Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Monday, August 29, 2011
The Final Pool Party - Through an 8 Yr. Old's Eye
For the past couple of years I have allowed our granddaughter, who is now 8, to use my digital camera and shoot whatever number pictures her heart desired....
Here is the result from Saturday's pool party using my latest purchase
Ruby Sue being a puppy pest
Daddy (Andy) and Connor
Ruby looking for trouble
Some of the gang in the pool playing volleyball
Quite time for the Redbone Coon hound
Where's that drink?
Gramps
Auntie Jodie and Tom
Cousin Jenia
Let me in.... pleeeease
Peeping Sunflowers
Pool Fish
Wonder if she is on their payroll
The fire pit
Maybe she is sponsored by Nike
Hmmm maybe Rachel Rae
Somebody has been fooling around
Big Daddy Brad
Bro (Jack)
Tommy and Gramps
Jenia, Gramma and Poppa
The Eco Senior
Marc... I think it's infatuation
Aunt Megan keeping an eye on the swimmers
Self Portrait
Nope... not a Chicken Hawk
As night time falls Gramma and Poppa haven't moved
That's me again
Guess who again (Marc and Jack)
Kenny Chesney - When The Sun Goes Down: Goin' Coastal Tour 2011
Watch at the end when Kenny Chesney takes a pair of glasses with palm trees on them from a woman in the audience and Uncle Kracker wears them for a moment.
The woman is a friend and fellow worker of Pat's.
The Polite Way....
The Polite Way to Call Someone a Bastard*
A guy was getting ready to tee off on the first hole when a second golfer approached and asked if he could join him. The first said that he usually played alone, but agreed to the twosome.
They were even after the first few holes. The second guy said, "We're about evenly matched, how about playing for five bucks a hole?" The first guy said that he wasn't much for betting, but agreed to the terms.
The second guy won the remaining sixteen holes with ease.
As they were walking off number eighteen, the second guy was busy counting his $80.00. He confessed that he was the pro at a neighboring course and liked to pick on suckers.. The first fellow revealed that he was the Parish Priest.
The pro was flustered and apologetic, offering to return the money. The Priest said, "You won fair and square and I was foolish to bet with you. You keep your winnings."
The pro said, "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"
The Priest said, "Well, you could come to Mass on Sunday and make a donation......
And, if you want to bring your mother and father along, I'll marry them.
Thanks Marc
A guy was getting ready to tee off on the first hole when a second golfer approached and asked if he could join him. The first said that he usually played alone, but agreed to the twosome.
They were even after the first few holes. The second guy said, "We're about evenly matched, how about playing for five bucks a hole?" The first guy said that he wasn't much for betting, but agreed to the terms.
The second guy won the remaining sixteen holes with ease.
As they were walking off number eighteen, the second guy was busy counting his $80.00. He confessed that he was the pro at a neighboring course and liked to pick on suckers.. The first fellow revealed that he was the Parish Priest.
The pro was flustered and apologetic, offering to return the money. The Priest said, "You won fair and square and I was foolish to bet with you. You keep your winnings."
The pro said, "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"
The Priest said, "Well, you could come to Mass on Sunday and make a donation......
And, if you want to bring your mother and father along, I'll marry them.
Thanks Marc
Weight Loss
for the past few weeks I have been trying this new weight-loss product I saw on CNN.
you should check this out too I have lost a bunch of weight. 29.2 lbs to be exact.
http://hcgdietultra.9amh6hxr.a.webspottp.com/?s=1&read=article
Thanks Penny..... please note that we do not know if this weight lose system works as promoted... try at your own discretion
you should check this out too I have lost a bunch of weight. 29.2 lbs to be exact.
http://hcgdietultra.9amh6hxr.a.webspottp.com/?s=1&read=article
Thanks Penny..... please note that we do not know if this weight lose system works as promoted... try at your own discretion
This explains.....
This explains why I forward stuff.
A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the
scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.
He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for
years. He wondered where the road was leading them.
After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the
road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken
by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.
When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that
looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked
like pure gold.
He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man
at a desk to one side.
When he was close enough, he called out, 'Excuse me, where are we?'
'This is Heaven, sir,' the man answered.
'Wow! Would you happen to have some water?' the man asked.
'Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought
right up.'
The man gestured, and the gate began to open. 'Can my friend,' gesturing
toward his dog, 'come in, too?' the traveler asked.
'I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets.'
The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and
continued the way he had been going with his dog.
After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a
dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been
closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man
inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.
'Excuse me!' he called to the man. 'Do you have any water?'
'Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in.'
'How about my friend here?' the traveler gestured to the dog.
'There should be a bowl by the pump,' said the man.
They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned
hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveler filled the water bowl and
took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog.
When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was
standing by the tree. 'What do you call this place?' the traveler asked.
'This is Heaven,' he answered.
'Well, that's confusing,' the traveler said.
'The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.'
'Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope.
That's Hell.'
'Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?'
'No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their
best friends behind.'
Soooo. Now you see, sometimes, we wonder why friends keep forwarding stuff
to us without writing a word. Maybe this will explain it.
When you are very busy, but still want to keep in touch, guess what you
do? You forward emails.
When you have nothing to say, but still want to keep contact, you forward
jokes.
When you have something to say, but don't know what, and don't know how -
you forward stuff.
A 'forward' lets you know that you are still remembered,you are still
important, you are still cared for.
So, next time if you get a 'forward', don't think that you've been sent
just another forwarded joke, but that you've been thought of today and
your friend on the other end of your computer wanted to send you a smile.
You are welcome at my water bowl anytime!!
Thanks Randy
A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the
scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.
He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for
years. He wondered where the road was leading them.
After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the
road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken
by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.
When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that
looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked
like pure gold.
He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man
at a desk to one side.
When he was close enough, he called out, 'Excuse me, where are we?'
'This is Heaven, sir,' the man answered.
'Wow! Would you happen to have some water?' the man asked.
'Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought
right up.'
The man gestured, and the gate began to open. 'Can my friend,' gesturing
toward his dog, 'come in, too?' the traveler asked.
'I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets.'
The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and
continued the way he had been going with his dog.
After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a
dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been
closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man
inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.
'Excuse me!' he called to the man. 'Do you have any water?'
'Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in.'
'How about my friend here?' the traveler gestured to the dog.
'There should be a bowl by the pump,' said the man.
They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned
hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveler filled the water bowl and
took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog.
When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was
standing by the tree. 'What do you call this place?' the traveler asked.
'This is Heaven,' he answered.
'Well, that's confusing,' the traveler said.
'The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.'
'Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope.
That's Hell.'
'Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?'
'No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their
best friends behind.'
Soooo. Now you see, sometimes, we wonder why friends keep forwarding stuff
to us without writing a word. Maybe this will explain it.
When you are very busy, but still want to keep in touch, guess what you
do? You forward emails.
When you have nothing to say, but still want to keep contact, you forward
jokes.
When you have something to say, but don't know what, and don't know how -
you forward stuff.
A 'forward' lets you know that you are still remembered,you are still
important, you are still cared for.
So, next time if you get a 'forward', don't think that you've been sent
just another forwarded joke, but that you've been thought of today and
your friend on the other end of your computer wanted to send you a smile.
You are welcome at my water bowl anytime!!
Thanks Randy
Best Jokes
1) Nick Helm: "I needed a password eight characters long so I picked Snow White and the Seven Dwarves."
2) Tim Vine: "Crime in multi-storey car parks. That is wrong on so many different levels."
3) Hannibal Buress: "People say 'I'm taking it one day at a time'. You know what? So is everybody. That's how time works."
4) Tim Key: "Drive-Thru McDonalds was more expensive than I thought... once you've hired the car..."
5) Matt Kirshen: "I was playing chess with my friend and he said, 'Let's make this interesting'. So we stopped playing chess."
6) Sarah Millican: "My mother told me, you don't have to put anything in your mouth you don't want to. Then she made me eat broccoli, which felt like double standards."
7) Alan Sharp: "I was in a band which we called The Prevention, because we hoped people would say we were better than The Cure."
8) Mark Watson: "Someone asked me recently - what would I rather give up, food or sex. Neither! I'm not falling for that one again, wife."
9) Andrew Lawrence: "I admire these phone hackers. I think they have a lot of patience. I can't even be bothered to check my OWN voicemails."
10) DeAnne Smith: "My friend died doing what he loved ... Heroin."
Thanks Randy
Agatha Christie
One of my favorite authors
Agatha Christie on Waikiki beach, Hawaii, 1922.
She was travelling with her first husband, Archie,
and mastered stand-up surfing, becoming one of
the earliest Britons known to do so.
Thanks Kerry..... looks like Agatha liked to ride ol' Fred every day
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Isaac - a story about last weeks IROP
ISAAC, a Little Family and a Four Hour Delay
Heather McKeown-Inflight
Tampa to JFK
Repeating one of my favorite truisms, let me just say this: Delays are what you make them! Take for instance this one particular set of passengers that waited four or five hours in an airport while Air Traffic Control regrouped after thunderstorms forced JFK to shut down. When New York’s busiest airport closes I call it our own little ‘shot heard around the world’. The ripple effect of a no landings/no take offs order is instantaneous. If there are two hundred planes headed to Kennedy when the shut down is in effect, where do you think they’re supposed to go? Diversions to another city or flying in circles until the airport reopens are possible plans for those already up and aiming at JFK. For those ready to take off from any other point, well, these planes won’t be given a ‘wheels up’ time* until the already airborne, inbound traffic is taken care of.
At first I saw just the sweetest little girl wearing tiny yellow crocs for shoes, no socks and clean little dress and just the cutest little face. With a couple of bottom teeth visible, a smart and cheery smile was a constant. I got down on my knees and she was just so engaging. Her dad, a very handsome, casually dressed young man, let me know with a lot of pride and awe, that the little girl was his daughter.
“She can really tear around! She just goes, goes, goes.” he laughed. We chatted a bit about his child, but that’s about all. I left them as they chased one another around the departure lounge because there were so many other others waiting around for updates about this very long delay.
I stopped at a little girl, black hair in a few little pony tails with big, red-balled elastics holding each to the scalp. She was about five and very shy. “Do you sing?” I asked. A nod. What’s your favorite song?”
“Twinkle twinkle little star.”
“I know that one. Will you sing it with me?” but to this inquiry, she demurred and I heard, “She’s shy. This one sings!” And a boy, three or four years old came up to me. He was the little brother of the shy girl. His mother gave out a big chuckle and tossed her head from side to side and the father leaned forward, relaxed forearms on his thighs and beamed, “Oh he sings, alright.”
Well, that tiny child didn’t stand much higher than my knees but he was huge in his actions. He stepped out of the little grouping told me, “I SING!” and I thought, ‘This isn’t going to be any Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, this fellow’s going to belt something out!
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Isaac!”
“What will you sing today?”
“Do you like Michael Jackson?” he asked with enthusiasm.
“I love him and I believe he was innocent of all charges.”
His family, in that wonderful motion that only African American congregations can muster, agreed with me on that verdict. “Amen to that.” “You got that right.” Nods all around. It was quite a large group, or maybe it was because their attitude and energies were huge, but the impression was of one big happy clan. I was vacuumed into their zone and prepared myself to enjoy Michael Jackson’s Mini-Me.
He stepped into an open space an into character. This tiny boy became the one and only The King of Pop right before an audience of curious, delayed folks that had also been drawn in to his confident atmosphere. The posturing, the hand motions, the voice, the twirling and moon walking master of his Universe had me at “I can sing”, but when he started his rendition of BILLY JEAN. There was a smattering of clapping and I was the loudest.
He finished the song but said, “I need a HAT!” Someone from his family immediately shot out an arm with said article and he grabbed it, put it on at that ‘hide-half-my-face-Michael-
Again, this time for a very large and captivated audience, BILLY JEAN was his girl. Lucky girl. Lucky crowd.
The only way anyone can follow an act like Isaac’s is to sit down in the nearest empty seat and have a quiet conversation with another family. I found the little yellow croc shoe girl’s unit and met her mommy and an aunt. We chatted about this and that until the real reason for their trip to Florida the first place was revealed. The trip down from New York was to visit a sick relative. Really sick. “She’s my mothah.” said the young father. “She’s in hospice now and we just left hah. It’s cansah and it’s bad. She didn’t want us to stay longah but what can ya’ do? We’re going home now, but can come back again, but we didn’t wanna’ leave this time. Ya know?” Hospice can encompass a very brief time but it can also be a few weeks or longer. The individual sometimes forces the will to live to override the estimated time of departure dictated by the doctors. I’ve witnessed this myself.
My mother, a very lapsed Methodist, had kidney disease. The Anglican minister and the Bishop went to her hospital room to give her the last rites when I was eleven (1963). Instead, she was asked, “Would you like to be confirmed into the Anglican church?” Wow, they never give up, eh? Well, Mom was said to have agreed so the deed was done, a white prayer book given as the bonus prize and Mom lived until I was seventeen (1970). There’s a lot to be said for religion, I guess, but Mom told me that she’d never leave until she was sure my brother and I would be ok, so I think her cast iron determination was equally in play. At seventeen, I just assumed I was totally ok, ready to be a grown up and had ‘arrived’ just because my Mom died. She was a medical miracle. A conundrum. A MOTHER. They don’t leave until they think their young can handle life without them. Well, mine didn’t, at any rate.
The delay was very long. Four hours and then, once boarded, JFK closed again and we were all together on an airplane for two hours. The folks were allowed off with their boarding passes and personal belongings, but those who stayed aboard were well fed, watered and kept abreast of the avionic situation for that entire time. Our captain was always updating the listening audience and great communication is a Jetblue trait that pays dividends with the traveling public, especially when they’re being held hostage during long delays. It was a fun time, actually.
Just before we closed up for the flight, the young man, who’d been visiting his dying mother, got a call on his cell. He looked up at me from his front row seat, eyes enormous, face pinched, “I just talked to my uncle. He says she’s unresponsive.” He couldn’t compute this fact and the disbelief registering on his face gave him the countenance of a little boy being told that Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy weren’t real. It was too much information for this son. His wife, baby on her lap, and his sister were seated across the aisle and heard him. They all looked up at me with pleading in their eyes. They were thinking, “Should we get off this plane and go to the hospital to see Ma?” This was what they were thinking and I could tell that the strength they were employing was absolutely super-human. The mother had insisted they return to New York, after all.
“She wanted us to take this flight. She was weak but I sorta’ thought that I could come back, ya’ know? Like I could come back soon and....” his voice trailed off and his eyes were veiled in self-doubt. “She told us to take this flight back to New Yawk. It’s like she didn’t want us there any more, ya’ know?”
My little family of the yellow croc shoed child sat on both sides of the plane in the front row. The babe slept almost the entire way so the adults were forced to think about the bed ridden mom they loved so very much. The tiny little lady who had told them to take the flight back to New York.
The trip was uneventful. Everyone, including the crew, was very tired. I’d only had four hours sleep between trips because of the delays of the previous night. Eight hours between one landing and the next report-for-duty time is what we must endure during these irregular operations, but I can’t use all that time for sleep. I have to mellow out, shower, wash my uniform in a hotel sink and read a bit before slumber hits me. My legs were really swollen and I was a hurting unit, but there’s always someone hurting more than a body, isn’t there? There sure was that night on that flight. I lost my mom forty-one years before and I’m still healing. It was really hard to see her live in pain just for my brother and me, but this little family was living this in real time and it was all so fresh and agonizing for them. Final good-byes, even when expected, are a terrible shock but they didn’t want to admit that they may have bid the sick lady a final ‘Adieu’. Very few of us can say ‘Good-bye’, for that last time, on cue.
We finally landed. “You’re now welcome to use your cell phone if it’s readily accessible.” The young father did so. Looking at me and at nobody, he exclaimed, “She passed!” There were tears in that row, lots of tears, but they were a very strong threesome as they deplaned with that beautiful little, now barefoot, girl. We all hugged and words are not enough at such times.
Out on the jetbridge, as they awaited the delivery of their checked-in-the-belly-of-the-
“6:09"
“My mothah died at 6:11. She wanted us to leave Florida before she’d let go.”
If that newly passed mother could see her young ones through my eyes, she’d be smiling and nodding, “You’re fine. You’ll be ok now and so will I because I know you’ll be fine without me.”
Yes. Mothers wait. Mothers die. Sons and daughters mourn. Grandchildren grow up hearing all the stories about their Granny’s.
Yet, Isaac is carrying on for Michael Jackson, keeping him alive in actions and music. That little girl in the yellow crocs and pretty dress may just have her granny’s smile and, I hope, for many, many decades, she goes, goes, goes.
That’s life. Delays, take offs, landings. That’s life.
*wheels up time-the time awarded to departing aircraft for ‘rotation’ or take off. i.e. “We have a wheels up time of 1800 hours (6:00 PM). It’s one o’clock now, so let’s not board the customers just yet.” (Ya’ THINK?)
Thanks Heather.....
Heather McKeown-Inflight
Tampa to JFK
Repeating one of my favorite truisms, let me just say this: Delays are what you make them! Take for instance this one particular set of passengers that waited four or five hours in an airport while Air Traffic Control regrouped after thunderstorms forced JFK to shut down. When New York’s busiest airport closes I call it our own little ‘shot heard around the world’. The ripple effect of a no landings/no take offs order is instantaneous. If there are two hundred planes headed to Kennedy when the shut down is in effect, where do you think they’re supposed to go? Diversions to another city or flying in circles until the airport reopens are possible plans for those already up and aiming at JFK. For those ready to take off from any other point, well, these planes won’t be given a ‘wheels up’ time* until the already airborne, inbound traffic is taken care of.
At first I saw just the sweetest little girl wearing tiny yellow crocs for shoes, no socks and clean little dress and just the cutest little face. With a couple of bottom teeth visible, a smart and cheery smile was a constant. I got down on my knees and she was just so engaging. Her dad, a very handsome, casually dressed young man, let me know with a lot of pride and awe, that the little girl was his daughter.
“She can really tear around! She just goes, goes, goes.” he laughed. We chatted a bit about his child, but that’s about all. I left them as they chased one another around the departure lounge because there were so many other others waiting around for updates about this very long delay.
I stopped at a little girl, black hair in a few little pony tails with big, red-balled elastics holding each to the scalp. She was about five and very shy. “Do you sing?” I asked. A nod. What’s your favorite song?”
“Twinkle twinkle little star.”
“I know that one. Will you sing it with me?” but to this inquiry, she demurred and I heard, “She’s shy. This one sings!” And a boy, three or four years old came up to me. He was the little brother of the shy girl. His mother gave out a big chuckle and tossed her head from side to side and the father leaned forward, relaxed forearms on his thighs and beamed, “Oh he sings, alright.”
Well, that tiny child didn’t stand much higher than my knees but he was huge in his actions. He stepped out of the little grouping told me, “I SING!” and I thought, ‘This isn’t going to be any Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, this fellow’s going to belt something out!
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Isaac!”
“What will you sing today?”
“Do you like Michael Jackson?” he asked with enthusiasm.
“I love him and I believe he was innocent of all charges.”
His family, in that wonderful motion that only African American congregations can muster, agreed with me on that verdict. “Amen to that.” “You got that right.” Nods all around. It was quite a large group, or maybe it was because their attitude and energies were huge, but the impression was of one big happy clan. I was vacuumed into their zone and prepared myself to enjoy Michael Jackson’s Mini-Me.
He stepped into an open space an into character. This tiny boy became the one and only The King of Pop right before an audience of curious, delayed folks that had also been drawn in to his confident atmosphere. The posturing, the hand motions, the voice, the twirling and moon walking master of his Universe had me at “I can sing”, but when he started his rendition of BILLY JEAN. There was a smattering of clapping and I was the loudest.
He finished the song but said, “I need a HAT!” Someone from his family immediately shot out an arm with said article and he grabbed it, put it on at that ‘hide-half-my-face-Michael-
Again, this time for a very large and captivated audience, BILLY JEAN was his girl. Lucky girl. Lucky crowd.
The only way anyone can follow an act like Isaac’s is to sit down in the nearest empty seat and have a quiet conversation with another family. I found the little yellow croc shoe girl’s unit and met her mommy and an aunt. We chatted about this and that until the real reason for their trip to Florida the first place was revealed. The trip down from New York was to visit a sick relative. Really sick. “She’s my mothah.” said the young father. “She’s in hospice now and we just left hah. It’s cansah and it’s bad. She didn’t want us to stay longah but what can ya’ do? We’re going home now, but can come back again, but we didn’t wanna’ leave this time. Ya know?” Hospice can encompass a very brief time but it can also be a few weeks or longer. The individual sometimes forces the will to live to override the estimated time of departure dictated by the doctors. I’ve witnessed this myself.
My mother, a very lapsed Methodist, had kidney disease. The Anglican minister and the Bishop went to her hospital room to give her the last rites when I was eleven (1963). Instead, she was asked, “Would you like to be confirmed into the Anglican church?” Wow, they never give up, eh? Well, Mom was said to have agreed so the deed was done, a white prayer book given as the bonus prize and Mom lived until I was seventeen (1970). There’s a lot to be said for religion, I guess, but Mom told me that she’d never leave until she was sure my brother and I would be ok, so I think her cast iron determination was equally in play. At seventeen, I just assumed I was totally ok, ready to be a grown up and had ‘arrived’ just because my Mom died. She was a medical miracle. A conundrum. A MOTHER. They don’t leave until they think their young can handle life without them. Well, mine didn’t, at any rate.
The delay was very long. Four hours and then, once boarded, JFK closed again and we were all together on an airplane for two hours. The folks were allowed off with their boarding passes and personal belongings, but those who stayed aboard were well fed, watered and kept abreast of the avionic situation for that entire time. Our captain was always updating the listening audience and great communication is a Jetblue trait that pays dividends with the traveling public, especially when they’re being held hostage during long delays. It was a fun time, actually.
Just before we closed up for the flight, the young man, who’d been visiting his dying mother, got a call on his cell. He looked up at me from his front row seat, eyes enormous, face pinched, “I just talked to my uncle. He says she’s unresponsive.” He couldn’t compute this fact and the disbelief registering on his face gave him the countenance of a little boy being told that Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy weren’t real. It was too much information for this son. His wife, baby on her lap, and his sister were seated across the aisle and heard him. They all looked up at me with pleading in their eyes. They were thinking, “Should we get off this plane and go to the hospital to see Ma?” This was what they were thinking and I could tell that the strength they were employing was absolutely super-human. The mother had insisted they return to New York, after all.
“She wanted us to take this flight. She was weak but I sorta’ thought that I could come back, ya’ know? Like I could come back soon and....” his voice trailed off and his eyes were veiled in self-doubt. “She told us to take this flight back to New Yawk. It’s like she didn’t want us there any more, ya’ know?”
My little family of the yellow croc shoed child sat on both sides of the plane in the front row. The babe slept almost the entire way so the adults were forced to think about the bed ridden mom they loved so very much. The tiny little lady who had told them to take the flight back to New York.
The trip was uneventful. Everyone, including the crew, was very tired. I’d only had four hours sleep between trips because of the delays of the previous night. Eight hours between one landing and the next report-for-duty time is what we must endure during these irregular operations, but I can’t use all that time for sleep. I have to mellow out, shower, wash my uniform in a hotel sink and read a bit before slumber hits me. My legs were really swollen and I was a hurting unit, but there’s always someone hurting more than a body, isn’t there? There sure was that night on that flight. I lost my mom forty-one years before and I’m still healing. It was really hard to see her live in pain just for my brother and me, but this little family was living this in real time and it was all so fresh and agonizing for them. Final good-byes, even when expected, are a terrible shock but they didn’t want to admit that they may have bid the sick lady a final ‘Adieu’. Very few of us can say ‘Good-bye’, for that last time, on cue.
We finally landed. “You’re now welcome to use your cell phone if it’s readily accessible.” The young father did so. Looking at me and at nobody, he exclaimed, “She passed!” There were tears in that row, lots of tears, but they were a very strong threesome as they deplaned with that beautiful little, now barefoot, girl. We all hugged and words are not enough at such times.
Out on the jetbridge, as they awaited the delivery of their checked-in-the-belly-of-the-
“6:09"
“My mothah died at 6:11. She wanted us to leave Florida before she’d let go.”
If that newly passed mother could see her young ones through my eyes, she’d be smiling and nodding, “You’re fine. You’ll be ok now and so will I because I know you’ll be fine without me.”
Yes. Mothers wait. Mothers die. Sons and daughters mourn. Grandchildren grow up hearing all the stories about their Granny’s.
Yet, Isaac is carrying on for Michael Jackson, keeping him alive in actions and music. That little girl in the yellow crocs and pretty dress may just have her granny’s smile and, I hope, for many, many decades, she goes, goes, goes.
That’s life. Delays, take offs, landings. That’s life.
*wheels up time-the time awarded to departing aircraft for ‘rotation’ or take off. i.e. “We have a wheels up time of 1800 hours (6:00 PM). It’s one o’clock now, so let’s not board the customers just yet.” (Ya’ THINK?)
Thanks Heather.....
A Little Boy's Explanation of God
EXPLANATION OF GOD:
One of God's main jobs is making people.
He makes them to replace the ones that die, so there will be enough people to take care of things on earth. He doesn't make grownups, just babies. I think because they are smaller and easier to make. That way he doesn't have to take up his valuable time teaching them to talk and walk. He can just leave that to mothers and fathers.'
'God's second most important job is listening to prayers. An awful lot of this goes on, since some people, like preachers and things, pray at times beside bedtime. God doesn't have time to listen to the radio or TV because of this. Because he hears everything, there must be a terrible lot of noise in his ears, unless he has thought of a way to turn it off.'
'God sees everything and hears everything and is everywhere which keeps Him pretty busy. So you shouldn't go wasting his time by going over your mom and dad's head asking for something they said you couldn't have.'
'Atheists are people who don't believe in God. I don't think there are any in Chula Vista . At least there aren't any who come to our church.'
'Jesus is God's Son. He used to do all the hard work, like walking on water and performing miracles and trying to teach the people who didn't want to learn about God. They finally got tired of him preaching to them and they crucified him. But he was good and kind, like his father, and he told his father that they didn't know what they were doing and to forgive them and God said O.K.'
'His dad (God) appreciated everything that he had done and all his hard work on earth so he told him he didn't have to go out on the road anymore. He could stay in heaven. So he did. And now he helps his dad out by listening to prayers and seeing things which are important for God to take care of and which ones he can take care of himself without having to bother God. Like a secretary, only more important.'
'You can pray anytime you want and they are sure to help you because they got it worked out so one of them is on duty all the time.'
'You should always go to church on Sunday because it makes God happy, and if there's anybody you want to make happy, it's God! Don't skip church to do something you think will be more fun like going to the beach. This is wrong. And besides the sun doesn't come out at the beach until noon anyway.'
'If you don't believe in God, besides being an atheist, you will be very lonely, because your parents can't go everywhere with you, like to camp, but God can. It is good to know He's around you when you're scared, in the dark or when you can't swim and you get thrown into real deep water by big kids.'
'But...you shouldn't just always think of what God can do for you. I figure God put me here and he can take me back anytime he pleases. And...that's why I believe in God.'
Thanks Kerry... very cute
Amish Buggies
Amish Stories blogspot has recipes, food stands, handcrafted art like painted horseshoes, and other Amish cultural stuff. It's posted by a non Amish guy (if you've no idea what Amish are, they are anti technology descedants of the Swiss and German immigrants of the 1690's to the Pennsylvania and Ohio area, they have a German accent, build everything by hand using no electrical tools, and they also won't join the military)
But the horse carriages and buggies are unique in America for all I know, as the Amish won't own, drive, or ride in cars. Maybe they have a historic date that they aren't allowed to pass in material technology, because they are very aware of the rest of the worlds technology, but they religiously adhere to the farming culture of their ancestors. Their carpentry is said to be superb.
Thanks Kerry
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)