There's a new kid in town.

My sweet precious little granddaughter, Josie is now a big sister!  Her new brother, Uriah Cole was born today.  She's no longer an only child.  I can't wait to visit and meet new baby brother! 

I wonder what it's like to have a sibling.  Josie now has someone that she is forever connected to in a way she is connected to no other.  They will share memories that will be just between the two of them.  They can joke about their parents and their childhood and all the memories that come from growing up together. 

I consider myself an only child.  I know that sounds strange to say I "consider" myself to be an only.  You either are or you aren't, right?  Well...kind of.  When someone asks me if I have any siblings, I hesitate with my answer.  If I'm looking for the short answer I will say no.  Let me explain.  My parents adopted a girl before I was born.  She was about 12 or 13 when I was born and left home when she turned 18.  To this day, I really have never heard the entire story or much about her.  My mother does not like to talk about it.  So she was really only around the first 5 or 6 years of my life.  I think I should have memories of her, but I don't.  Funny, but the only thing I remember clearly was her clothes in the dresser that was in our room.  So I was pretty much raised as an only child and I am an only biological child.  I grew up wondering how it would be if I had a brother or sister. 

Of course being an only child has advantages that I'm sure other kids dreamed about.  Always your own room.  No one trying to take your toys.  All the attention.  Everything is yours.  But on the other hand, there is no one to share stories with.  Someday when my parents are gone, there isn't anyone for me to talk about growing up with.  The memories are mine alone...just another thing that an only child has all to herself. 

So I am glad that Josie has a brother.  I hope and pray they make many good and fun memories together and will always be friends.  Welcome to the world, little boy. 

Closed Captioned for the Hearing Impaired

We (as in my kids and I) used to take great delight in the fact that my parents would watch PBS with the closed captioning turned on because they "can't understand all that British talk".  As the years went by, the closed captioning began to be on more often until it was just on all the time.  Not due to British  but due to lack of hearing.  Well, my time has come.  I use closed captioning quite a bit.  More than I care to admit.  And I'm not talking only for bonnet movies on PBS.  I just can't hear most of the dialogue anymore. 

This came in handy the other night to verify a line we heard while watching the John Wayne version of True Grit.  Robert Duvall's character, Ned Pepper, is holding a gun to Mattie Ross and yells, "I never busted a cap on a woman or anybody much under sixteen!"   Marty and I looked at each other and said...WHAT?...he just said bust a cap.  Now that's funny. 

I wondered...actually we both wondered about the origin of that phrase.  We thought it was a recent term from "gansta" culture.  Yes, I just said gansta...but besides that...I figured it made that phrase at least as old as the movie or book.   After doing a Google search on this, I find out a lot of people wondered the same thing after seeing that movie.  I suppose if you think about it you can figure it out for yourself...it refers to the old time firing of a gun which required a percussion cap to make the gun shoot.  I bet when the movie first came out, no one even paid any attention to that phrase.  Anyway, just wanted to share this with you because I thought it was pretty funny to hear (and read) a western cowboy outlaw say bust a cap just like a modern day gang member. 

I love Google...it really helps with the wondering.  Did I say that before?   Probably.  I feel like I am repeating stuff but...did I mention I love Google?  You can find an answer for any question.  It's up to you whether you believe it or not. 

Speaking of Robert Duvall...did you know his first movie role was Boo Radley in To Kill a Mockingbird.  "You can pet him, Mr. Arthur, he's asleep." 

And with that, I say, I should be asleep, too. Now I just hope I don't dream that Boo Radley is petting my head. 

Back in the USSR.

I've been working on a photo album for Marty with all his Navy pictures.  I actually made it for him for a gift several years ago and presented it unfinished.  I'm trying to finish it now.  I am currently putting in photos of Moscow.   There are quite a few pictures of a military parade.   Cold War military might at it's best.   Lots of tanks and missiles and such.  In one picture there is a soldier looking at the camera with a big grin on his face. 

I started to wonder what his life might have been like.   Russia in 1989.  The Soviet Union.  Nearing the end of the Cold War.  I think of Moscow as cold and gloomy.  I imagine living in one of those huge architecturally bland communist housing blocks.  The average sized 2 bedroom apartment in Moscow is 485 square feet.  I read a statistic that stated Russia has over 500,000 alcohol related deaths per year as compared to 75,000 in the US.  I don't really know how that works out percentage wise, but it's been a notorious problem in Russia throughout their history.  So I'm imagining a gloomy life for that smiling young soldier.  

I hope that it wasn't really as bad as I think.  The sun does also shine in Moscow.  People live and love and have families like the rest of the world.  Maybe his smile continued on for many years.  I only know that I am glad that I live in the United States and not in Russia. 

I like to look at photos and wonder.

There is no try.

I've been wondering why my back hurts so much.  Granted, I do sit in a chair all day in front of the computer...do you think that could be it?   Well, yes...but I've been feeling extremely uncomfortable in my office chair as of late.  Today I just couldn't stand it anymore.  I thought...this chair didn't bother me so much when I first got it, why is it so bad now?   I got up out of my seat and examined my chair.  Oops.  The adjustment that makes the seat back higher or lower had slipped and was too low so the lumbar support was in the wrong place.  How long had it been that way?   Months, probably. 

So I started thinking about how many things that I complain about or make me feel bad physically are partially or even completely self-inflicted.  My back hurt because I didn't adjust my chair properly.  My legs ache from sitting all day but if I exercise regularly, they feel better.  My stomach feels upset and I get heartburn but if I eat healthy food and cut out the junk, I feel fine.  I complain about things I need to get done but waste my spare time watching dumb stuff on TV.  I take a pill for high cholesterol because it's easier than changing my diet.  (I'm working on that one.) 

I used to be really confused when I would read in Romans 7 where Paul is talking about not doing what he knows he should be doing. I've always thought of that as the Yoda passage.  The word "do" is in there a lot.  In verses 15-21, I counted it 16 times.  But it's funny because where this used to confuse me, it suddenly makes perfect sense.  "For what I will to do, that I do not practice, but what I hate, that I do."   So Paul struggled with the same kinds of things.   I know what I need to do but I don't always do it.  "For what I will to do"...work on fun projects around the house..."that I do not practice,"...."but what I hate,".....sitting around watching TV...."that I do."   

It really seems so clear.   Now to make the change.   And I need to apply that to my spiritual life as well...as the passage was intended.   I'm pretty sure Paul wasn't talking about watching TV here.  Actually, I need to start with the spiritual and I bet the physical would get better as well. 

To sum it all up....Do, or do not.  There is no try.  

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Happy is as happy does.

I saw that Oprah was going to have a show about happiness.  I didn't watch it but it prompted me to wonder about what she might consider that to mean.  And to wonder what that means to me.  Or maybe what it should mean. 

Our culture would have us think that things and stuff will make us happy.  Maybe it does for a brief while but when that wears off it leaves us with discontent instead.  I think happiness really comes from choosing to be happy in whatever situation you may be in.  Of course, I realize that is not always an easy thing to do.  Sometimes it's a lot easier to just be miserable. 

I am reminded of a book Tom liked when he was little.  The title was Fortunately Unfortunately.  In the book things happened to a boy like...unfortunately, he fell out of the airplane.  Fortunately, he had a parachute.  Unfortunately, there was a hole in the parachute.  Fortunately, there was a haystack on the ground.  Unfortunately, there was a pitchfork in the haystack...and on it goes.  But it's kind of like that with happiness.  We can look at the fortunately side of things and be happy or dwell on the unfortunately and be sad.  Optimism or pessimism.  Contentment or discontent.  

Working from home makes me happy.  Having to work 40 hours a week doesn't.  Having a warm house makes me happy.  Cold and snow outside doesn't.  Losing 5 pounds makes me happy.  Not eating cookies every day doesn't.  My kids make me happy.  Them living so far away doesn't.  Josie makes me happy.  Not getting to hug her every day doesn't.  So I really think we can choose to look at our blessings and be happy with them.  I'm trying. 

Proverbs 16:20 says...And whoever trusts in the Lord, happy is he. 

Philippians 4:11 says...for I have learned in whatever state I am in, to be content. 

I want to choose to remember that and be happy with the blessings in my life.  I hope you will choose to be happy, too.     

I love technology, but not as much as you, you see.

I love pancit.  So I was glad that we went to a restaurant in Grove City that has Filipino food.  Not many places like that around here.  I had a nice chat with the owner and told her about our Filipina sister-in-law.  In the course of the conversation, she asked if our sister-in-law ever went home to the Philippines to visit.  We told her that she had been back a couple of times.  

This made me wonder what that must be like.  I have always lived pretty close to my parents and extended family.  If I want to "go home" for a visit, it's only 30 miles to Sharpsville.  It must be really hard to only get to visit your mom once every 5 years or so, if that.  Both of my kids live far, but at least it is still affordable and doesn't require a ridiculously long airplane trip.  Pretty long, but not ridiculously long.   

This makes me wonder about my grandmother and the other millions of immigrants like her.  How many of them came to America and never saw their parents again?   My grandmother came here to marry my grandfather without really knowing him.  I'm not sure if they had met previously or not.  She looks sad and forlorn in her wedding picture.  I can't decide if she looks more sad or scared.  She was probably both.  She came here on a boat with only what she could carry to marry someone she didn't know and live somewhere she knew nothing about.  She didn't know how to speak English.  She was only 18 years old and had to leave her home and parents.  Any communication with them would have been through letters.  No Skype.    And how many times was this same story was being played out by so many other women?   They really had to be strong.   It's no wonder that people from the same ethnic background settled together in communities to have that little sense of the old country.  To have others to relate to and talk to.  To have a little piece of home. 

And to go back even a bit farther in my wondering....imagine what it must have been like to leave your home in the pioneer days or for settlers like the Pilgrims.  They didn't even have much of a chance of contacting their families by letters.   If they were lucky enough to get a letter, it would be a long time in getting there.  You might leave your home and never ever know what happened to your parents and family and never ever see or talk to them again.  No photos, nothing.  People back then had to have a lot more guts and gumption than we do now.  I'm not much of a one for change.  I would probably have been one of the ones left back in the old country.  Which is OK I guess, someone had to stay there or Europe would be empty. 

So if I am tempted to complain too much about not being able to see Josie as often as I'd like...I need to remind myself that at least I do get to see her and that I can see photos online and print them instantly from my own computer.  And I can see her in real time on Skype.  And I can watch videos of her.  I am thankful that I live in the times that I do.  Sometimes I wish life was simpler and that my phone still had a cord and didn't come with me everywhere I go.  But most of the time, I'm glad I can send a photo of The Corral to my kids to make them jealous.  Modern technology does indeed make my connection to my family better than my grandmother's.  

I challenge you today to send a little love out to your family...email them a photo...just because you can. 

Aber Lincolnham

Today one of the reports I was coding noted that the patient was a "poor historian".  I know that means the patient is unable to answer questions about his medical condition for one reason or another.  And I don't mean to make light of that fact.  But I wondered what that might look like in another context.  I can't help what pops into my brain. 

I imagined the technologist with pen and requisition in hand, saying...What year was the Spanish Armada defeated?...patient-I don't know...tech-When did Christopher Columbus land in the New World?...patient-I don't know...tech-Who was the 16th president of the United States?...patient-I don't know...tech-My, my you really don't know much about history do you? as she jots down "poor historian" on the requisition. 

Maybe you have to work in the medical field to find that funny.  I keep a notebook with words and phrases that I have encountered on actual reports.  Here are a few:

Patient fell.  Speaking Greek.  Usually speaks English.
Patient returned for further violation of a subtle area of possible distortion in the right breast.
Swallowed a fly.
Hit right knee with hammer.  Now has pain. 
Belching and hip popping for two weeks.   
Manopause.
Unable to take out tongue.
90 year old female with pregnancy. 
Correlation with Mr. Cycle recommended.
The handmade and a piece of form.   (This was supposed to be the hamate and pisiform-bones in the wrist)
The right apex is not well seen due to overlying clavicle and the patient's physician.
Hammertoes deformity of the right 2nd and 12th possible third toes.  
The patient states Dr. polo knee has a lump in his chest.  
Hit center of chest with sofa while eating peanuts.  
Vomiting after eating for 2 months.  
The patient has a car on the left side of the face and head.
Otto accident.
According to nursing home patient became SOB.
Patient starts drinking at 9:20.
Restroom failure.  
Feeling woozy.  Having blur.
Diagnosis:  Fell on knees.   Accident place:  At church

This is just a highlight of my collection from the past 10 years or so.  I have pages of them.  Most of them are only funny to other medical people.  Like the funny x-ray school story that I told Marty the other day.  He looked at me expectantly like he was waiting for the punch line.  But there wasn't any more to the story.  I said I guess it's only funny to other x-ray techs.   

I hope you got a laugh or two out of reading this.  And I pray that you will always be a good historian and that if you ever need to go to the hospital the people you encounter are good historians, too.  I don't want to add your patient history to my list. 

And in case you were wondering...the 16th President of the United States was Aber Lincolnham.