Nature Songs ~~~~
JUNE, 2002 ~
continued
June 16, 2002 ~ And Cherry Pepsi, Too! ~~ All in the same day pleasures of the past once more brought joyful memories. Lunchtime was savoring the root beer float. Suppertime was the sweet tasty cherry mixed with the diet Pepsi. There was more fun following that meal.
Allan and Buddy Boy took me out for supper at one of the steak houses in town. Buddy Boy chose where we would eat. His choice was the one that had the ice cream for dessert. They not only had the soft serve that many places offer, but also a freezer containing all sorts of regular ice creams; cups of various flavors (the gooey rich ones), popcicles, sandwiches, pushups, ice cream on a stick, and Buddy Boy’s favorite the bubble gum flavor.
My favorite of the meal was the cherry Pepsi. I savored every sip and our waitress brought another glass to refill mine. Buddy Boy drank all his fruit punch and tasted some of my drink. He liked it and drank about a half glass of the cherry Pepsi instead of having his cup refilled. Kids today think they are coming up with new ideas when they see the cherry Pepsi, cherry Coke and cherry other drinks. Not so! We were the first to come up with the combinations way back in the early fifties.
Our drinks were served to us in glasses from a soda fountain. No bottled drinks were around for carrying them home like the two and three liters of today. Some of the drinks were bottled, but they were intended for single servings and the bottles had to be returned and reused. The very first ones were not mixed with the bubbly water until they were served. Metal containers of syrup and larger bottles of the pressurized carbonated water were hooked up to separate pumps for dispensing.
First some ice went into a glass, several ounces of thick gooey syrup added, and then the glass was filled to the brim with the bubbly clear carbonated water before being served. The bubbles were racing to the top of the glass as the drink was served and often if one were to take a sip immediately, the fizz could be felt in the mouth.
On a hot summery day, nothing could be better than sitting at one of the tiny round tables, sipping on a cherry Pepsi, and feel the air moved by the huge black fans humming noisily overhead. Progress has changed many things, but the taste of the cherry Pepsi is as rewarding today as it was in the beginning. There was one other drink we partook of: The Suicide! It was made by adding a little of all the different flavors of drink lined up along the back wall counter before the fizz was filled the rest of the way to the top of the glass.
Once back home, there was another surprise. Seems that Allan was feeling playful and ready for some fun. He was driving my car since I have trouble climbing up into his truck. Wanting to see how the pumpkins and watermelons were doing, he decided to drive out to the other side of the field to take a look. Rabbits of many sizes were out feeding in the field. There is definitely an over abundance of rabbits around here this summer and he had no problem finding them.
He wondered if he could drive and catch up with a rabbit as it hopped toward the briar patch. My car became the toy for his experiment. Buddy Boy laughed so much with the enjoyment of the moment and said, "Do it again, Daddy. Do it again." So we were off following another rabbit as it raced to the honeysuckle plot beside the watershed ditch.
"There Daddy! There’s one. See? Go after it." It raced through the garden on it’s way seeking safety. One rabbit played tag with us as it went around the trailer parked in the field. Another one was outsmarting Allen. It merely went from side to side through the grape vines. A clump of grass was around the vines of one of the grape vines that reached upward to the wire strands and intertwined with the other vines. The rabbit felt safe there around the clump of grass and dared not venture far from it.
All to soon, the rabbits had scattered to their special hiding places and it was time to turn the car toward the house and the carport. I remembered seeing another rabbit closer to the house and described it to Allan. I was not the traditional gray as our local wild rabbits, but had some brown around its neck and on all four legs. The legs were much longer than our other rabbits and the ears were larger. It looked like it may be mixed with one of the large jackrabbits. Maybe I’ll see it again and get a picture of it.
June 17, 2002 ~ Cybermare Blues ~~ Some would call it a nightmare, but in this golden age of electronics when something goes wrong with the computer, the word nightmare doesn’t begin to encircle the whole problem. (Wow! I just barely got that sentence expressed in the allotted number of words suggested for the longest a sentence should be.) It’s one of those occasions when all goes wrong. T’would be noteworthy indeed if one could trash the puter when it acts up so often, but money-wise t’would be impossible for moi. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, and probably months have been spent tinkering with the fragile innards of the Thing. It refuses to be cooperative.
Freezing up in the middle of some work or a game is its favorite nuisance and those attacks are occurring way too often. Each time, the machine has to be shutdown manually, rebooted and then the wait for it to run its course checking out the system to make sure all is well. No matter how often the programs are run to fix the problems, those pesky problems slip by untouched - only to pop up more often. I am getting good at rebooting the computer with the recovery CD. I only do the partial recovery, but with the built-up emotions within me from its acting up, I am more than ready to put in the recovery CD and wipe out everything and begin anew. I’ve backed up all I want to save and I’m ready.
Perchance, ultimately a solitary infamous infinitesimal green Martian has honed in on a Cyber ray. He sent a downward spiral beam on that ray and temporarily deviated to the interior of my equipment to play havoc. Little did he know that his interpretation of the electronically devices within were not anywhere near my meager knowledge. When he messed around with my equipment, I attempted to counter his attack. The war was on and I ultimately became the loser the same as if I were playing a game of Bridge or Chess.
Microsoft Internet Explorer fell victim to his ploy the other day. For several weeks I’ve attempted to update to Explorer 7 only to be instructed that a former program was not fully installed and the computer needed to be restarted to get it working. I knew that wouldn’t work. I had just opened the programs. Search as I may I never found the offender. Finally Explorer went bye-bye and I could only use the Netscape. Netscape? It disappeared Saturday night. I know not why or how. It had to be that Martian. Checking email was all I could do for most of Sunday. That’s when the recovery CD made its appearance and straightened out the Internet problem. It reinstalled Explorer for me. Now I have a lot of touching up to do for the next few days.
That Martian is sitting back in his spaceship way above the Earth taking great delight with how I happen to manage my end of the visit he made to me. There are some other problems besides the lost Cyberspace bouncing around lost inside the case. When I push that button to erase all and restart, they will once again be stable and cued in to what they are programmed to do.
Makes me wonder; what if the Martians are blue instead of green. Could be that the Blue Men got their color from them as well as some of the things they come up with for all the programs that they perform ... They happened to be more alert to what took place and learned from the Martians. Could it be? My Cybermare blues may have been averted if only I knew a little more about what was taking place ...
June 18, 2002 ~ Medical Ploys ~~ Perchance not the best use of words to describe happenstance’s of office visits, but it does appear as such. The eye examine for the day was most interesting. This is the one medical group where everything is done on such a level that all personal touches are erased from the book. A lone individual exhibited a touch of warmth as she maneuvered through her steps of the program.
As I entered the office and approached the desk to sign in, the mechanism went into motion. In her monotone mode, the receptionist went through her little details of checking my vitals for address, family doctor, insurances, and directions for me to fill out a one page form as I awaited my turn. I sat and begin filling out the questionnaire. I should have been truthful and answered the first question, “Because the doctor told me to come back in one year.” This was in answer to the question, “Why are you seeing the doctor today?” Must of the rest of the page was really a repeat of what was on file with them. They could have said to mark only those things that have changed and I could skip down to the bottom of the page and list the medicines I’m now taking which is all that had changed. At my age not much of the family history is going to be changing.
My name was called and the procedure leading to my seeing the doctor began. First off I was led to a tiny room where I mainly sat as the technician went over the page I had filled in and copied my list of medicines onto the doctor’s form. This same lady (who was the nice one of the day) led me down the larger hall to a smaller one on the right and we entered an even smaller room. In this room I was placed behind the machine that shoots a sudden burst of air into the eye checking for glaucoma. I’m surprised this antiquated machine has not been updated as other Ophthalmologists have done. Mother’s eye doctor uses a hand held tool up to the eye to read the pressure with no burst of the aggravating air. DynoKid’s eyes were done with a laser type machine or something resembling one. His nurse lined up his eyes in a machine, no air, and she pushed a button and got a printout of the results - again none on that bothersome air.
Progressing on to the next progression in another room down the same hallway, this same person who had turned all professional as we left the first area, checked my eyes. It turned out that she was the only one to do the checking to see if my glasses needed to be changed. Again, compared to DynoKid’s examine, it was archaic. His glasses were “read” by the receptionist with a machine.
Sitting out in the larger hall, I awaited my call for seeing the doctor. His nurse I have known for ages. She has worked for him since he was in the older building uptown. She used to be friendly. This day, she too was aloof and robotical in movements. Everything was cut and dried with no frills when it came to being pleasant. Ever since my doctor has joined in with a larger group, his building had been invaded with the staff and procedures of the elite professionalism demanded of the larger corporation.
Next came the call from her to enter another section of the building to await the doctor. She quickly settled me in the chair, said the doctor would be there shortly, and left closing the door behind her. The doctor came in and shook my hand before quickly checking my eyes since they had been dilated by technician number one. He rambled off a lot of words unknown by me which his nurse jotted down on my chart. Bottom line was that my vision has changed little, the dry eyes are as bad as ever and I get another jell type lubricant to use. There is not sign of diabetes damage to the eye.
That last tidbit of information happened to be the one catching me off guard. It appears that since he (or the group?) know that I am taking a very small amount of medication for the diabetes that I am now a prime candidate for bringing in more money for them. Apparently there is more money to be earned if one is treated for diabetes. He used his phone in my presence to dictate a letter sent to my regular doctor relating his findings. I was asked to please have my doctor write out a request to have my eyes checked for any signs of diabetes damage and bring it with me for my next appointment in one year.
I understand the need for many people to have eye exams once they have diabetes and I’m all too well aware of the damage it can cause. But the level of problems I am experiencing does not usually lead to severe eye problems. It does mean more money for the medical profession. One has to wonder ... After all, this is not a situation where I’ve had problems that have run amuck as to diabetes. It is controlled and has never been “high” (registering up over 200 and such) as to be a concern to others in the health profession ...
June 19, 2002 ~ Sudden Impact ~~ Waves of the past came flooding back as if it were only yesterday.. Dateline last night was all too familiar as victims of a wreck were followed through after their car was hit by a drunken driver. The victims were victims in more than just being injured in the crash and the effects were life-changing for all of them. The trauma was not one that would leave them anytime soon, if ever!
Injuries were not as severe and there was no death from the impact of the situation we experienced. Otherwise, the program could have been centered on the wreck which occurred back in 1964 and involved my family. Little did anyone ever imagine what laid ahead for me.
The biggest differences in the crashes of the TV program and ours was the fact that the boy that slammed into us was racing. Well, it could also be noted that a police officer observed him throwing out a beer cane from his truck as he turned onto the road where we met our destiny from his condition. His license had been revoked due to drunken driving and he only got them back the day before clobbering our station wagon.
From there the scene and outcome was much the same as that experienced by who knows how may others through the years. He only had to pay the court costs which amounted to $16 at that time. Yes, it was a small amount to pay even back then. No attention was paid to the fact that he had been convicted for drunken driving in the past and had just begun driving again. Several months later, we were to find out that our insurance was terminated because of the wreck. We were not supposed to be notified until the insurance came due, but were fortunate enough to learn the fact in time to get coverage elsewhere and not have a lapse in coverage.
Why were we dropped? Simply because he was an assigned risk and the state assigned him to the Nationwide Company. They couldn’t therefore suspend his coverage, and suspended ours so they wouldn’t handle both accounts. To this day it still does not make sense to me. They still had to settle with us for the injury I sustained which was a permanent injury to my back and for repair of our vehicle. We had no marks against us on our insurance policy. There were no prior incidents where we had even used the policy and there was no problem getting new coverage. The company itself never made a statement of any sort as to why we were terminated. We knew the man carrying the policy and he told us, but also said not to tell anyone he had told us. It was against company policy....
My life and the life of my family was altered forever. Things would never be the same. Anything we did had to be centered around my back and the limitations it placed on my ability to interact with the world. Mention was made that it was probably my back that put so much pressure on my knees and may have contributed to the replacements along with the later injuries which impaired them even more. The “what ifs” and “maybes” will never be known for not having the bad back.
Now my oldest son is beginning his own siege with a back injury incurred from a car wreck. He was not the driver and not even present when the wreck occurred. He was the paramedic that came to the scene and brought help to the injured. His injury happened as he helped to bring the stretcher back up a rocky incline from where the car landed in a creek. Now he faces his own private battle with his work, workman’s comp, home, and other related situations. Concern is laying heavy on his mind as to whether he will be able to provide for necessities of life in the future. He is forty-one. I was only twenty-eight.
No one ever promised that life would be easy. No one seems to take time to evaluated the future of all those involved with car wrecks and drunken drivers. The effects are far reaching both with people who’s lives are affected and into the future.
June 20, 2002 ~ Boudacious Bloopers ~~ on my part, no doubt!! Yes, instances occur when I can make little blunders - same as everyone else - maybe even more often and a bit worse than most other people. The majority of these times are circumstances I wish others would never hear about. Worse yet is when one is observed and I can only trust it will never be mentioned again ... forgotten, even. Strange how the mind goes blank about embarrassing situations of the past.
Convincing my aunt that I knew how to drive when actually I’d never driven at all was a lulu of a huge jam I got into. Of course it was a sort of deep ditch and a rather damp one at that. We were in the car waiting for my uncle to come out from work. I was given permission to go down the road and back. There we were out in a secluded spot way back when I was about eleven or so. Within the first fifteen feet or so, back before the invention of power steering on vehicles, that car took control and went only one direction - straight into the ditch. Oh, it was raining a bit. In the cold rain, my uncle had to walk a distance to get a farmer to bring his tractor to pull the car out of the ditch. He didn’t have much to say about the incidence to me. Wonder what conspired between the two of them when they were home alone? We never mentioned what happened after that night.
Years later, in fact after three of my own children were driving, I made a wrong choice of what to do with my truck. It was close on dusk and I was driving through a shortcut which was again sparsely developed with homes and people. There was a strange bump- bumping feel to the truck as I maneuvered around the curves. I swerved the steering wheel aback and forth to see how it felt. Having good control, I thought, “Well, I’ll drive on home and check out what that sound is.” It wasn’t too far on down the road and I realized that it was a tire. “Oh well, it’s not much further to go, so I won’t stop here in the boonies.”
Once home, the tire was still on the rim, but it was in shreds from the sharp edge of the rim pressing through as I drove. I had in mind that the tire was an old one and needed to be changed anyway. Not so, it was the newer tire that I had ruined. Any single parent should have to talk themselves out of that situation with three teenagers. My final line of defense was that it really was not safe for me to have stopped along side the country road. Wonder how I would have handled that situation if it had been one of the children instead of moi?
There have been all sorts of errors in judgment while in the kitchen. I happen to be one of those cooks that have a problem with choosing or following a recipe when cooking. It’s my style to dump and stir. Why bother to mess up cups and spoons to measure? This I learned from my Mother. She was using that method to make a pineapple upside down cake while living in Asheville. As the cake came out of the oven, she immediately cut a section and gave it to a neighbor to take home with her. We reminded her for years after that how she had used corn meal in the batter instead of flour. Actually, the cake was pretty good; just a tad different in taste.
Error in judgment about people and money is much too easy to make. I have to add my name to the long list of others that have made poor judgment calls and ended up loosing money at times. I’ve been fortunate inasmuch as I’ve never lost much money. It’s easy to sit back and read or watch the news about older folks being swindled out of their life savings. I have to wonder how many have made the wrong call for lesser amounts and how much it may cost if all those times were totaled.
My latest bad call was concerning psoriasis. A letter containing pamphlets came addressed to me which announced a produce being tested for psoriasis. Anyone with that “p” word knows how difficult it is to treat and get good results. It even said to show it to my doctor ... I didn’t do anything about it other than place it in a basket with other things to think about. About a month later, a phone call came following up the letter with inquiries about my taking part in a trial using a new product. I said I would be interested in finding out more about anything that would help those pesky spots that has the audacity to keep popping up. I looked at the drug stores, but never saw the product mentioned.
Close to Christmas there was another call from the “Florida Research Team” which seemed to be knowledgeable and even had a “doctor” to check with me about the severity and length of time I’ve had psoriasis. I agreed to order some and give it a try. Nothing sounded out of the way and considering the time, letter and different calls, I deemed it all on the up and up. Even when the “doctor” said that they were going to be closed over Christmas and a little time afterward, I didn’t sense a problem. My bill came for the credit card, and there was the product listed. I never received any product.
The directions on my card said that I had to send proof that I’d contacted the company before making the request to them for nonpayment for that amount. Alas, no phone call could be made with success. Checking out things on the computer, everything comes out to be a farce. No legitimate website, no company in Florida, no address for the one I had in the Florida town - all came out as a blank wall with no leads to follow. I had been swindled out of some money. Thank goodness it wasn’t a large amount. It only proves to me that no matter how legitimate an offer appears to be, it should always to checked out this day and age.
A book or two could be written of all those incidences when hindsight would have been great to have had beforehand.
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Lenoir,NC 28645
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©2002 by Stormy Jeanne
