenarian was continually cited as an inspiration for housewives, widows, and retirees. Her images of America’s rural past were transferred to curtains, dresses, cookie jars, and dinnerware, and used to pitch cigarettes, cameras, lipstick and instant coffee.”

1950 – Cited as one of the five most newsworthy women.
1951 – Honored as Woman of the Year by the National Association of House Dress Manufacturers.
Age 88 – Mademoiselle Magazine named her “Young Woman of the Year.”
Awarded the first honorary doctorate from Philadelphia’s Moore College of Art.
1969 – A United States commemorative stamp was issued in her honor.
2006 – Her work Sugaring Off (1943) became her highest selling work at US $1.2 million. Sugaring Off was a prime example of the simple rural scenes for which she was well-known.
Grandma Moses’ painting, Fourth of July, was given, by Otto Kallir, to the White House where it still hangs today.

Did you catch that? She started painting at age 70, and was “Young Woman of the Year” at age 88. We should be so lucky!

I admire the bloggers I have contact with, some of them are under 30. I didn’t have enough life experience to write at that age. Like I said above, it’s never too late to start.

09/07/2016 0

National Newspaper Carrier Day

My husband and I enjoyed a very nice conversation yesterday about his years as a newspaper carrier. He was involved in delivering the Sunday out-of-town paper(s) in Hornell, NY, from September 1960 until August 1966. During that time period Hornell was around 15,000 people and it took ten carriers, on foot, to cover the city.

The boys each pulled a wagon, with the sides built up, that held editions from Syracuse, Buffalo, Rochester, and New York City. At each house he would put the papers in between the screen and front doors so nothing blew away, and the person getting the paper didn’t have to walk outside for their morning news. Some of the papers were more than an inch thick and some houses got more than one edition. After he delivered, which took three hours, then he had to retrace his steps to collect from each patron so he could pay for the papers that day. That was a lot of work for just over $4.00 profit.

As we talked he remembered the names of all the streets he covered, then explained what a pain it was to pull the heavy cart, with small wheels, through the snow; generally in the street because sidewalks weren’t shoveled, around cars and drifts stating at 6AM. Once he got his license he went to work at 4AM to drive to pick up the papers at the train station, take them to the newspaper distribution building, help sort and stuff, then deliver. By that time he was active in high school sports and also had a night time restaurant bus boy job, on top of being interested in dating. He laughed when he told of some Saturday nights he didn’t go to bed, then slept most of Sunday after he finished his route. At the end of the conversation we realized he has been working since he was twelve years old, in some capacity or another. That has been his hobby all along. And he’s still at it 55 years later, more than 40 hours a week, because he likes to.

We now live in a city where all newspapers are either put in your box, or in a bag and thrown somewhere in the driveway. I tried to Google if small towns still have boy carriers that walk, ride bikes, or pull carts but I couldn’t find any information. I’m guessing with how labor laws have changed, the paper carrier is an adult, riding in a car, but I’m not sure.

Next time you go out in your pajamas to get your paper, think about what time your carrier got up to deliver it and be thankful it arrives, rain, snow, fog or humidity!

09/04/2016 0

Dedicated to Dack S.

I’m looking forward to football season, or should I say the start of the games that get the teams into the playoffs. I don’t pay much attention to the pre-season games because I’ve heard they don’t make any difference and I’m not quite ready to admit summer is almost over. I’m a watch from home person; I can’t get into spending twelve hours in a day to watch a four hour game. (That includes drive-time, tailgate time, the game, getting out of the parking lot and then driving home.)

My step-son went to the University of Kentucky. While visiting him one fall over ten years ago, I went to my first tailgating party. I expected hamburgers, hots and potato chips. Silly me. UK is a HUGE football college. There was a big surprise for me when we got to the parking lot. It was full of RV’s with room size rugs laid in front of them, canopy tents, lawn chairs, full size gas grills, and coolers, larger than I had ever seen, full of beer, wine and food. We ate different types of salads, grilled pork loin, vegetables and dip, and no chips. WOW! I don’t remember anything about the game. Like I said we were visiting, so I only went once.

I have some very close friends that are Buffalo Bill’s season ticket holders. I’ve asked on more than one occasion how they can party in the parking lot, then sit through four hours of game in 30 degree weather. The answer is, “We dress for it!” Okay, that makes sense. Then I ask, “Doesn’t it get old when your team is in a slump?” You should see the looks I get. The wife says to me, “Who cares if the team wins or looses. We go to tailgate. We’ve been parking in the same lot for years and have made all sorts of friends from all over the place. It’s the only time we see them.” Now that makes sense to me. The wife posts very interesting recipes on Facebook that she will try for the next tailgate. Then she posts pictures of the ‘gang’ having fun. They wear lots of Bills gear and everyone is laughing or smiling. When there is an away game, the ones that are from here gather in the same local bar to watch together. I guess I’m a little jealous I don’t have a group of friends like that.

Unfortunately the husband passed away two years ago on September 11. His tailgating friends didn’t even know he had gotten sick just after season’s end the year before so it was a sorrowful shock to them. This is how they paid tribute to their friend that weekend. This is the hill behind the parking lot.

The good part is the wife and adult daughter have been able to keep their season tickets. I’ve already started seeing new recipes for this season and the daughter has a steady boyfriend to enjoy the fun with.

I know it’s been two years since the Patriot Guard escorted my friend to his final resting place, but it feels like yesterday. GO BILLS!

I sewed every one of those patches on Dack’s vest. I knew his trip schedule as well as his wife.

09/03/2016 0

Sue Spitulnik

Writing, Sewing, Travel, and Thoughts

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