A GUEST BLOGGER

I have been asked for space for a guest blogger today.  She is my beloved SWMBO.  She Who Must Be Obeyed, for those of you who don't know.

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A Suitable Dungeon

     More than thirty years ago I found myself in the terrible position of deciding my mother's future.  She had had a couple of "minor" strokes and my father had recently passed away.

   It wasn't safe any longer for her to live alone in their retirement house in Florida.  She left stove burners on and forgot them.  She stumbled frequently and almost fell.

   I was summoned from across the country to "come and help me deal with Mother."  My sister had moved near our parents when they retired to Florida.  But she was still working and "the mother situation" had become critical.  It was obvious that we had to deal with the problem quickly and I was required to be there.

   We started looking at potential "retirement centers" . . really nursing homes.  Upon returning to her house the first day we found Mother sitting on the edge of her bed.  She looked up and gave us an evil look and said, "Well, did you find a suitable dungeon for me today?"

   We were spent from the mental and physical effort of the day.  Both of us plopped on the bed beside our mother and one of us said,  "No, not today, Mother," and we laughed rather hysterically.  Mother looked at both of us and couldn't see the humor in the situation.

   The next day we heard of a brand new retirement center that was opening in three weeks.  We took the tour and instantly decided it was perfect.

   Mother had been a gardener and bird watcher all her life.  We told her of the beautiful gardens all around the place.  She inquired as to whether she could take her bird bath with her and put it in one of the gardens.  We said we would see if that could happen.

   We scheduled a visit for the three of us to do a walk-through of a possible apartment for Mother.  It was on the third floor.  She liked the sparkling newness of it all and that she could take her own furniture and personal things.  We walked out on her private balcony and looked around.  One of us mentioned that the bird bath would like nice down below in the garden.

   Mother looked around for a minute and said, "That bird bath would be so far away I wouldn't know if they were drinking or shitting!"  Then she stomped away.  My sister and I looked at each other and knew we had work to do.

   Over the next few days we lobbied for the place by pointing out the amenities.  "You can have your own little refrigerator and microwave and coffee maker.  You won't have to cook major meals.  They will be served to you in the dining room."

   "I won't know any of those people," she snarled.

   "But you can get to know them."

   "Why should I?  None of my friends will know where I have gone.  Nobody will ever visit me." 

   She had really been a loner, almost anti-social and suddenly she worried that the few friends she had would never visit her.  She worried that no one would speak to her at the dinner table.  It was rather ridiculous that one of the best-read, most informed persons in the area was worried that there would be nothing in common with these people.

   But slowly she started to look semi-kindly on the new place.  It was very different from anything she'd ever known.  The move proceeded.

   There was a terrible wrangle over her learning to use an electric coffee maker rather than perking her coffee on the stove.  "I know good coffee and I know bad coffee and this stuff is bad."

   One morning as we sipped our "bad coffee" in the new living room a movement outside the picture window attracted my attention.  A giant Blue Heron was leaning down to drink from the bird bath in the front yard.  He was so casual about it.  My heart was pounding as I whispered to my mother, "Look, oh look at that!"

   She said, "Oh yes, he stops by a few mornings a week for a drink."

   Mother adjusted quickly and was quite satisified with her new home for the rest of her time.

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   My daughter and I have lunch together often on Fridays.  Last week she handed me a brochure for a new retirement center in town that is holding an open house for the public in a week or two.  She asked if I'd be interested in going and looking it over.  I said I'd like that. 

   When I came home and handed the brochure to my husband, he asked "Has she found a suitable dungeon for us?"

--by Judith Taylor

BLACK AND WHITE

No mail today.  The bank was closed this morning.  Must be some kind of holiday. 

Here's a picture I took of a house through the trees back in the 1960's.  I've become a better photographer since then.

The best speaker I ever heard in person was Martin Luther King Jr.  It was some time around when this picture was taken.  Within a year or so.  I was attending a convention of the Radio and Television News Directors' Association in Chicago.  The luncheon speaker was the former President of the United States, Dwight D. Eisenhower.  He wasn't very good.  Stumbled through his speech poorly.

After a break Dr. King was introduced.  I think I was sitting in a front row, just a few feet from him.  After first apologizing because he had forgotten his notes back in his hotel he then spoke, sans notes, for 30 to 45 minutes.  No "ums", no "ahs", no hesitation.  Just a truly gifted speaker and a great speech.

We miss him today.

Another visitor

It's been in the lower 50's today but the wind has been blowing all day and it's overcast and it just looks cold out there.  Which may have prompted a visit from a local denizen.

He did turn around when I tapped on the glass but I was shooting through a screen and the picture didn't come out well enough to show you.  Suffice it to say he has beautiful amber eyes.

WATSON LAKE

I took this picture at the Watson Lake overlook recently.  But I'm darned if I can think of anything to say about it.  So.  It's all yours.

Weather

I can't remember where it came from but when I was a kid in North Dakota there was a jingle I used to hear on the radio:

 "Whether it's cold

   or whether it's hot,

   we're gonna have weather,

   whether or not."

The weather here today is pretty decent.  Temperature in the 50's, sun shining, blue skies.  Not bad for a winter day in January.



But other spots in the country aren't so nice.  My buddy, Tom, of Light Breezes, and his friend Mike left their homes in the sun in Central California yesterday morning.  Their flight out of San Luis Obispo was delayed because of fog.  When they got to Phoenix they had missed their connecting flight and spent nearly 12 hours sitting around the airport.  Finally they boarded another jet and landed in Indianapolis at 1 o'clock in the morning.  As Tom reports on his blog, roads were snow and ice covered.  Today's high temperature there was supposed to be about 19 degrees as the snow continued to fall.

So, Tom, wise old peripatetic pal, here's something to remind you of how it is back home.

(Just to rub it in, I swiped a photo Tom took and posted on his web site just a week ago!)

REPUBLICAN DOGS

I've been thinkin'.  My dad used to say that.  When he did, SWMBO'S eyes would roll because she knew something weird was about to come out of his mouth.  So.  I'm his son.  And . . I've been thinkin'.

I am constantly amazed at the things that come out of Weird Old Ron Paul's mouth and the ideas that come out of his head.  Tonight, SWMBO and I came up with it.  Crazy Ross Perot.  They're both from Texas.  Their names have the same initials.  And their ideas are equally bull-goose-looney.  Weird Old Ron Paul sounds like a reincarnation of another guy who never could get elected president - William Jennings Bryan.  Except Weird Old Ron Paul supports returning us to the Gold Standard and Bryan wanted us to live on Free Silver.

Now then, let's get to the subject of dogs.  As you regular readers know, I'm a cat man.  But I have observed dogs and I believe I know them as well as the next man.  So . . hypothetically . . whereas Crazy Ross Perot most resembles a miniature Dachsund . . yap, yap, yap . . Weird Old Ron Paul is more like a Doberman Pinscher.  I mean let's face it . . he is about 6 foot 13, isn't he?  But compare the voices of Weird Old Ron Paul and Crazy Ross Perot.  Pretty similar, aren't they.  Yap, yap, yap.

Now to the rest of the field, if we can even honor them that way.  Jon Huntsman, the elegant but hopeless moderate in the race: a Weimaraner.  Grey as the ghost he shall soon be.

Newt Gingrich - (the fat little spider) - is either a Welsh Terrier or an English Bulldog.  Barking away, running in circles, but hopelessly hopeless.  Nasty little creature.

Rick Santorum - a Bloodhound.  Nose to the trail, trudging along, but his eyes give away his hopes.  Which are none.

Rick Perry - Oh, we do love to make fun of this Son of the Alamo, don't we?  I think he's a Boxer, throwing punches right and left but not hitting anything.  A loud bark but not much bite.  After all, he's confused about what he's supposed to be doing, in spite of his proud appearance.

And then there's Mitt Romney, the leader, the eventual nominee, the sacrificial lamb.  With his pedigree he can be nothing less than the Borzoi.  Beautiful to look at but not much else.  He will succeed in winning the nomination of a party that will be singing . . "the party's over."

Arf.  Bow wow. Grrr.  Snarl.  Goodbye G.O.P. hounds of hell.

THE GOOD OLD DAYS

Every once in awhile I start thinking about days gone by.  My pal, Tom Cochrun who writes the blog Light Breezes and I worked together for a few years back in the late 60's/early 70's.  Here's how Tom looked when I first met him at WIBC Radio in Indianapolis.

Sort of looks like a Latin salsa musician, doesn't he?

Okay, just to make it up to him, here's how I looked in the previous year.

This was taken in Miami Beach at the 1968 Republican National Convention.  I don't remember who the guy on the left was but he has a look on his face as if he's thinking "Oh, god, here I am covering an important political convention and I have my picture taken with this bozo in a Nehru jacket!"

Well, Tom and I covered a lot of politics in our days in broadcasting.  But this year's Republican primaries so far make me just a bit envious of the Chuck Todd's and the Jake Tapper's of today's news circus.  Seems to me like they're having way too much fun.  But then I remember the hours spent every day, the lack of sleep, the occasional hangovers, the lousy food, and I'm glad all I have to do is read about it in the newspapers and watch it on t.v.