Highway 30 Cruisers, & a Reunion

Posted on August 3, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

Yesterday Diane took her Mom, Jean, shopping for groceries at Fred Meyer in Scappoose. On the way, Diane suggested that I go see what’s happening at the car show being held at the Spring Meadows Old Folks Home, which is almost directly across Highway 30 from Freddies. Thinking I might enjoy that, vs. wandering around the store with no direction, I agreed and took over the driver’s seat after Diane and Mom exited the vehicle.

The car show was put on by the Highway 30 Cruisers, a local car club which I’ve been asked to join because I have an old 1968 Chevy truck. Since the truck isn’t a piece of work one would normally display at a car show I’ve been hesitant but after today, I’m not so sure.

“Why,” you may ask, to which I would respond, “because they have a show category right up my alley. It’s called “In Progress”, and here’s the winner for the show …

There was a little history on the old truck explaining that the owner found the truck at the bottom of a lake where it had resided for many years. There was no mention of how it got there, or if he was the original owner, but, considering his age, I would venture to say it may have belonged to his grandfather, or someone in that age category. Neither was there any mention of what it took to render the truck drivable after draining all the water out of it, but I’d guess it wasn’t an easy process. The did report, however, that nothing has been done to the body since returning it to daylight, and a quick peek around the bottom of the doors indicates it has a serious rust issue going on. Mine doesn’t. So, I could enter mine in this category with confidence that I could at least get second place. Now all I have to do is get the transmission fixed, replace the flywheel, and have someone with more knowledge than me adjust the starter so it doesn’t break anything when engaged. Once there, I’ll join the club and share my good fortune as it happens.

Here’s an old 50-something Chevy hardtop that was pretty nice. It’s an interesting color. I talked with the owner for a while, another old guy, as are all the folks who had their cars in the show. He gave me the history on the car, but I can’t remember what he told me. But, it was a nice visit.

The next photo is of a card attached to the inside of the windshield of an old model A (I think) with a rumble seat. I’ve mentioned in the past, many times, I’m sure, that Mrs. Roney picked me up at school in one of these and drove me to her house for my piano lessons. She did that for five years, second through sixth grade. I always rode in the rumble seat. What fun. I don’t think anyone’s likely to ride in the rumble seat on this rig.
The next one is owned by an old friend, Gary, with whom I played drums in the high school band in 1961, or so. It’s a 1936 Plymouth in pristine condition. We had a good time in the back row of the band. When I got to his car I saw Spud & Leonna. That was odd, because Spud was a year ahead of me in high school and I inherited the #1 drummer position when he graduated, and there we were, three old Scappoose High School drummers. Small world, huh? Well, it’s not a large town so it’s not really unusual.

This Corvair belongs to Dave, one of my classmates from high school. Someone told me he had to push it to the show, but I later learned that was a bald-faced lie. He drove it there just fine. He’s married to Janice, one of Diane’s high school classmates.

I’ve decided that I’m not going to do anything with the body of my truck, but I’ll do this under the hood. The only difference will be mine has a 454, not a 427. Should look nice in a rusty grey truck, don’t you think?As I wandered around, aimlessly, looking at the vehicles on display, I encountered one of Diane’s old boyfriends, Pinky, who still owes me $20 for a pair of chrome rims I sold him. I’ve been reminding him about that for the last 50 years, but he won’t pay me. I think they’re worth more now, but he says he no longer has them so it’s really a moot point because I can’t prove I sold them to him. I will, however, point out his failure to pay whenever I see him. We do, by the way, get along just fine. I just like to rub his fur the wrong way a little. Besides, I got Diane, he didn’t. Maybe he figures that took care of the $20 he owed me, but I don’t see it that way. I’d expand on that a little, but I see absolutely no way I can do so without digging this huge hole from which I would never exit. So, I’ll move along.

This morning we got up early and left the house at 0900 and headed for Big Eddy Park over by Vernonia on Highway 47. Jennifer, Daniel, Lydia, and Jeran spent the last few days there for their Church Camp, when we’ve attended in the past with them, and Daniel was delivering the message at their out-door church service in the park. We made it in plenty of time and really enjoyed the service. There was a lot of singing, a little praying, then Daniel gave us a sermon that was spot on. He explained how he had plenty of time to get his talk all written out, but he put it off in favor of other things … like TV, video games, books, etc. Suddenly, it was time to produce the goods and he wasn’t quite ready until he realized that his actions were the topic … about how we get sidetracked by mundane things instead of focusing on God and the wonders He provides. It was pretty perfect and we’re really proud of Daniel.

After the service we headed for the car while everyone else got in line for the potluck. It was best that we didn’t stay because while walking to the service from where we parked, next to Jennifer, I was carrying a jar of salsa. Jennifer was walking in front of me and just as we got to the table, the lid came off, like magic, and the motion of my swinging arm provided exactly the right momentum to expel a large amount of the salsa all over the back of Jennifer’s legs. It was a mess and I was properly embarrassed for a pretty short time, until another Jennifer got our Jennifer all wiped down, and I was able to kick dirt over the other remaining evidence of the mishap. It was completely innocent, but it’s something I will probably hear about for a long time. Not staying for the pot luck also ensured that we didn’t find it necessary to eat any of the remaining salsa, leaving more for others.

Our destination from Big Eddy was the old Trojan Nuclear facility just south of Rainier on Highway 30. That’s where the 2014 picnic was happening for the class of ’62. We do picnics every year so this was, in reality, our 53rd reunion. Trojan is where I worked for a couple of years for PGE right after getting out of the Navy in 1989, so it was familiar territory for me. I used to take care of all the computers for everyone there. All by myself. For two years. A daunting task for someone with no formal computer repair training. I figured it out, however, and managed to stick around with PGE for 21 years.

There were 25 classmates and many spouses at the reunion, so we had a great time visiting. Here’s what we looked like today …

I’m in there somewhere. And, thanks to my handy little remote, I took this photo. We’re a pretty varied, and ambulatory group of old folks who are all pretty much 70 years old. Considering that we only had 99 in our graduating class, I think we’re hanging in there nicely.

Now, since i didn’t get to finish my morning nap, I’m going to bed.

Noxious Weeds & Other Things

Posted on July 28, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

The first round of blackberries are ready for picking, so get your buckets and come help us get rid of them. No matter how vicious I am with the blackberry clippers, they grow back. So, we have a zillion of them. If you don’t like them for eating, it’s always fun to give them to little kids so they can smear them all over each other. That’s always fun.

These things are all over the place and they are very clingy when attacked. Long sleeves, long pants, hats, and leather gloves are a must unless you have are OK with pain and bleeding. The upside is, of course, they taste really good and make the challenge of picking them worth it.

My unsupervised forays into the wilderness surrounding our home have been limited due to the high temperatures we’ve been having. High for us, that is. It’s really only in the high 80’s and low 90’s, but gets into the 60’s at night so sleeping is wonderful. Since I generally don’t venture outside unless I have something important to do, like remove weeds, rake rocks, haul trees to the burn pile, stuff like that, I always wind up expelling huge amounts of moisture that must be replaced. I know this because my lovely bride makes it her mission to ensure I don’t run dry. She brings me large glasses of water on a regular basis, and I’ve learned that I can go get it all by myself, when I want, leaving her free to do more important things like cook dinner for me, or clean the house. You know, woman-type work. That sounds a bit sexist, I guess, but we have a relationship where I take care of things outside the house, and Diane takes care of things on the inside. She told me that once. It’s good to be king.

Having said that, I must share that Jeran would disagree – I’m not the king. Instead, Diane is the queen. He has no illusions about who’s in charge at my location. Neither do I, really. I just have lapses in common sense once in a while and think I’m the ruler. Diane will agree.

Diane just left to play bunco at a friend’s house, so I’m alone with the TV remote. It’s a rare event for me to have the remotes in our living room. The Man Room is where I’m free to change channels to my heart’s desire. Fortunately, Diane’s remote and my remote are just exactly alike so I know how to use it.

That’s what I’m going to do, right now. Just sit here and randomly change channels.

What fun.

Don’t forget those blackberries.

Golf, Baseball, & Thieves

Posted on July 19, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

Yesterday I was forced to participate in a golf tournament at the Wildwood Golf Course which everyone in the country knows is located on the West side of Highway 30 not too far past the truck scales on the way to Portland from Scappoose. Most everyone of importance also knows that Jack & Wynette had their wedding reception in the Wildwood Club House which was located right next to Highway 30. At some point in the future, it mysteriously burned down, the golf course receded back into the forest, lost & forgotten, and was ultimately resurrected and expanded into an 18-hole course that careens through a small valley, and up and down hills. The current owner is, in my opinion, an abject jerk, so I don’t go there often. I may never go there again, for that reason. One person mentioned that he’s a “money whore,” which was confirmed by his willingness to insert walk-on golfers into the midst of the tournament we were involved in. Nice.

The tournament was a version of best ball, and it was gratifying to me that a couple of my balls were deemed best. That just means that I hit my ball better than those in our foursome so everyone was allowed to hit their next shot from that spot. I even made a few pretty good chip shots onto the green. My foursome was composed of Doug & Jim, high school classmates, and George, a person none of us had ever met until tee time. All in all, it was a good day.

On the way home I followed Doug home so I could check Carolyn’s computer to see why her Gmail wouldn’t appear. She wasn’t there when we arrived, but her computer was energized so I hit a few keys, clicked the Gmail icon and it popped up quite smartly. When Doug saw this he went, “Hmmm. She must have figured it out.” Then we sat in the living room and visited for a while. Then I went home to play in the dirt for a while before cleaning up to attend Lydia’s soccer game.

Before getting dirty, I took my mid day pills. Shortly thereafter, we went to Diane’s Mom’s, Jean’s, house for a visit where I promptly fell asleep. Then we went to the soccer game which wound up in a 2-2 tie. They played against the 14U rec league team and Lydia played goalie the whole game. Since it was a practice game, and most of those on the 14U team are in-coming St. Helens freshmen this year, the goalies switched sides at half time. The second half Lydia had to block against the varsity team and that’s when she gave up the two goals. But, she blocked about 20 shots. She did good.

Back at home, I had a hard time staying awake so decided to go to bed. It was then I discovered that I had taken my sleeping pill, the dreaded Ambien, somewhere around 3 pm. So, the erratic behavior Diane witnessed was totally not my fault. I slept through the night anyway, which surprised me.

This morning I got back into my morning nap routine and didn’t go out to get dirty and sweaty until 10 am or so. Consequently, I only got about 4 hours in before it was deemed time to eat lunch. We had Taco Bell tacos, always a favorite.

While writing this, I got a text from brother Jack, who is in Arizona with his first wife at this time, watching Sage pitch against a California team at the Cincinnati Reds training field in Phoenix. Sage, as you may all recall, is Maryssa’s boyfriend who is going to play for the North Carolina Tarheels after he graduates from high school next year. He’s a talent to watch. Click his name to check him out – Sage Diehm. A little more research revealed that Sage is the first Idaho baseball player ever recruited by North Carolina. Last text I got from Jack indicated that one of Sage’s teammates had hit a triple, driving in one run so it was 1-0. Nothing since so I have no idea what’s going on now. The suspense is killing me, but I’m not going to beg for an update. Nope. Just not going to do it.

I’m going to have to go rent a large piece of equipment from Don’s Rental so I can move some dirt around a little, leveling the area next to garage in preparation of installing a load of gravel that doesn’t squish up when a car drives over it. That’s wheat we have right now is squishy rocks. They are all round, which was intentional, to allow for good drainage into the pipe I installed some time back. Now I want to park something on it, like one of the old motor homes, or my truck, and need non-squishy gravel so it will remain level. To get the equipment home means I must spend a bit of time trouble shooting my truck to find out which ignition wire I dislodged the last time I drove it so I can get it started. I’ve already cleared this event as one that isn’t technically “working outside” since I’ll be inside the truck, so I’m good to go. Just need to work up a little more motivation. Might even see about getting the old ’73 RV fired up. Or not.

You may have heard about the crime spree going on around town these last few months. Thieves are going around during the day, knocking on doors so see who’s home. Those who aren’t get robbed. Those who are home are asked questions about someone they are looking for, wondering if they are inside. Last I heard, about 60 homes had been robbed. Sadly, the spree has extended to our quiet little dead-end street. Since we have Panzee, a large barking dog who greets family, friends, and strangers with the same intimidating welcome, I doubt seriously if anyone would be motivated to break into the house in our absence. But, you just never know. To be on the safe side, we decided it would probably be a good idea to lock all the doors, to everything, when we leave. In the past we’ve failed to do that many times.

So, any of you who may be compelled to visit our house when we’re aware be forewarned that Panzee, Breezie, and Ozzie have been training as a team to take down anyone they don’t know. It will work like this … you enter the house, via any access, and Panzee will make a concerted effort to rip your testicles off while Breezie takes care of your eyelids. Oz will gnarl his way around your ankles, severing your Achilles tendon, allowing it to snap up into the calf of your leg accompanied by an incredible amount of mind-numbing pain, ensuring you cannot flee the scene. In the unlikely event you are of the female persuasion, Panzee will go for your neck and face. If you have large breasts, you may want to wear a really tight sports bra because they’ll probably get in her way. Breezie’s and Oz’s missions do not change. I do not feel there’s a need to post this information outside the house because the dogs will make their presence known at the first hint of a foreign presence.

In the event you are still compelled to pay us a visit, please ensure you have the name of your next of kin somewhere on your body. Since the back of your shoulders probably will remain undisturbed, it would be a great place to tattoo that information. Alternatively, if you are opposed to tattoos, please have your partner in crime use a permanent black marker to help you write this information on the inside band of your underwear. If you don’t wear underwear, the waistband of your pants will suffice.

Better yet, just ensure you have proper ID on entry.

Good luck.

Now I must quit for today and go outside, by request, and climb to the top of a 24′ extension ladder to replace one of our outside security lights.

Eyeballs, Weeds, & Jerrie

Posted on July 16, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

Monday morning I did something I haven’t done in about 4 years — I got up at 0530, fed the dogs, then went to work. It was a test, to see if I could actually do it and I think I passed.

Getting to work was a short trip, not like before when I inserted my vehicle into the mass of others heading toward Portland, making the road look like a red snake weaving itself down the road. No, yesterdays trip was only about 30 feet into the back yard where I selected appropriate tools and continued our work on the weed hill that used to contain a bunch of irises. What I’m doing out there is peeling off the top 6 inches, the part that contains the incredibly mass of interwoven grass that’s been growing there since time began. Lots of it comes off in large mats, some in small, but they all come off with lots of resistance. Lots of it. The kind that’s makes one sweaty in the extreme.

However, beginning this work at 0545, or so, was OK because it’s nice and cool then and it takes longer to work up a good sweat. Still, I didn’t like it. That’s too early to be headed to work, even if it is only outside the back door. So, I”m not going to do it any more. I’d rather have my morning nap.

After the morning workout, I cleaned myself up and Diane drove me to the VA in Hillsboro for my annual eyeball exam. I passed, but learned that retinas, like skin, wrinkle with age. At least mine do. So far it hasn’t impaired my vision but I’m on the lookout for anything funning happening to the things I look at.

Yesterday, Jerrie was 3-years-old. My how time flies. To celebrate the event we contracted with Diane’s Mom, Jean, to use her back yard so the kids could run willy nilly up and down Milton Creek which runs through her back yard. It was a good plan and it worked to perfection. The kids had a great time wading and jumping in the water while those of us more advanced in age enjoyed sitting and visiting in the back yard. It was great.

Jerrie & the cake …

Baylee, Gilligan & Jerrie blowing out the candles …

A new jeans jacket from Aunt Jennie and Uncle Daniel.

Girls in the water …

Gilligan doesn’t stand still for very long. Jumping is her ‘thing’ …

Baylee is a bit more subdued, but still a poser …That was yesterday. Today I put on my American Legion hat and participated in a flag raising ceremony to officially open the Columbia County Fair. In all, there were approximately twenty of us lining the path to the flag. Our shipmate, Frank Weber, WWII veteran who served aboard the Colorado during the Big One, raised the flag. He’s 89 now, and retired as a Navy Chief Petty Officer. He’s a very spry guy and I’m honored that I share a connection with him as a chief. In his spare time he manages a Navy Museum in his Scappoose home. He’d love it if you stopped by to look it over.

Also at the fair opening were county Commissioners, state Senators, and Representatives for Columbia County. It was fun to be involved.

After the ceremony I joined Diane and her Mom, Jean, to go look at flowers. Just like every other time we’ve visited the fair, we wished we’d bottled up a few of our flowers to display. We always forget until we see those on display. We have pretty ones, too. Next year, by golly, I’m going to remember to enter a few of my photos for judging. Just for fun. Maybe I’ll make a doily, too.

Lydia was working in the Dairy Booth so I visited with her a bit, using it as an excuse to obtain an extra malty chocolate malt for my sipping enjoyment. An ‘old’ friend, Julia, was there, too. She’s a college girl now. Not long ago, as is true for all the young men and women I know, they were little. All of them. It’s sad that they have to grow up, but good to know they are growing up quite nicely.

I got to visit with Bree, too. She and Lydia are friends and, Bree says, I’m her replacement Grandpa. I’m honored. It’s always fun to see her.

Then we came home, it got dark, and now it’s almost time for bed.

G’nite.

July 4th Update

Posted on July 7, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

In addition to omitting some crucial information from the evening of July 4th, there has been a new development in the form of reduced physical abilities of one member of the household caused by over exuberant efforts playing catch with a much younger person who can throw pretty hard.

1st, the 4th …

As darkness began to fall, we noticed that people were making themselves comfortable in the back yard of our next door neighbor. Ordinarily this wouldn’t be unusual, but, considering that the house has been vacant for over a year, we found it interesting so I went to investigate. First, I looked to see what kind of vehicle was parked out front and determined that it belonged to Jack & Barbara, a young couple we met while they were checking out the view from house in the dark. This time they brought all three of their young children, and two older people who were obviously related in some manner. My guess is they were the grandparents, but I don’t know from which side.

I approached them by walking south down the west side of our garage, between our respective abodes. Since I ripped down the rotten fence between our properties, gaining access to the intruders was a simple matter and it quickly became apparent that they were, indeed, Jack and Barbara. Barbara was carrying their youngest son, Asher, and one thing led to another until we invited them over to help eat some of the enormous amount of food lying around in our kitchen. This gave them an opportunity to compare the view from our deck to the deck of the house they are considering as a their next home.

When Barbara walked into our home carrying Asher, who is 11 months old, she was accosted by Lydia & Maryssa who snatched the child out of her hands. Barbara didn’t appear to mind as Asher was passed back and forth between the girls and Cedric, who has a way with little kids. Asher wasn’t complaining about all the attention at all.

After visiting for a while, we sent Jack & Barbara on their way back to their prospective new home with a Ziploc bag full of watermelon parts. That was my idea, because no one else was eating it and it was a good watermelon. They left Asher with the kids and I’m pretty sure it was intentional because she returned briefly with his blanket, alerting the girls that he was probably going to fall asleep pretty soon, and he did.

It was an interesting encounter. If they truly do end up being our neighbors it will be a good thing. They are good kids. I know because I googled them.

Now, about the physical aspect of my current situation … I’m sure all the aches and pains I’m experiencing were caused when I play catch with Maryssa and Bob. That was three days ago, but the injuries are just now manifesting, serving as an abject lesson that I’m no longer 50 and can’t treat my body as if I were.

Therefore, when it comes time to play catch with Lydia, or Cedric, I will be more careful and throw underhand all the time instead of waiting until my torn rotator cuff rises up to get my attention.

My back hurts, too.

I also have a stomach ache … and Diane is fussy with me about all of it. I should have kept it a secret. She’s probably going to make me go to school tomorrow anyway.

It’s not as easy to be 70 as I thought it would be. Guess it’s time to act my age.

Parades, Relatives, & Injuries

Posted on June 28, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

We watched an episode of “Black Box” the other day to see if it’s something we’d find interesting while all the shows we REALLY like are on hiatus for the summer. We decided it wasn’t a show we would watch with regularity, but one of us came away with new-found knowledge that made them believe I was, and always have been, a Confabulator. That is me, of course, a person who practices Confabulation. I can hardly deny the label since I readily share that not much I say, or write, can honestly be viewed in a serious manner. Also, I kinda like the way the word rolls of my tongue … it’s just one of those words that’s fun to say.

Here’s a question for you … when relatives come to visit are they considered “company”? I ask because whenever we have company it’s necessary for us to clean parts of the house they will probably never see, but you just never know. With relatives, however, they can show up any time so there might not be time to clean. Then, there are relatives who make it known that they will be arriving on a specific date which casts them in to the role of company. It’s very confusing and I think there should be some sort of rule about how much effort people should put into making company comfortable. Complicating this issue is when seniority seeps into the equation. Should lower ranking relatives receive the same kind of attention as high-ranking ones? Something to ponder …

A couple of days ago it was raining so I wasn’t allowed to work outdoors. Instead, I went downstairs to reacquaint myself with various aspects of my shop area. It’s been neglected for a while … well, since I dismantled half my work bench … and needed some attention. I also needed to look things over to see if I remembered where some of my favorite, though rarely used, tools currently reside. It’s a known fact that tools move around all by themselves when ignored for a certain amount of time.

It took me a while to get started because, as is my nature, I couldn’t help but just stand in the middle of everything, looking around, trying to devise a plan that made sense. I do this all the time and it only bothers me a little bit. After a few minutes of staring at “stuff”, I give up and just start moving things around in a Zen kind of way, seeking satisfaction in locating things from one place to another until it just feels right. My ultimate goal was to get the floor clear so I could clean it up a little. Most of it was just sawdust and tiny bits of wood, one of which had retained a nail that used to attach it to another piece of wood. By the time I discovered that last piece, most of the floor was clean so I was able to call a temporary halt to the proceedings after pulling it out of the bottom of my left shoe. Even though I was wearing my comfy foam-soled shoes for safety, the nail penetrated all the way through into that crease where the ball of my foot turns into my big toe. It hurt a lot and caused me to immediately halt the downward pressure of my left foot, an act that would normally cause me to tumble. Oddly, this time I retained my vertical stance and was able to extract the offending nail with relative ease while standing on one leg. I know. You find that hard to believe. Me on one leg. But, I did it.

Then I limped upstairs to find a source of brighter light so I could assess the injury. Diane caught me before I got to a chair and said, in a manner that might make one feel as though they do stuff like that all the time, “what did you do now?”

I said, “I stepped on a nail.”

She said, “do you need a tetanus shot?”

I said, “no” because I think they last for about 10 years and I know, for sure, I’ve had about 5 of them in the last 10. I should be free of the fear of tetanus for the rest of my life.

“OK, she said,” lets see it. I removed my shoe and searched my new white sock fo signs of blood, but it was clean. Taking the sock off, I searched the area of penetration but couldn’t see anything that could possibly cause the amount of pain I felt on first contact.

“Squeeze it,” she said, so I did. After a bit of time, a tiny drop of blood was produced. It was hardly worth the effort. Still, it was necessary to install a small band aid to ensure I didn’t get blood on any of the numerous rugs scattered about the house. At this very moment, even though it’s been a few days, it’s very uncomfortable. It feels like part of my sock is wrinkled up under my toes, even when I’m barefoot.

After getting my bandage, I went back to work, relocating things from the floor to the top of my unfinished work bench in an effort to create some space on the floor so I could move around without shuffling my feet. Once that was done, I went to work relocating some large boards that were leaning against the front of my table saw. To do this required that I bend at the waist a bit, just enough to move my forehead into a nicely cut 45 bevel on a piece of the old mahogany baseboard laying on top of my table saw. Since I’ve had lots of experience with injuries of this type, I knew it hurt enough that I should apply immediate pressure to ensure I didn’t get blood in my eyes. Thankfully, Diane was in the room next to me, so I didn’t have to go seek a mirror to asses the extent of the damage. I just went to her and, as soon as she completed her customary eye roll, removed my hand and asked it if was bleeding. It was, but not as badly as I feared. There was blood, but from more of a scrape instead of a cut. It didn’t even need a band aid, but it got a bit of antibiotic salve which stings, by the way, when it melts and runs into your eye. Blood doesn’t sting at all.

Today I participated in the Scappoose Summerfest parade in, of all places, Scappoose. I was one of 10 flag bearers who led the parade directly behind the first police vehicle on the mile long parade route. I wore my American Legion hat, but could have just as easily worn my VFW hat because the flag bearers were a combination of both groups. I waited my turn and took the last flag available, which turned out to be the Navy flag. I found that interesting. Leading the parade were the American Flag, the POW Flag, and the Oregon State Flag. Behind them we remaining seven toted, from left to right, the VFW Flag, Coast Guard, Air Force, Army, Marine, Navy, and American Legion Flags. One of the younger guys with really long legs kept a verbal cadence going, but some of the shorter vets had a hard time stepping out as far as he did. Consequently, some of us got out of step once in a while. We made it to the end, however, and deemed it to be a good day’s work. It was fun being up front like that, and seeing the respect displayed to us and to the flags. Directly behind us flag bearers was a trailer full of local vets being pulled by Junior’s nice red Bronco, top down, even though it rained a bit.

On the way home I got a call from our friend Tom and learned that all is well in Hillsboro. That’s always good news. He said Linda is spending an inordinate amount of time on her feet because she’s so busy cutting hair so I might have to think twice about adding to her burden by choosing her as my new barber. Mine left town. The last haircut I had was at Camp Pendleton a few months ago. Diane thinks it’s time for another one.

Now I must stop and help search for the lost “suck it” bag. That’s the one you can put a duvet in and suck all the air out with a vacuum cleaner to make it take up less space. Neither of us have any idea where that bag went, however.

Plus, not having a clear definition of what status lower ranking visiting relatives have, in the way of special treatment, we have to stick to the current norm and put clean sheets on all the beds, paint a room or two, and power wash all the sidewalks. That must all be done today, if it’s going to get done, because they are arriving tomorrow.

Later …

My Angiogram

Posted on June 11, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

This morning Diane’s alarm went off at 0400, alerting us that only one hour remained before we had to leave for Good Samaritan Hospital in Portland. Me, being more level-headed, and forbidden from ingesting protein in order to survive the day, had my alarm set for 0430. Had I slept in my clothes last night, and slept in the car, I would not have needed an alarm at all. But, I was forced to sleep in the bed which means it was necessary for me to clothe myself in attire suitable for a public appearance in spite of the early hour. I only needed about 3 minutes to do that, but got up before my alarm activated, spewing annoying church bells into my sleepy ears. That would have been just terrible.

I got up, stuffed myself into some dirty jeans, clean shirt, clean socks, and the sneakers I wore home from Idaho. Also, though I didn’t need them, Diane insisted that I wear underwear. Clean ones. So, I did. I also fixed a bag of ‘things’ in case I had to stay the night after my angiogram procedure.

Diane got us safely to the hospital in plenty of time, but had to toss me out in front while she went the park the Buick. I was the only patient in the place so got attention right away from the nice lady at the desk. She asked my name and birthday while I extracted all the photo ID’s and medical cards from my wallet. Being a good American, I have 4 photo ID’s and two medical cards so I was well prepared. I was disappointed that she didn’t look at any of them. Anyone who knew my name and birthday could have kidnapped me and hi-jacked my angiogram with no problem. I don’t know about you, but I think hospital security is severely lacking and there should be armed guards at all points of egress to ensure this doesn’t happen in the future. Metal detectors should also be installed to keep doctors from trying to sneak their homemade surgical tools into the facility. It is my misinformed understanding that there’s a black market for items like this where doctors trade homemade wears at tables outside all the operating theaters. It’s an unsubstantiated activity to which hospital administrators turn a blind eye because for them it’s money in their pockets since they don’t have to restock the shelves themselves. I haven’t heard that it’s true, but think administrators have an underground network of garage labs that sharpen and shine used tools to augment these black market activities.

After being semi-adequately identified at the check-in counter, and receiving my critical arm band that substantiated my identity, I sat in the hospital lobby for about 17-38 minutes before a nice lady showed up with a wheelchair to take me upstairs. She had some paperwork and confirmed that my armband was correct before releasing the brakes and heading for the elevator.

On the second floor I was wheeled into a large room full of hospital beds situated in such a manner that each of them could be completely shielded for privacy by curtains hung from the ceiling by chains, just liken an emergency room. Unlike an emergency room, however, I was immediately placed into the care of Mary, my prep nurse, who pointed out the festive backless dress laying on my assigned bed and suggested that I shuck my street wear and insert myself into the garment. Instead of the standard blue design, mine was brown. My favorite color. Then she pulled the curtains around my bed and left me alone for a few minutes.

Alone, I removed my shoes, jeans, shirt and socks then my lovely bride stepped in and helped fasten the gown since I’ve not had a lot of experience tying knots behind my back. The clothing was placed into a large plastic bag that was spread over the top of my dress. It was placed under my bed as I attempted to climb onto the bed as directed. Before that happened, however, Diane had conducted a really quick inventory of the bag containing my clothes and said, “give me your underwear.” Reluctantly, I dropped them to the floor, picked them up and handed them to my bride. I’m sure I detected a smirk as she took them.

Mary returned with a tray of equipment, sat down next to the bed, then proceeded to put me at ease while she prepped me for an IV in my right hand. First, she gave me a tiny, barely felt poke with a numbing agent, waiting about 10 seconds, talking the entire time, then inserted the IV without me even knowing. It was truly amazing. The best IV I’ve ever had in my entire life. Really! It was amazing!

After the IV was in place, and taped down, Mary turned to the computer terminal assigned to my bed, and put me at ease by asking me a whole boat-load of personal questions which I answered, and elaborated on in great detail. When the quiz was completed, we had a very nice chat while she shaved off half the pubic hair above my right testicle. That’s my right, as I look down … your left if you were looking at me. It was an unexpected treat with an electric razor that caused the curly little pubes to fly all over the place. To remove the pubic debris, Mary wrapped a piece of duct tape around her right hand, sticky side out, and patted the area as if she was removing lint from her favorite pair of dress slacks. Though I didn’t look, I’m sure she got it all.

Then she gave me a Valium and told me the names of the four nurses and doctors into whose care I would shortly be placed. Sadly, I can’t remember them. I just know that I was left alone, with Diane, for about 40 minutes, during which time I napped. Then, one of the Angiogram Crew appeared, unlocked the wheels on my bed and away we went down the hallway.

The AR (angiogram room) was pretty impressive. I was wheeled next to the table where all the action was to take place. I know that’s true because that’s what the crew told me.

Once aligned with the stationary bed, I was helped off the mobile bed and placed into the necessary position defined by the operating crew. It was actually the same position I had attained on the mobile bed so it wasn’t difficult for me. I even made sure my dress was draped over each side of the table. This served two purposes … one, there were very warm blankies on the table, and two, it gave easy access for whatever the crew wanted to do. I was nearing the point where I didn’t really care what that might be.

Next to the table was an enormous television set that was displaying about six different views. I figured one of the areas of the screen was devoted to some cooking show, but I could be wrong. It may have been ESPN.

The Shawn-ster, according to the support crew for Dr. Patrick, would be there shortly but that didn’t happen until after Linda, I think, added some sleepy juice to my IV. Consequently, I don’t remember anything else until I woke up back in my mobile bed in the prep/recovery room with Mary and Diane by my side. Apparently I had a long talk with Dr. Patrick right after the procedure but that didn’t work out because he told Diane that he knew I wouldn’t remember it because my eyes kept rolling back in my head. Thankfully, he had the same conversation with Diane so the story was preserved and shared with me when I was awake enough to comprehend the English language.

The fact that I was back in prep/recovery meant nothing significant happened during the procedure. Diane said Dr. Patrick told her that all the arteries and veins around my heat are “pristine”. I had to look that up but instinctively knew it was a good thing. He didn’t find anything wrong and said I have the heart of a 9-year-old. Maybe he didn’t say that. Maybe it was Diane saying I acted like a 9-year-old. I disagree, of course. I think I act much older, like at least 17. Yes, easily 17.

When I was finally released, they rolled me to the front of hospital and helped insert me into the Buick then Diane drove me home where she cooked me a lovely lunch of fried eggs, oven fried hash brown patties, toast, coffee, milk and orange juice. And my pills.

Then I napped most of the afternoon and she fed me hotdogs and chile for dinner. Then we watched about 5 episodes of “Major Crimes”, one of our new favorite shows.

Now I must rest some more Diane insists. She almost won’t let me up to go to the bathroom but I warned her about the alternative of remaining in my chair. She’s being very stern with me about no doing much. There’s a clear adhesive over my incision so that we can judge whether or not it’s bleeding. I don’t know what they plugged my femoral artery with but it’s apparently working. Tomorrow Diane has to change the bandage so we will get to see the wound. I took a picture of it today, but Diane threatened me with divorce if I published it. So, I’ll have to shelve it for 7 years when the statute of limitations expires.

Sunday in Nampa

Posted on June 8, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

Today, our last full day here in Nampa, was all about family. Everyone except Tyler, that is. He wasn’t in town because when he learned we were going to be her, he left. That’s not true, of course. He didn’t know we were going to be here so I think he’s living on the assumption that it was just pure luck that he left before we arrived. That could be true.

First thing this morning we had a light breakfast here in the hotel, then we met the rest of the local family at the First Christian Church in town. We chose to attend the 0900 early service which meant we were not allowed to sleep in like normal. That was just fine. On arrival we met Jim & Donna’s friends that we remember from past visits, so it was like old home week, in a way.

The service was great and we enjoyed it a lot. Everyone was happy, the band was good, the Rev. Dr. J. Stephen Perotti gave a great sermon, and I got to hold Jim’s hand. The only down side was I didn’t get to meet Grace. I think Jim alerted her we were in town so she chose to stay home. Either that, or she went to the late service. Whatever the reason, I regret that missed opportunity. I was prepared to autograph her T-shirt, and everything.

After church we retired to J&D’s home where everyone, except me, made a crucial decision about where to eat lunch. The Blue Sky Cafe won. I wasn’t involved in the process because I seriously do not care where I eat. That drives Diane nuts because I won’t tell her. So, every time she asks, I tell her Burger King, or McDonald’s. We always eat at better places because Diane’s OK with those for an impromptu snack, but not for a real meal. Still, she asks me where we should go. Maybe I’ll fool her and suggest someplace really nice the next time she asks. I think I’ll tell her I want to go to Killion’s. The fact that it’s in Ontario won’t be a determining factor. Or, maybe Giovanni’s Shrimp Truck on Oahu. That looks good. North Shore, too.

Lunch at the Blue Sky was awesome. I had breakfast. We all totally enjoyed our meal and had the pea sure of sharing a large table right in the middle of the restaurant, where we had to be on our best behavior because everyone was watching us. They knew we were from out of town and were waiting for any little reason to run us out of town. That’s the way they are in Nampa. Honest. Most of the time. Well, maybe just some of the time. No, they’re never that way. We always feel welcome when we visit, no matter where we go in town. I can say that because when we visit we’re always escorted to various places around town. It’s either an escort, or a guard. Not sure which. Anyway, we enjoy our visits.

After lunch we once again retired to J&D’s home where we pondered all of the dessert choices available in this small farming community. One of the choices was a milkshake at McDonald’s, or maybe a candy bar from Wal*Mart, but we finally settled on a frozen yogurt joint in town. I can’t remember the name and can’t find it on the internet, but it was one of those Yo Something places. It was all good, very similar to the help yourself yogurt places in Scappoose and St. Helens.

Here’s what we looked like after eating about $40 worth of frozen yogurt.

Back row l to r: Maryssa, Daniel, Donna, Bob, and Steffani
Front row l to r: Wynette, Jack, Jim, Diane, and Me

Now it’s 2015 and we’re all back in our rooms for the night, planning to get a good night of sleep in preparation for our trip home tomorrow. Since all I have to do is dump one drawer of “stuff” back into my carry-on suitcase, it will be a simple task for me.

Now I’m going to cut my toenails and start studying for my angiogram test on Wednesday.

Yard Work, Food, Liquid Nitrogen, & Softball

Posted on May 29, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

Greetings and solutions to you all, wherever you may be this glorious day. It’s glorious, for me at least, because I was able to attain a vertical position this morning, and walk to the bathroom without having to shuffle my feet. And, my depends was dry as a bone! Mornings don’t get much better than that. Actually, I don’t wear depends, yet.

Over the past 4 days I’ve been pretty busy clawing crab grass from the ground around the tree I decapitated next to the garage. The tree has multiple stumps jutting into the air that display the potential of being a prime location for a bird condo. The truth of that has yet to be formalized into an action plan because none of the local builders have returned my calls. I can only surmise that none of them like birds, or they have no interest in participating in a plan to build a bunch of little condos that might only require half a piece of 1/4 inch plywood and some scrap wood for trim. Maybe a little paint, too.

Here’s what’s left of the tree …

Can’t you see an array of little bird houses perched atop the stumps, at various levels? Sure, it wouldn’t be practical because it’s too accessible for the cat, but still … It would be a good exercise and might make someone’s Pintrest page. Who knows? Maybe there’s even an example out there somewhere, but I’m not going to look.

Here’s some of the debris I removed from around the tree … there’s a sidewalk under there …

To obtain all of this required that I deconstruct the home of a herd of rats that apparently call this area home. They had tunnels running all over the place, especially around and under all the tree roots. Fortunately, they weren’t home while this was going on. From the looks of the place, they left in a hurry at some time in the past because there was food on their little tables. It was all dried up, though, so it’s been there a while. I suspect that Breezie, the pushy cat, had something to do with their desire to relocate. Her, and all the other cats that make their way to the back porch area to get a free meal we put out for them every day.

Speaking of meals, here’s one I had a few days ago …

It was quite good.

Last Monday, as I’m sure you are all aware, was Memorial Day. I was up at the crack of dawn to help our Lions club put out flags, like we do every holiday. Then I had a reasonably priced breakfast sandwich at Sunshine Pizza. Bob Krenz rode with me as we did our share of the flags and we were done first so we got back to breakfast in record time. Bob is a WWII vet who served in Europe. One of those Purple Heart guys. We had a great time putting out the flags, then picking them up again in the afternoon.

All my free time right up to this point in time was used to play in the dirt, removing grass. All by hand, I might add. On my little hands and knees. Additionally, with the exception of a few morning hours, that’s ALL I did on Tuesday, between rain showers. Yesterday was especially festive because thunderstorms passed through and dropped tons of hail on me as I worked. I stayed dry, however, because I was wearing a heavy-duty rubber rain coat with a hood. Oddly, it’s easiest to pull grass and weeds right after, or during a rainstorm because the dirt isn’t so clingy. I was wearing kneepads, too, so my jeans didn’t get all muddy. It was a real mess out there for a while, but I stuck to it. Diane was working at prepping food for today’s Community Meals event while I was playing in the rain and instinctively knew I was out in it. The only part she got wrong was the cowboy hat. It’s great in the rain because it’s wide brim keeps water from running down my neck, but I didn’t wear it because I needed the rest of my body to remain reasonably dry so I wouldn’t catch pneumonia. That would make Diane a bit cranky, I’m afraid.

The missing morning hours on Tuesday were spent with a trip to see my new dermatologist in Portland. I go see these specialists once in a while because I just love the way liquid nitrogen feels on my tender skin. This one didn’t disappoint, either. He checked me all over and burned off maybe 15 spots on my face, ears, and neck. Thank God the spot on my scrotum was deemed to be insignificant. I’d’ve had a stomach ache for sure had he attacked that one.

We can right back home after the doctor visit so I could get busy in the dirt. Diane insisted, even though my once pretty face was all spotted up and felt like it had been lashed with a fistful of stinging nettles. The dirt was a good diversion.

I got to quit early yesterday afternoon because the St. Helens High School softball team played their first bracket game for the Oregon State OSAA Championship. Out of 16 teams they ranked #8 and played #9, Marist. St. Helens was the home team, but because of the rain, the game was moved to the Hillsboro Stadium complex. We went because Lydia was moved up from the JV team to play with varsity. She wasn’t expected to play, and she didn’t, but she was smiling the entire game. Had one of the outfielders been unable to play, she was there. Jennie and Cedric rode with us to the game so we got to visit. Cedric, I’m sure, went along for the ride because he knew there were going to be lots of girls at the game. He wasn’t disappointed.

Here they are all lined up on the 3rd base line for the national anthem. Lydia is in the middle somewhere …

… and here she is, #25, warming up between innings …

Officially, Lydia is the only freshman playing with varsity during the state playoffs. Abby, the other freshman selected, fell and tore all the ligaments in her wrist so won’t be playing anything for quite a while.

The game was pretty tight for the first few innings, a display of defensive excellence on both teams. By the 5th inning it was only 2-1 for St. Helens, then our girls figured out the incredibly effective change-up thrown by the Marist pitcher. She had our girls swinging away before the ball was 3/4 the way to the plate. Pretty frustrating. Bunting proved to be a crucial aspect of success, and our girls did it to perfection. Still, they had trouble advancing runners beyond 3rd base with the exception of the two runs.

Then came the 5th. Marist was shut down quickly in the top of the inning, then our girls came to bat. They bunted, hit, and walked the bases full with 1 out. The next girl popped up, for 2 outs. Then the hero came to the plate and hit a line drive double down the right field line. The right fielder let it get passed her allowing the runner to get to third, clearing the bases for a 5-1 lead. It was pretty awesome, and that’s the way the game ended.

Now they must play Sandy, the #1 seed, tomorrow. It would be nice if the game was also in Hillsboro, but that’s not a guarantee, just an option. That decision won’t be made until tomorrow. Two more wins and St. Helens plays for the trophy. What fun!

Going back a ways, here’s a photo of when we were placing flags on Veteran’s graves at Bethany Cemetery last Saturday …

That’s Roger (Army), Beth, Bill (Marine), and Doug (Army). Beth is the organizer who has all the cemetery maps and makes sure we know what we’re doing.

Today I’ve decided to stay clean just as long as I can because I will be helping at Community Meals this evening. Diane left at 1000 to get things organized for the evening meal. I’ll go later to eat and help clean the place up.

Now it’s noon, and I’m going to follow Panzee’s lead and take a nap. Seems like the right thing to do.

70, Family, Friends, Music, & Tall Grass

Posted on May 21, 2014 by Jerrie Cate

Today is my 70th birthday which means tomorrow I embark on my 8th decade of existence on planet Earth. I’m not yet sure how long I’ve really existed, however, because I have no empirical evidence that I did. Just “things” in my head that surely must be triggered by ancient memories about which I know nothing. Some I’ve shared. Some I can’t because I can’t format my limited words into a coherent statement well enough to describe some of the things I see when I close my eyes. Every time I do that I am treated to proof, to me, that thought is faster than a neutrino. As everyone knows, neutrinos were measured to travel faster than the speed of light, a speed that Einstein’s theory of relativity showed to be an absolute value. Nothing could travel faster. It was a speed limit of sorts. Now it’s been broken. But, the speed of thought can transport me millions of light years away in the blink of an eye.

Sorry about that. I kind of got sidetracked by a documentary I watched while checking this out.

Now, on to more important things like what I did today … first, however, I want to thank everyone who took the time to remember me today. I didn’t know I had so many friends, and family members older than me who could type. You all made me feel very special today. Thank you all!

Doug called me yesterday and suggested I join him and JP for another classic round of golf at the St. Helens Golf Course today at 0930. I said “yes” and told Diane who heartily agreed that I should go and enjoy the day. Besides, she’s working on the election counting board at the court-house today and probably won’t be home until some time Wednesday morning. So, I was released into the wild, free of supervision for an entire day.

At 0915 I headed for the golf course, arriving about 0925. It’s not very far away. Maybe 4 miles on back roads. We sat in the parking lot waiting for someone to arrive to give us a cart because we can’t make it around the course on foot like we used to. That person didn’t arrive until 1000, and the key to the golf cart barn wasn’t discovered until about 1030. By then the sun had risen that extra hour, causing us to be uncomfortably warm. Still, away we went.

It was fun, and we had a great visit. Since it was my birthday, I wasn’t allowed to spend money so my round, and share of the cart, were free for me. What a treat. Then we went to lunch at Fultano’s in Scappoose, something that’s verging on becoming a traditional stop after golf.

Before going to Scappoose, however, I had to back track to home and get some keys that I needed to deliver to the church. Coming in the back way, as I turned down N. Vernonia Road, I saw Diane heading down the street ahead of me as she had just pulled out from our street. I waved, but I’m sure she didn’t see me as I turned toward home.

Since Diane had just left the house, the dogs weren’t the least bit impressed that someone opened the garage door. They couldn’t have cared less, in fact. They didn’t make a peep. I gathered the keys I needed and headed off to church, dropped the keys, then went directly to Fultano’s where I found Doug and JP sitting outside, in the hot sun, waiting for me. I figured they would be inside, but they chose to make me feel really bad for the delay by sitting out there dripping sweat everywhere.

We had the meal and Doug made me feel worse, in a way, because he insisted on paying for my lunch. I didn’t think that was fair since he and JP had paid for golf, but apparently I wasn’t convincing enough and I didn’t want to get into a shouting match with my friends. So, I graciously accepted the gesture knowing that at some point in the future I’ll have a chance to reciprocate.

From lunch I went directly to the DMV to get my new driver’s license. I needed to do that so I can drive tomorrow because my old one expired today. That means, theoretically, if I went some place at 2359 this evening my license would expire at 0000 and I would no longer be able to drive. I’m not sure how that works, like if my arms would just freeze up causing me to miss a corner, or if the vehicle I was in would stop working. Not wanting to tempt fate, I thought it would be best to just get it done.

I walked into the DMV, took my number, and was immediately called to the counter. It was amazing! Normally I have to wait at least an hour or so to be called, but I got right in. The fact that I was the only customer in the place may have had something to do with that, but it was still a treat. Traditionally, the DMV is always crowded.

As soon as I got to the counter, and started laying out the paperwork necessary for my new license, and my new disabled pass, I realized I was missing a crucial piece of ID. My passport. Either that, or a birth certificate was necessary to prove I’m a real citizen and worthy of getting my license renewed. I was given a little stamped piece of paper and sent off to get the passport.

When I returned the parking lot was full and I knew I was doomed to a long wait. However, I learned the little piece of paper was a special front of the line pass and again was beckoned directly to the counter upon entering the office. Another treat for my birthday. Additionally, I was served by a fellow retired Chief Petty Officer named John, who just happens to be Diane’s cousin. That’s handy. We have things in common.

John checked my eyes to make sure they worked, took my picture without specs so the NSA’s facial recognition will be able to detect me if I’m ever kidnapped, or rob a bank, gave me my documents, and sent me on my way. It was about the best ever visit I’ve had to the DMV.

From there I went directly home where I checked the bag I found on the front porch during my previous visit because I didn’t have time to check it then. It contained two pints of grape jelly from our friend Jeannie E who made the jelly from the grapes she harvested from our vines. I’m looking forward to my next PB&J with a strange new desire because of this. Maybe I’ll have one for breakfast.

Yesterday I got a birthday card in the mail from Susan who lives in Connecticut. She’s my Sister-In-Law Ruth’s granddaughter so suspect she some sort of niece of mine. I figure that’s true because she, and her siblings, as well as Sarah, call me Uncle Jerrie. They call Diane Aunt Diane, too, just to reinforce my belief. I also got cards in the mail from PGE and my insurance company. I liked Susan’s the best. I got many other cards, too, but they weren’t delivered in the mail and I really liked them, too.

I sat down on in my recliner for about an hour waiting for Jennie, Cedric, Lydia, & Jeran to arrive with dinner. I was told to do nothing, so I didn’t. They arrived with spaghetti (my favorite), french bread (my favorite) and a tray of cucumber, carrot, and radish (my favorite) slices. We had a terrific dinner and had time to visit a bit before it was made known that they had also arrived with a festive bag for me.

In the bag were cards from the kids, and from Jennie. Both had buttons which I will wear with pride. I’ll take a picture when I do so you can see them. The children’s button says I’m the “#1 Grandpa”. Jennie’s reports that “My Daughter is #1”, which she truly is. I also got a crafty picture frame and a unique rendition of a family tree which Jennie started with her thumbprint in green for leaves. It came with red paint so all the grandchildren can add their thumbprints as fruit. Very cool and especially excellent because it’s home-made.

After the gifts were given, Jennie, Cedric, and Jeran left because Jeran had to be at the high school to participate in his final choral recital of the year. He had to be there by 1830 for the 1900 show. Lydia stayed with me because she had some home work to do and it wasn’t time for us to go yet.

Then Jeff, Heather, Gilligan, Baylee, and Jerrie showed up to round out the day of special events. The girls are such a joy and I love them very much. I love their Mom and Dad very much, too. I was given a tie-dyed T-shirt, that they helped create, proclaiming me to be a “The World’s Best Grandpa, Hands Down”. Then all three girls were given a color of paint which they used to apply their hand prints to the front of the shirt. Since Lydia was here, she got to add hers, too. I will get Cedric’s & Jeran’s the next time they are here. It’s very awesome.

After the visit Lydia and I headed for the high school for the recital. We were a bit late, and the parking lot was more than full, so I parked illegally in a loading zone. It was OK. I was next to someone else who had parked there first. There wasn’t going to be any loading during the recital.

We got inside just as the acapella choir was finishing their opening bit. It was dark, and we couldn’t see right away, so couldn’t find the seats that were being saved for us. Lydia’s eyes adjusted quickest and she led me in. Though I stepped on the toes of a few strangers, no one complained because they just didn’t care.

The recital is put on by choral groups from 7th through 12th grades so there are a lot of kids involved. Jeran is finishing up 8th grade this year so we hadn’t missed him as his class came on as the third group. All the kids were sitting in the front rows of the auditorium and when Jeran’s class stood up to go on stage he was immediately prominent as one of the tallest. They did awesome, as did all the other groups and grades. One advanced group performed a piece that lasted about 15 minutes. It was an incredible amount of words and melodies to remember but they did it perfectly.

For the finale, some of the kids went on stage to the risers, others lined the sides of the auditorium, and the remainder stood and faced the audience as they all sang an incredibly beautiful rendition of “Hallelujah“. Whenever I hear the song I get totally mesmerized by the melody and have never really listened to the lyrics. I have to admit that they don’t seem to fit with the beauty of the melody, but the combination, to me, is very beautiful to hear, especially in 4-part harmony by such a large group. Had I been the least bit aware, and used only a tiny bit of my little used brain,
I would have taken a video of the performance, but all I have is one photo.

Jeran is the tallest one, center, of the row facing the audience. He did a great job. All the kids did a great job and I loved all 2 hours of it.

Now, just for fun, here are some photos of the brownie cake Jennie made, that I didn’t mention …

Brownie Birthday Cakes are awesome!

The cake Nelda made for me last week …The 3-Jerry Group …

Tom swinging in the breeze …

… and a little chronological sequence of the grass battle at the church …

First is from May 10th when Howard jumped in to save me from having to flattened all this with a weed whacker …

Then I used the church mower to chop it down some more, and scatter the grass so it would dry …

… and raked it into piles to load into the truck. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but it was brutal.
The next effort will be to load and move the grass using a real pitchfork, then mow and vacuum before it has a chance to grow any more. I’m taking my mower out there to help with that.