Watching football with Mom

 

It was quite chilly this morning. We were in a freeze warning until 9 a.m. And while it has warmed up some, the breeze still makes it chilly. A good day to stay in and watch college football.

These days, I always think of Mom when watching college football. She loved watching football, which is, perhaps, where I got my love for the game. Although she enjoyed watching the Kansas City Chiefs, her real love was for college football.

She would be eating breakfast on a Saturday morning and ask, "Isn't there a game on?" We would watch football from morning to night.

So, I decided I would stay in and watch some football today.

I first watched the Sunflower Showdown, a matchup that has been around for more than 120 years. (For those who don't know, that is the K-State vs. KU game.) Since I didn't have a dog in that fight, I watched it for pure football enjoyment. It was a fun game to watch! And after the lead went back and forth, K-State ended up winning this year's Sunflower Showdown.

I next turned to the 'Bama-Tennessee game and again thought of Mom. Her father's side of the family came to Kansas from Tennessee. Because of that, she developed an affinity for Vols football. She had a bright orange Tennessee hoodie and a Vols t-shirt or two so she could make sure she was appropriately dressed for the games. 

Mom even sang along when the crowd sang Rocky Top. In her last few years, she had forgotten many of the words. Eventually she got to the point where I didn't think she would sing at all. But when the crowd got to the point in the song where they sang the words "Rocky Top Tennessee," Mom would join in loudly! She would have the biggest grin on her face and was so proud of herself that she was singing along.

I have to admit that I got a bit misty when the crowd first sang Rocky Top today, but I know that Mom is watching the game from a much better location than I. I'm sure she is happy that so far in the game, Tennessee is ahead. That makes me smile!

ADDENDUM: Tennessee upset higher-ranked 'Bama. At the end of the game, the band played Rocky Top. I know Mom was singing along and grinning proudly! 

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Enough, August!

While January is cold, dark, and bleak, I would take it any day over August. To say that August sucks is an understatement.

Growing up, I started school in August. And while I liked going to school, I did not enjoy the heat of the first few weeks. You see, I am old enough to have attended schools that were not air conditioned. We had windows wide open and big box fans shooting hot air around the room. The heat made the adults even more grumpy.

We probably were able to deal better with the heat back then because many of us did not have air conditioners at home and were, perhaps, more conditioned to the heat. Regardless, some days, the heat of August was bad.

So you're saying to yourself, "Come on, Leslie! You're whining about heat of August in Kansas?" No, I am grousing about the heat of August in Kansas, but there also are multiple other reasons to dislike August.

For instance, I found out today that someone I know has been diagnosed with cancer in multiple places. The diagnosis came while he was traveling. He has not yet been able to return to his home and is being treated, for the moment, far away. That whole situation sucks, August! 

Nonetheless, I will try to send positive vibes his way and pray that he recovers fully.

For me, August has been a time of personal loss as well. The two-year anniversary of my Mom passing is coming up next week. She had a brain bleed and was in a coma for about six days before she passed. (You can read about Mom here) I sat with her each day and talked to her, though she could not respond. The doctor said she couldn't hear me, but the nurses assured me she could. I told her about what was happening in the neighborhood and tried to keep my comments upbeat and positive. When one of the doctors told me she didn't have much longer, I made arrangements with the hospital staff to stay in her room with her. She passed peacefully and I went home to a house devoid of voices, but full of memories. Miss you, Mom.

Earlier this month, a good friend from college died. We had kept in touch over the years and up until a few weeks before she died, we had either chatted or shared memes in Facebook Messenger nearly every day. My friend was smart and well-educated. She had a caring heart and a delightful sense of humor. She was a great human being and I miss her terribly.

After my own health scares a couple of months after Mom passed, I made the decision to not get another dog. My little Jorgie had passed the year before Mom, the same year as Dad. I had toyed with the idea of getting another dog, but I didn't want to suddenly die of some dreaded disease and have the poor little dog think I had abandoned him. So I decided I would be happy with loving on other people's dogs.

I also started following a number of animals on Facebook, including Timothy the hippo from the San Antonio Zoo, his crush, Fiona, and the rest of the hippo bloat at the Cincinnati Zoo, Teddy the ornery golden retriever from South Carolina, Chuck the bearded dragon, and Charlie the golden retriever from Ohio. Their antics made me smile and prevented my Facebook news feed from becoming a suckhole of negativity. Sadly, since spring, several of the animals I looked forward to seeing have died, including Larry the Great Dane, Charlie the Golden's older housemate, Buddy, and Spike the head-bobbing bearded dragon friend of Mr. Crabs. 

This week, Jackie, the female bald eagle of Big Bear Eagle Nest Cam fame, died after several weeks of intensive care at the Ojai Raptor Center after she was found unable to fly. Jackie was a beautiful bald eagle and was fiercely protective of the nest and eaglets she shared with her mate, Shadow. Both she and Shadow were/are advocates in their own way for wildlife initiatives and because of them and the videos in which they starred, Friends of Big Bear Valley was able to raise the millions of dollars needed to buy land around the nesting site to protect the eagles and other wildlife in the area.

Watching the nest cam videos was both educational and a nice change of pace from all the crap that is happening in our country and the world. I don't know what will happen with Shadow now that Jackie is gone. Should Shadow find another mate, as he probably will, I hope people will be kind about it. That's how nature works. I hope the nest cam videos will continue.

So August, enough is enough! Let's have some happy news and events for a change. We sure need it!

Early blooming bush sparks memories of a long-time family tradition

There will be no Mother's Day photos in front of the blooming snowball bush this year.

Despite being somewhat gutted (by me) last summer after the tree guys cut out several larger-than-I-thought trees that had grown up in the bush, my snowball bush is now blooming profusely, weeks before the U.S. celebrates Mother's Day.

Additionally, there is no one left to carry on the long-time family tradition.

I was introduced to the Mother's Day family tradition when I was just a wee child. My paternal grandmother loved to garden and was quite proud of her beautiful snowball bush. More often than not, it was blooming just in time for Mother's Day.

We, of course, were already decked out in our Sunday finest. My Sunday finest included a dress, a fancy hat, and a small purse that matched my shiny patent leather shoes. We "ladies" all wore beautiful corsages as well. 

Grandma always insisted that we pose for photos in front of the snowball bush before we went to the restaurant for a nice Mother's Day meal. My Dad's side of the family was always big on photos. I had my first camera, a Kodak Brownie Holiday camera, when I was four.

For most of us, posing in front of the snowball bush on Mother's Day was somewhat of a family joke "We'd better go get the snowball pictures done so we can go eat. I'm hungry," one of my relatives said once. 

But we never let Grandma know how we felt about the photos. I guess it was part of her Mother's Day present from us.

The years went by and Grandma passed on and for a while, there were no Mother's Day photos in front of the snowball bush.

While I was living in Emporia, my folks moved from my childhood home to the house I live in now. And guess what? There was a beautiful snowball bush on the property! 

Some of the blooms on my snowball bush this
year. Photo © Leslie Eikleberry 2026

The first Mother's Day my folks lived in the house, we drug Mom outside for a Mother's Day photo in front of the blooming snowball bush. It was all in good fun and Mom, Dad, and I had a happy moment as we continued the family tradition.

Now Mom also has passed and the snowball bush is blooming early. And while I have been a mama to several four-legged furry kids, my dogs also are gone and I have no desire to pose in front of the snowball bush by myself. 

The family tradition may have ended, but I still have the memories!

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Watching Artemis II and remembering missions of the past

Being a child of the 1960s, I watched most of the Apollo launches and, of course, the Apollo 11 moon landing, all with narrative from Walter Cronkite. It was exciting, and I was in awe that people were "flying" into space!

Fast forward 55+ years, and here I was this evening watching the Artemis II launch to send the Integrity and four astronauts -- three from the US and one from Canada -- on a mission around the moon.

NASA’s Artemis II Space Launch System (SLS) rocket and Orion
 spacecraft are seen standing atop a mobile launcher at Launch
 Complex 39B on March 31, 2026,  at NASA’s Kennedy Space Center
 in Florida. NASA’s  Artemis II flight, which launched  April 1, 2026,
 is taking Commander Reid Wiseman, Pilot Victor Glover, and Mission
Specialist Christina Koch from NASA, and Mission Specialist Jeremy
Hansen from the CSA  (Canadian Space Agency), around the Moon
and back  to Earth. Photo Credit: (NASA/John Kraus)

In some ways, I felt like that giddy grade-schooler once again. But emotion really hit hard when the countdown got to T-minus 10 seconds, and to be honest, it caught me off guard. It felt like when the US flag is raised and the Star-Spangled Banner is played for US Olympic athletes. There was a sense of awe and a sense of pride, but also a bit of anxiety. 

Anxiety? Yes. I am old enough to also remember the Apollo 1 fire in 1967, the Challenger shuttle explosion in 1986, and the Columbia shuttle disintegration in 2003. 

Being an astronaut is a dangerous career. 

Now I know that there is danger in a number of careers, but few, if any, are like that of being an astronaut and being propelled far from Earth and those who might be able to help you while riding atop a blazing rocket.

Fortunately, the Artemis II launch went well and the astronauts are on their way to an orbit around the moon and a few firsts: the first Black astronaut, the first female astronaut, and the first Canadian to orbit the moon.

I'm glad the US once again has a presence in space. While I personally do not yearn for space travel, I do believe there is much to learn in space that will benefit humankind. (And I also believe the world would be a better place if some other people were in space, but that is another blog post for another time!)

I hope that the astronauts are able to accomplish all that they set out to do on their 10-day, approximately 685,000-mile journey that is expected to take them approximately 250,000 miles from Earth.

I also pray that the Good Lord be with them and bring them home safely!

Happy Birthday, Granddad!

 

My maternal grandfather was born 119 years ago today. He's been gone more than 50 years now and I still miss him. 

Granddad was a simple Kansas farmer, but in my mind, he was larger than life.

Granddad was born on the family's ranch in north-central Kansas, the youngest of nine living children. The family raised cattle, pigs, wheat, milo, and a bit of corn. My great-grandfather also raised jacks and jennies for the US Army. Work ethic was strong in the family and it was not lost on Granddad. He helped with the family farming and ranching operation until, as a young man, he followed his heart and moved to the Pacific Northwest where the woman who would later be my grandmother and her family had moved. 

My Mom told me several times that Granddad loved that part of the country and his time there. He married Granny in Washington state and they began their life together there. While there, Granddad also apparently played semi-pro baseball and was a good pitcher, according to my Mom. (I suspect that played into Mom's love of watching the Royals!)

But the family ag operation eventually brought Granny and Granddad  back to Kansas, where they lived the rest of their lives. Soon, my Mom and her brother came along. The family first lived on a farm west of town, later moving to another farm south of town.

Granddad still played baseball on town teams as time would permit. Somewhere in there, he also opened a restaurant in his hometown, but the venture was short-lived when the restaurant burned down. Nonetheless, Granddad's effort was remembered during the town's 125th anniversary in 2010 when a sign was erected where the restaurant once stood. 

Then came World War II. Granddad joined the Army and fought in the European Theater. Granddad didn't talk about his time in the military, at least not to his children and granddaughters, which is typical of many who have seen combat. We didn't find out until after Granddad had died that he had been an Army sniper.

After the war, Granddad settled back into family life and farming/ranching.

Granddad was one of the good guys. He was always willing to help those in need, oftentimes not accepting payment, despite the fact that he was not monetarily wealthy. He was, however, wealthy in friends and those who loved him. After he died, we heard from numerous people who praised how he had helped them through a rough spot.

Though he enjoyed being around other people, Granddad was a quiet man. But when he spoke, you knew to listen.

He also had a good sense of humor and was a bit on the ornery side. (I may or may not have inherited that!) Mom used to tell that when I was a baby and still not eating much solid food, Granddad would sit me on his lap and give me a bit of his mashed potatoes and gravy. I would smack my lips together and smile, which made Granddad laugh. To this day, I still enjoy mashed potatoes and gravy!

At some point as an adult, Granddad had all of his teeth pulled and acquired a set of dentures, that, for as long as I knew him, he didn't wear. He didn't let that hinder him, however! Grandad could gum a chicken fried steak like nobody's business! 

When my cousin and I were toddlers, we got into Granddad's dresser drawer and found his dentures, much to the horror of our parents. We giggled and thought it was great fun. Instead of getting mad, Granddad laughed about it. I can still hear his laugh. I miss it!

There also were stories of some of the pranks he pulled on people, including the time he tossed a firecracker under some cussed old fella's chair at the grain elevator! Apparently that was the first time the guy had moved that fast in years!

Often during the week, Granddad would take a break from his chores and join the other fellas for a soft drink and maybe a bite to eat at the restaurant (when I was young, it was always "rest-ernt.") 

When I was young, I would spend a couple of weeks in the summer and some weekends with my grandparents. When I was there, Granddad would take me with him to the rest-ernt. In fact, he is responsible for my love of Mtn Dew. At the time, no one in Salina had distribution rights for Mtn Dew, so Granddad would buy a case of it for me to take home. Somewhere I still have a glass bottle or two of the golden elixir.

More than anything, Granddad loved his family. For many years, including his last, he made a point of putting flowers on family graves at the cemetery for Memorial weekend. Until his final few years, Granddad wouldn't let anyone help him. He would order dozens of peonies from a nearby florist. He would dig small holes at each grave, place a Mason jar in each hole and fill it with water and flowers. A week later, he would go back and collect all the jars for use the next year.

Granddad also doted on his granddaughters. When we were young, Granddad bought us a Shetland pony that we named Ringo. We were so excited to have a pony and Granddad was excited for us. Ringo, however, had other ideas. He was not a gentle pony. In fact he could be downright mean at times. After a while, Ringo "ran away" though I am fairly certain he was taken to a nearby sale barn.

Granddad with me (left), and my cousin. We
had either just "helped" feed the pigs or
Granddad was just giving us a ride in the
wheelbarrow. Photo © Leslie Eikleberry 2026

Granddad took us with him to feed the pigs and cows and when he had to run errands in nearby towns. He even took me to my first Chiefs' game in old Municipal Stadium the season after the Chiefs won their first Super Bowl. I still have the team photo he bought me.

I feel bad that my younger cousin never got to know our Granddad. She was born the year after he died. I think she would have enjoyed him and I know he would have loved her dearly.

Granddad was a good man and a wonderful grandfather. I miss him. 

Happy birthday, Granddad! I don't know whether you have learned to use a computer in Heaven, but I believe you somehow know what I have written and how much I still love you!

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Please know that if you leave a comment, it will not show until I OK it being published. Thanks! Les

A big "thank you" to the ER staff

I want to give a much deserved shoutout to the emergency room staff at Salina Regional Health Center. 

You see, I spent a good chunk of my morning there. It turned out to be nothing major and I have returned home feeling much better. 

Each and every one of the ER personnel I encountered was great! From the intake folks to the nurse to the doctor to the custodian, all were friendly and kind. They all made me feel much more comfortable sitting in an exam room with a pulse oximeter clipped to my finger and a blood pressure cuff periodically squeezing the life out of my arm. (I really dislike those cuffs!)

I had been dealing with the issue since mid-afternoon on Christmas. Despite sleeping fairly well last night, the issue continued this morning and I was concerned that something serious was happening inside my body, perhaps related to the giant blood clot that was removed last year. I had just been to my regular doctor visit the week prior and all was well, so I knew something was suddenly off. I got myself to the ER, and unlike the two times a year ago, I drove myself rather than ride in an ambulance.

I figured with it being the day after Christmas, the ER might be busy, but it wasn't, and soon after walking in, I was in an exam room answering the nurse's questions.

Why am I telling you this, you ask? Because often, hospital staff, especially those in the ER, only hear negative comments from those they have treated. 

I'm sure there are instances in which the negative comments are justified, however, not nearly as often as they are heard. 

These folks are good, hard-working people who do their best to help patients feel better. They see all sorts of things, some I would never want to see, yet they do their best to help all those who come into the ER. They need to hear some praise occasionally. 

I, for one, am grateful for their assistance, professionalism, and kindness. Thank you, Salina Regional ER staff! 

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Please know that if you leave a comment, it will not show until I OK it being published. Thanks! Les

Thankful for family

 

This holiday season, I am thankful for family.

For most of my life, I spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with my folks. Sometimes we would go spend the holiday with other relatives, but the core group of Mom, Dad, and I was a constant. Then, Dad died two years ago and Mom last year.

I have to admit I have felt a little lost since they died. It is a natural part of the grief process. But death, like life, has a funny way of changing the game, sometimes quite subtly.

A month after my Mom died, her brother died. My uncle was one of the good guys, and his death, after what I had already experienced the previous year and a half, was another gut punch.

I wanted to support my two cousins and my aunt, so I traveled to KC for my uncle's funeral. A number of my aunt's family were also there to support her and the girls. They were back again, eight months later, for my aunt's funeral.

We didn't know each other well, but we knew names and the basics about each other, enough that there were hugs all around as people left to return home.

Thanksgiving and Christmas of 2024 I spent with longtime family friends who, essentially, were chosen family. We had known each other since I was five years old. It was a good time and I did my best to not tear up while missing my folks during those two holidays.

Then, this past summer, I returned to KC, partly for my birthday celebration, but also to look through family treasures as my cousins prepared to clean out my aunt and uncle's house.

I hadn't been there long before my older cousin (she's only about four months older than me, but older is older) said she had news. Her mother's side of the family was gathering for Thanksgiving at Grand Lake of the Cherokees in Oklahoma and they were inviting me to join them. 

Now those who know me well know that I am a dyed-in-the-wool introvert and I sometimes don't do well in large, boisterous crowds. At that point, I didn't have plans and I knew it would be good for me to be around a group of good people, so I said I would be happy to join them.

A while later, I began to second guess myself. Had I made the correct decision? They all have known each other well for years. I have not.

Nonetheless I continued forward and vowed to try to fit in and at least not embarrass my cousins. 

Then, as Thanksgiving drew closer, I began to worry about traveling all that way by myself. My years as a journalist writing cops stories has colored my view of the world. I still believe there are many good people in the world, but I know there are some who are not and I was concerned about driving through an area with which I am not familiar.

As it turned out, I ended up driving to KC and traveling to the lake with my cousin and her husband. I much appreciate them letting me tag along!

There were times where I hung out on the fringes of the group and observed. Afterall, I am a retired journalist. We had four generations there. There were people from a variety of locations and careers. Everyone's story was a little different, but they all had two things in common: their family and the importance of it.

Despite my introvertedness the four days we were at the lake, the Brown family drew me out and included me. In fact, they have adopted me and I am one of the family now!

That's something for which I am greatly thankful!

A much needed family birthday celebration

My Missouri cousins are the best!

A couple of weekends ago, I went to Independence to visit and to do a bit of work. You see, my cousins find themselves in the same boat as I am. Within the past year, both of their parents died and my cousins are now tasked with sorting through all the stuff in their parents' house and making decisions of what to keep and what to get rid of. A tough task. 

As they were sorting through stuff, they came across some family items they thought I might want. I had offered to help them and since we really hadn't had a good visit since their mother died, I traveled the I-70 autobahn to get in some quality cousin time.

It did not disappoint!

The weekend also served as an early celebration of my impending trip-around-the-sun anniversary. You see, this will be my first birthday without either of my parents. As I mentioned in an earlier post (https://morewithles.blogspot.com/2025/04/dealing-with-firsts-remembering-lasts.html), dealing with firsts during the grieving process can be tough.

I had planned to get one of my favorite meals on my birthday and call it good. My cousin, Lori, who is the caretaker of the family, had other ideas. She and her sister, Jennifer, with the help of their families, put together a great weekend!

Of course, we took no pix of the weekend so here is one from
a while back. I think I was two. I am a bit taller now.
Photo © Leslie Eikleberry 2025

There was the traditional singing of "Happy Birthday to You." We also had some delicious birthday cake from a bakery. Good job selecting the cakes, Tracy! No need to tell Lori, but the piece she sent home with me didn't last very long after I got home. (In my defense, I did have to stay up a while and make sure my phone and Apple watch were charged, as I was getting low battery notifications on both by the time I got home from the weekend.)

We also had a family favorite: homemade ice cream! It had been a while since I had homemade ice cream. It was just as tasty as I remember and brought back a lot of memories of time spent with family over the years. 

And let's not forget the birthday dinner: pizza from Minsky's. When Lori told me we were having pizza for dinner "if that's OK," I was like "Sure, twist my arm!" Pizza is my favorite food and after seeing a bazillion Minsky's commercials on TV, I was excited to finally be trying it! I also was happy to discover that despite my lack of gallbladder, I can still eat pepperoni pizza! (I'm sure my doctor will not find as much joy in that discovery.)

One of my young cousins (Lori's granddaughter) who even at grade school age is an aspiring actress, recited some of her lines for me. She did a good job. 

Much of the time was spent looking through papers and photos and reminiscing. (Cue the Little River Band.)

All in all, it was a great weekend filled with love and family! Thank you, cousins, for helping me transition through another first! Love you!

We're not the Cunninghams, but we are family

 

"Family's more than just DNA. It's about people who care and take care of each other." Leroy Jethro Gibbs (NCIS, Season 9 Episode 4, 2011)

I've been thinking a lot about family lately, so yesterday, while watching an NCIS marathon on WE TV, my famdar (family radar) went off when Gibbs said the above to Abby Sciuto. That quote truly encompasses what I've come to believe about family. 

Although Mom, Dad, and I were a close-knit family, growing up, I always knew that eventually my parents would be gone and it would just be me. I didn't think much about it though, living in the moment instead of worry about the future. 

Then, two years ago, Dad died and last year, Mom left to join him.

But you know what? It wasn't just me who was left. In reality, over the years, my family had actually grown. While I don't share DNA with a number of my family members, I do share the caring and taking care of components with them. 

Sometimes, the caring and taking care of is in person, such as when two very dear friends gave me rides home from the hospital the two weeks in a row that I had unplanned surgeries a couple of months after Mom died. I had taken an ambulance to the hospital each time, so did not have a car at the hospital. In one case, we also "drug Fe" on the way home, a throwback to our youth when, as teens, we would drive up and down Santa Fe Avenue socializing with our friends. It was a delightful diversion and got my mind off of my recent lung surgery for a bit. 

Another dear friend, who called my folks "Mom and Dad Eikleberry," not only spent two hours on the phone with me after Mom died, but also drove hours to support me and help out on the day of Mom's funeral. She also made a quick trip to Salina the night of Dad's visitation as she was not able to attend the funeral. She continues to check in on me and let me know that I am loved. 

Two other friends, who were my students when I worked at Emporia State, surprised me, also driving hours to attend Mom's funeral. It meant the world to me to have them there and I consider them family as well.

Then there are the longtime family friends who have known me since I was about five years old who now invite me to holiday and family get-togethers. They check on me regularly, and I on them.

And let's not forget my two first cousins, who now are my closest, DNA-sharing, living relatives whether they like it or not! LOL!  😁 They, too, were here for me when my folks died and have continued to keep in touch. I try to do the same.

A month after Mom died, her brother died. He was a great guy and you can read about him here: https://morewithles.blogspot.com/2024/09/. So, I headed to Kansas City, not only to pay tribute to an uncle I loved dearly, but also to support my cousins as they had done for me.

While there, I spent time with my aunt's side of the family, many of whom I had not met before. They embraced me and included me as one of the family.

Last weekend, I was in Kansas City again. This time for my aunt's funeral. Although it was a sad occasion, I am glad she is no longer suffering and missing the love of her life. (She and my uncle had been together since they were freshmen in college.)

Despite the grieving, it was good to see my aunt's family, who now have become my extended family. I don't know whether we will see each other again, but there are ways we will keep in touch. 

Of course, I also have several friends with whom I am in regular contact. Although we don't see each other often, the bond is there and they are family. I know that if I needed them, they would be here for me. I also have several cousins from Dad's side of the family with whom I keep in contact.

There is no one set way to define family. Not all families are like those portrayed on TV by the Cunninghams ("Happy Days") or "The Waltons." Decades ago, even TV families broke the mold of how to define "family" with such shows as "The Brady Bunch" and "My Three Sons." 

The concept of "family" is different for each of us. We each determine who we allow in our family. 

Embrace those people and let them know that you love them. To all of my family: I love you dearly! Hugs to all!

Dealing with firsts, remembering lasts

Firsts and lasts. It seems they are always with us. 

For instance, this week, the NFL will conduct its annual draft. A big to-do will be made for the young man who is drafted first. Likewise, the final draft pick, Mr. Irrelevant, will be feted with a variety of events during Irrelevant Week.

Races and elections have firsts and lasts. Gardens have first blooms and last blooms. Families with more than one child have first-born and last-born children.

Over the past couple of years, I have learned that the grieving process adds a whole new meaning to firsts and lasts. 

Sure, I already knew a great deal about the grieving process thanks to my counseling-based master's degree. Because of my training, I understand the concepts of why I have reacted the way I have over the past couple of years after losing several loved ones. But even all that education didn't prepare me for the emotional gut punch of firsts and lasts. 

Thanksgiving and Christmas were a bit difficult last year, as they were the first holidays I celebrated without both my parents. Fortunately, close family friends, chosen family really, included me in their festivities, so I was surrounded by love and a sense of belonging that I wouldn't have felt had I spent the holidays alone.

Shortly before Thanksgiving, I took some flowers out to the cemetery. I did so because of the holiday, but also because it almost was Mom's birthday and I hadn't been out to the cemetery since the monument company got my folks' headstone set. I had been in the hospital having one of my two unplanned surgeries in two weeks when the headstone was set. 

The drive out to the cemetery is 10-15 minutes through the Saline County countryside. The whole way out, I told myself that I could do it. I could be strong and not blubber my way through the visit. I did pretty good for the first minute or so, but my emotions got the best of me and tears rolled down my face. I must have been well-hydrated that day because the tears continued all the way back to town.

And you know what? That was OK. I needed the catharsis that the crying provided. In looking back on the visit, the only reason I truly needed to be strong was to be able to face that first cemetery visit head-on. I'm sure there will still be tears when I visit the cemetery, but that first time is now over and I know that I will be OK.

Some firsts have been weirdly positive. For instance, a few weeks ago, we had our first tornado warning of the season. As I sat on the basement steps with my go-bag of food, water, and now, medicine, I realized how glad I was that Mom was not here. 

Now some will think that is bad, but the reality is that Mom's safety was my utmost concern in her last few years and had she still been alive, I'm not sure what we would have done during the tornado warning. There would have been no way that she could have made it downstairs. Had she still been alive I wouldn't want her final moments to be the sheer terror of being tossed around in the air by a tornado.

As it turned out, her final moments were peaceful and she was kept comfortable by a caring medical staff. Her final words before she slipped into a coma in the emergency room due to a fast-growing brain bleed, were that her head hurt. 

That comment will always stay with me, but so will a couple of conversations we had the week prior. Because of the dementia brought on by Parkinson's, Mom, in her final months, often was simple and childlike. Every once in a while, however, she was "my Mom" and we had some great talks. I will always hang on to those.

The other day, while in the kitchen, I happened to notice a grocery list on the refrigerator. For years, we had kept a pad of paper on the refrigerator and would write down grocery needs until one of us went to the store. After Dad had gotten sick and was either in the hospital or rehabbing at a nursing facility after his cancer surgery, I started keeping the grocery list on a note pad near my computer. It worked out well as I have ordered groceries online since COVID hit.

The grocery list I saw on the refrigerator the other day was Dad's last grocery list. Additionally, Mom's last towel still hangs in the bathroom. At some point, as I work through the grieving process, I will remove both the grocery list and the towel, but not yet.

Last fall, a college roommate called me out of the blue. Although we kept up with each other via Facebook, we hadn't spoken in a long time. She had a lot to tell me, including about her health issues and her grieving for her longtime significant other who had recently died. We had quite a long conversation with me mainly listening and occasionally offering words of encouragement as I thought appropriate.

As it turned out, it was the last conversation I would have with my college roommate. She died about a month later. I'm still going through the "I need to ask her about" stage and then realizing that I can't. At some point, that, too, will pass. But I will always remember that last conversation with her.

I suspect there will be a number of additional firsts and lasts as I work my way through the grieving process. Sometimes it will be tough, but they are part of who I am and I will make it through. The key will be to deal with the firsts, remember the lasts, and keep moving forward.

Sunflowers and standing up to bullies

Shortly after Russia invaded Ukraine on February 24, 2022 -- a Thursday -- a right-leaning friend of mine assured me that the war "would be over by the weekend."

Yet here we are, more than three years later and small but mighty Ukraine continues to stand up to bully Russia. The Ukrainians' success in continuing to fight the good fight is, in part due to people doing what they can when they can. 

For much of that time, the United States, as a country, was doing what it could to help Ukraine's effort. The current administration, however, has pulled the rug out from under the Ukrainians, pausing our country's support for them. This goes against everything the United States has stood for during its nearly 250-year history.

In my heart of hearts, I truly believe that a majority of Americans are not in favor of alignment with Russia, but they are not being heard by many of those elected to govern our country. Ordinary citizens struggle daily to get through to their elected representatives. A number of right-leaning lawmakers now parrot Russian talking points, including blaming Ukraine for starting the war. Nothing could be further from the truth.

As I was thinking of this weak, pathetic, cowardly situation our government has gotten us into, I happened to glance across the room and saw something that caused me to smile and be reminded that there are more good Americans than bad.

In June 2022, a group of local and area artists working with Peggy and Wayne DeBey at The Flower Nook had a fundraiser to help the people of Ukraine. More than 100 pieces of art featuring sunflowers, the national flower of Ukraine, were created by the talented artists and available for sale at The Flower Nook in time for the business' June First Friday event. 

Thousands of dollars were raised and contributed to the Warsaw Museum of Modern Art for its Ukrainian refugee efforts. At the time the effort was announced, one of the organizers, Linda Foster of Miltonvale, told me that the Warsaw museum was selected because it was opening its doors to Ukrainian refugees, doing such things as feeding refugees and helping them find medical services and fill out paperwork. 

(Full disclosure: I wrote several stories about the artists' efforts while running Salina Post.)

While I was at The Flower Nook looking over the sunflower art offerings and shooting some photos, I found a piece I couldn't live without. I agreed to not take the painting home until after The Flower Nook's First Friday event, and Peggy kindly reserved it in my name.

The sunflower painting I purchased. No, I haven't hung the
painting yet because I still have not found a frame I like.
Photo © Leslie Eikleberry 2025

The piece I purchased was by Salina artist Marcy Roth, who wrote on the back, "Throughout the day, the sunflower lifts its face toward the sun...towards light. It is my wish for the people of Ukraine that they too, are able to lift their faces towards hope and healing in the midst of this tragic war."

Roth and her group of local and area artists were just more people doing what they could when they could. 

Have you done what you can?

Happy birthday, Dad!

"Hi, kid!"

For years, that's how my Dad greeted me when I got home from work.

I've been thinking a lot about my Dad today. You see, it is his birthday. The third one without him here. 

I had hoped to take some flowers out to the cemetery, but Snowmageddon 2025.3 put a stop to that. The country road that leads to the cemetery is not good whenever any sort of moisture is involved, and I don't want to risk getting stuck, so I'll have to imagine a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a visit with Dad.

When I moved back to my hometown to take a public relations job at a local university, the initial plan was for me to live with my folks until I could get my house in Emporia sold and find a place here. One thing led to another and the longer I lived with my senior parents, the more it became apparent that they needed a bit of help. So I continued to live with my folks, Dad for about twenty years and Mom for more than twenty-one years.

Familywise, those were some of the best years of my life. Sure, we had our differences. Dad was a dyed-in-the-wool Republican who moved farther to the right the older he got. For a number of years, I, too, was a registered Republican, but I couldn't reconcile that with my gut instinct to truly have empathy for others and help those in need. Brownback's "experiment" was the last straw for me. I reside in the moderate part of the political spectrum.

Nonetheless, we had a lot of good times. 

Once I started working at the senior center as the executive director, Dad was a regular fixture, whether it was bringing Mom to her sewing group, having coffee with his friends or hanging out with the guys in the pool room. He always popped into my office for a bit, usually to fill me in on the latest gossip he had heard.

We took vacations together, attended family reunions and funerals in Minnesota together, and attended a lot of football games. My folks started taking me to Salina High football games when I was four. A few years later, they started buying season tickets for Mustang football and kept those seats for decades. When I moved back home, a seat for me was added to the season tickets. I, of course, proudly joined Dad as a Mustang alum!

When Mom and Dad were no longer able to climb the stairs of the stadium, we made a point of watching college football games together on TV. Of course, as we had since I was a child, we watched the Chiefs on Sundays. I'm glad both my folks got to see the Chiefs do well before they died. 

Dad's last Christmas with us, I got us all Chiefs' shirts. I think he knew then that he was dying, as he gave me an earful about wasting money on Christmas presents for him. That very night, he went back to the hospital and less than two weeks later, he was dead.

Dad, taken two days before he went back
to the hospital for the final time.
Photo © Leslie Eikleberry 2025

I'm still amazed at how much Dad's illness and surgery took out of him. He went from a vital senior to a hesitant, thin, unsteady old man in a matter of months.

In the fall of 2022, Dad was diagnosed with rectal cancer. The surgery and radiation went well and the doctors were confident that they had gotten all of the cancer. What none of us knew at the time, however, was that Dad had developed what essentially was a small ulcer at the top of his colon. I suspect it was, in part, from worrying about his cancer diagnosis. Through the hole caused by the ulcer, bad bacteria was able to leak into his chest cavity and he developed a bad infection that his 90-year-old body just couldn't handle.

Although I miss my Dad greatly, I am glad he is no longer suffering. That infection wreaked havoc on his body and his final few days on Earth were not pleasant.

Even though Dad has been gone for a while now, I still have moments when I think to myself, "I need to remember to tell Dad about that." Sometimes, when I walk in the front door, in my head I hear him say "Hi, kid!" I guess that is my way of holding on to memories.

Happy birthday, Dad! I love and miss you greatly.

Everything old is new again

The phrase "Everything old is new again" has special meaning for me these days. 

When I was young, I had a kid-sized table and chairs. Quite often, I used the table when I colored, which I loved to do. (Still do!) We also used it when playing house. Additionally, the table doubled as the kiddie table when there were family food gatherings. 

Once I outgrew the table and chairs, Dad put them in the basement. 

One year for Christmas, again when I was young, I received a toy riding horse. It seemed huge at the time. The horse was made of wood and painted red and white. It was attached to a solid wooden frame with springs. The idea was to pretend to be riding a horse while bouncing it on the springs.

My horse. Photo © Leslie Eikleberry 2025

I loved that horse and I loved to make it bounce. I would get to bouncing so hard, that the frame would come up off the floor, making loud thumping noises. That would send Mom running in my direction, as she thought I had fallen! Needless to say, I got into trouble often for bouncing the horse off the floor!

As happened with the table and chairs, I outgrew the horse. And like the table and chairs, the horse was relegated to the basement. There, they all stayed for decades.

When I sold my childhood home in December, I left the table, chairs, and horse for the new owner to dispose of as he pleased. Little did I know that he would bring new life to my old playthings and cause me happiness once again.

One day, a few weeks after the sale, the new owner texted me a short video of his young daughter playing on the horse on their porch. He told me that the horse was still in good shape and that all he had to do was dust it off!

Then today, he sent me a couple of photos of his adorable young daughter sitting at the table. In one, she is giving me a thumbs up! He had moved the table and chairs to their home and now she has her own personal table and chairs!

Both instanced did my heart good to see another youngster enjoying my playthings as much as I did!

I also was touched that the new owner cared enough to share his daughter's joy with me.

With all of the divisiveness and disarray in our world these days, it's nice to have first-hand examples that there are still good people in this world and that there is a happy little girl who is loving her new horse and table and chairs!

A hand for the Lady Gaga song selection

The Chiefs hat I am wearing today.
Photo © Leslie Eikleberry 2025

The song that Lady Gaga sang before the Super Bowl game today holds a special place in my heart. 

A little over two years ago, I had finally gotten the chance to watch Top Gun: Maverick. Hold My Hand has a prominent place toward the end of the movie. 

As the credits were rolling, I drifted off to sleep, only to be awaken a few minutes later when the hospital called at about 12:30 a.m. to tell me that Dad had died. All the while, Hold My Hand was playing on a loop in my head.

At the time, I thought it was Dad's way of letting me know that he would always be with me.

While I know the song had another meaning today, I also believe that Lady Gaga singing Hold My Hand was Dad checking in with me. We didn't watch all football games together, but Mom, Dad, and I did watch the Super Bowl together.

Although he's not physically here, I know Dad is still watching the Super Bowl with me. A photo of Mom will probably soon pop up on my watch to let me know that Mom also is watching with us.

How about those Chiefs, indeed!

One of my Chiefs shirts. Photo by Leslie Eikleberry

How about those Chiefs!!!

My Chiefs are headed back to the Super Bowl! It's not an unfamiliar occurrence in recent years, but that hasn't always been the case.

Whether you love them or hate them, the Chiefs have had a long history with the NFL's championship game. They played in Super Bowl I on January 15 1967, and were defeated by Vince Lombardi's Packers.

Their second appearance in the title game was Super Bowl IV, ironically in New Orleans. In that game, the Chiefs defeated the Minnesota Vikings on January 11, 1970.

I remember that game and where I was. I sat in the middle of our living room floor a safe distance from the console television and watched the entire game. (As some of you are old enough to remember, we couldn't sit too close to the TV or it would ruin our eyes, or so we kids were told.)

I was enthralled seeing all of my favorite players: Len Dawson at quarterback (I still have an autographed photo from him that I got shortly after the game), Mike Garrett at running back, Otis Taylor and Frank Pitts at wide receiver, and Fred Arbanas at tight end. On the defensive side, I cheered for Curley Culp, Buck Buchanan, Bobby Bell, Willie Lanier, Emmitt Thomas, and Johnny Robinson.

When the Chiefs won, I was so happy that I couldn't stop crying for several minutes. Many pent-up wishes and much emotion escaped through my eyes that day.

Over the next few years, I got to meet some of my favorite Chiefs in person as they formed basketball teams and traveled around the region playing town teams in the off-season. I recall attending one game in Salina's Memorial Hall. We also attended a game played in Lincoln, Kansas. Of course, after the games, the Chiefs players hung around and signed autographs, some of which I still have today.

My family and I also attended a number of Chiefs games, first in old Municipal Stadium and then in Arrowhead. 

I was fascinated with the parking situation around Municipal Stadium. We always parked in someone's front yard. I don't remember how much we paid the homeowner, but he always made sure our car and the others in his yard were safe. Later on, I learned that many people in the Municipal Stadium area rented out parking spaces in their yards during Chiefs home games as a way to make some extra money.

After that Super Bowl win in New Orleans, however, the Chiefs hit a tough patch. And yes, during that time I did occasionally refer to the Chiefs as the "Chefs." It would be a long, sometimes painful, fifty years before the Chiefs reached the Super Bowl again. On February 2, 2020, the Chiefs defeated the San Francisco 49ers in Super Bowl LIV.

I was as ecstatic for that win over the 49ers as I was for the win over the Vikings. (And no, I did not sit in the middle of the living room floor!) As it turned out, it was the last Chiefs Super Bowl win I would watch with both my parents.

But unlike the season after their Super Bowl IV win, the Chiefs returned to the Super Bowl the next year. Sadly, they were defeated by Tom Brady led Tampa Bay on February 7, 2021.

After that, the Chiefs skipped a year. (And I'm sure Cincinnati's loss to the Rams that year was somehow the Chiefs' fault, since Bengals players and fans like to cast blame on the Chiefs every chance they get.)

The Chiefs returned to the Super Bowl the following year, defeating the Philadelphia Eagles in SBLVII. Then last year, the Chiefs again defeated the 49ers in SBLVIII. (And they did so in the Raiders home stadium!)

This coming February 9, the Chiefs will once again face the Eagles, this time in New Orleans in Super Bowl LIX or Super Bowl "Licks" if you're Gronk!

How do I think they will do? The Chiefs certainly have history and recent SB mojo on their side, winning three of four Super Bowls in five years. And they have learned this year to gut it out and win when it looked like they were going to lose. They also have won a Super Bowl in New Orleans. Additionally, the Chiefs have a number of great players on both sides of the ball, but so do the Eagles. Both teams also have talented coaching staffs.

A key to a Chiefs win will be stopping Eagles RB Saquon Barkley, who, frankly, has been a lot of fun to watch this year. I wish I had drafted him for one of my fantasy teams! 

Another key will be protecting Mahomes and not having ill-timed penalties from certain offensive linemen. And while they're at it, the O-line needs to open up some holes for Pacheco and Hunt! Finally, all the Chiefs need to stay healthy!

From their standpoint, the Eagles also will be playing to avenge their SBLVII defeat by the Chiefs.

It should be a great game! I can't wait!

Wishing you something better

There has been a tremendous amount of loss this year...on a number of levels. 

Now, I know that loss is a part of life and I am not the only one who has lost loved ones. Daily, people lose loved ones. But never before in my life have I experienced so much loss by so many people I know in one year. 

Several classmates have died. A number of friends and relatives have lost spouses. Others have lost parents. In one instance, a good friend from college lost her significant other, who died in his sleep earlier in the year. Last week, I was notified that my friend, herself, had died, also in her sleep. She was only a year older than me.

If you are a regular reader of my blog (thank you!), you know that I lost my Mom and her brother earlier this year. Those two losses were enough to send me into an emotional tailspin. While the spontaneous tears still come on occasion, I am doing better, and frankly, am tired of crying. For me, that is a good sign that I am beginning to heal emotionally.

While I am somewhat stunned by all of the loss within my small part of humanity, I refuse to let it overwhelm me. Yes, the losses do have an affect on my life, but they will not define my life nor how I move forward into the future. 

A good friend recently reminded me of how I want to move forward. "I know how weird/hopeless it can feel when we can’t see the next thing. But I firmly believe that there is a next/new thing coming and it will be better than we could have imagined," she told me.

She is correct! Her reminder gives me hope that all of the chaotic darkness of 2024 will lift and there will be something better in my life in the future. Even something better for all of us! I eagerly await it!

So this Christmas, hug your loved ones tightly and tell them you love them. Wishing you a very Merry Christmas and something better for the new year!

So long, Harvey

I went to a visitation today for the father of some longtime friends. 

Harvey's oldest daughter and I have been friends for nearly six decades, and I've known his other three daughters for almost as long. 

I didn't know their Daddy very well when we were growing up, but I was blessed to get to know him as an adult while I worked at the senior center. Most weekdays, Harvey would come in for lunch, and if I could, I would join him for a meal.

We visited about happenings in town and, of course, he caught me up on what his beloved daughters were up to. He was tremendously proud of the girls and their families. On occasion, when the out-of-town girls were home for a visit, Harvey would bring them in to the senior center for lunch and a visit with me. It was always good to see them. 

Despite the solemnity and sadness of the occasion, it was good to see them again today. 

Harvey was a good, hard-working man with a wonderful sense of humor. He usually teased me about something when he saw me. When he ate lunch with a certain humor-loving group of seniors, Harvey could hold his own and give back as good as he got. There were a few times I was nearly in tears from laughing so hard at their banter.

Sometimes, during special occasions, we would give away prizes to seniors during lunch. During one Earth Day celebration, Harvey won one of the specially made desserts. He so didn't want his photo taken, but, because I had asked him, he acquiesced, and posed with his prize and a smile on his face.

When my Mom died earlier this year, I immediately felt the aloneness of adult orphanhood. I'm still dealing with that, but it is getting a bit better. 

After visiting with the girls and a couple of their spouses, I learned that the girls and I are not the only ones who have suffered loss this year. It has been a helluva year for many of us. 

I came away from our visit with a bit of a different perspective about what has happened to us this year.

While we have lost loved ones and are transitioning to being the seniors in society, those of us who remain continue to move forward one step at a time. But we do so together with love, grace, and compassion. 

Remembering Christmases past

I've been thinking a lot about Christmas this year, partly because it will be my first year without both of my parents. I've also, however, been thinking about how much the Christmas season has changed over the years.

When I was a little one, the Christmas season was full of awe and wonder. The lights. The decorations. The music. It all created a wonderous time filled with joy. In Sunday school, we sang songs about the birth of Jesus. In school, we sang about Santa and Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. It seemed perfectly logical to have both, and both blended together to create one joyous, eagerly anticipated season.

The season was filled with a series of much anticipated events, starting with receiving the Sears Christmas catalog. Each year, I looked through the catalog multiple times, in awe of all the fun toys and Christmas gifts to be had. 

Once the Sears Christmas catalog was out, it was time to think about and then write my letter to Santa with what I would like for Christmas. 

When I was growing up, my folks didn't have a lot of money. I didn't realize until I was an adult that we weren't wealthy because they always made sure that the holidays and birthdays were special.

Many of my gifts were books, and I would spend hours in my room reading. 

I also, however, got a number of gifts that challenged my mind and sparked my creativity. Games such as Milton Bradley's Feeley Meeley in which players had to identify and retrieve from a covered box items shown on game cards. We had to determine the correct items by how they felt in our hands. The person who correctly retrieved the most items won. Today, I doubt that I would stick my hand in a hole in the side of a box to retrieve anything, but it was a great deal of fun then.

Another creativity sparking gift was Spirograph, which used a variety of hoops and disks, as well as multiple colored pens to create a plethora of geometric designs. The hoops and disks had teeth, which enabled them to work like gears, albeit on a flat surface. How the designs turned out depended on which pens and disks were used with which hoops. Another variable was where the pen was inserted into the disk as the disk was twirled around the hoop. I spent hours creating geometric designs and no two of my designs were the same.

One year, either my uncle or my grandparents got me a small reel to reel tape recorder. My friend, Laurie, and I spent hours recording a mixture of commentary and songs, many of which we made up as we went along. To this day, Laurie will remind me of a rewrite we did of the words to the theme song for Here Come the Brides, a late 1960s TV show that included my heartthrob, Bobby Sherman! 

Of course, there also were crayons and coloring books and other crafty type gifts that sparked creativity as well. To this day, I enjoy coloring and once this blog post is done, I think I will dig out my Christmas coloring book and gel pens and color a page or two. 

As I got older, but before I was old enough to be hired for a job, I used to do extra chores around the house to make money so I could buy my family Christmas presents. One year, Mom told me she would pay me five cents for every piece I ironed. Unfortunately, she didn't anticipate my ingenuity and drive. I ironed everything I could think of, including tablecloths that weren't being used and my Dad's shorts!

Another eagerly anticipated Christmastime event was baking and decorating Christmas-themed sugar cookies, or cutout cookies as we called them then. We had a variety of Christmas cookie cutters, including a star, a Santa, a Christmas tree, a snowman, a stocking, and a present. The cookies were decorated with a variety of colors of frosting and sprinkles.

Then there was the decorating of the Christmas tree. At the time, Dad insisted that we purchase a real tree. Back then, we had to wait a day or two for the tree to get rehydrated before we could decorate it. The wait seemed like an eternity. The house sure smelled good, though! Additionally, for a number of years, my grandparents had a tinsel tree with a rotating multi-colored light. When I was little, I spent a great deal of time in awe of the twinkling tree.

There also were the school and church Christmas programs and the class Christmas parties, filled with music, goodies, and the Christmas spirit.

I also eagerly anticipated riding around town with my parents to look at Christmas lights and decorations. Now keep in mind that this was before parks were decorated with drive-through light shows and an over abundance of inflatable decorations were created. A highlight of the excursion was stopping at a house that each year showed cartoons on its large front window. Cars could pull up and tune their radios to a special frequency to hear the audio from the cartoons. People were respectful and didn't stay too long so that others also would have the opportunity to watch the show.

And then there was the Christmas music! It was on the radio and in the stores from Thanksgiving to Christmas.  These were songs by Nat King Cole, Andy Williams, Brenda Lee, Burl Ives, Perry Como, Dean Martin, etc. We also played Christmas music at home. I would have played it for a longer period of time than we did, but I suppose it wouldn't have seemed as special then.

Because of family obligations and conflicting schedules, we had four gifting sessions. Christmas Eve was spent with my Dad's parents and brother, as well as my Great Aunt and Uncle. Christmas morning was for Mom, Dad, and I. Then we headed to Lincoln County to "have Christmas" with Mom's side of the family. Somehow, Santa managed to leave presents at all four locations!

As I have gotten older, some traditions have lost their luster or are no longer a part of my world.

I rarely bake cookies any more. Now that I no longer have a gallbladder, I suspect most Christmas cookies will be forbidden. And I'd rather eat no Christmas sweets than try the low-fat versions. They just wouldn't be the same. Sorry, but I am a Christmas sweets snob!

While I still try to listen to some of the Christmas music listed above, I prefer classical Christmas music. 

Jorgie guarding the presents while we wait for
Mom and Dad to get up.  This was several years
ago. © Leslie Eikleberry 2024

Our Christmas tree has changed to an artificial one that has remained in the box for the past several years, at my Dad's request, out of fear that our dog might damage it. Now that Jorgie is gone, I doubt I will put the tree up. It just seems like too much of a hassle. I did, however, hang the Santa on the front door and may even put the wreath on the porch!

Up until they died, I drove my folks around town to look at Christmas lights, but the fun wasn't in seeing the decorations. It was in being together at Christmastime. I don't plan to look at lights this year.

I am curious to see what future Christmas seasons hold for me. I don't want anyone feeling sorry for me because my immediate family is gone. I know there is something out there for me. I just need to work through the grief of losing my folks and my Jorgie before I can figure out what it is. 

In the meantime, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas. Hug your loved ones tight and eat a Christmas cookie and piece of fudge for me! (Those calories don't count!)

I am thankful

With Thanksgiving just around the corner, I have been reflecting on why I am thankful.

Now given the events of the past couple of years, I'm sure some of you are wondering what sorts of drugs the doctors have me on. Afterall, both my parents, my uncle, and my best buddy (dog) all died within the past two years. Additionally, I am still recovering from two major surgeries in October: removal of a large blood clot from my lungs and removal of my gallbladder.

Despite all of that, I remain thankful.

I am thankful that I still tear up when thinking of my departed family members. There was/is a great deal of love between us and I am holding on to it as tenaciously as I can. So what if I cry, even ugly cry, at the oddest or even most inopportune moments. It means that I care and that while my family members are gone, the love remains. 

Don't want to see me ugly cry? Then don't look because it is going to happen.

I am thankful for my good friends and family members who have continued to check on me through it all and help when needed. Despite sometimes feeling lost and lonely because my core family has departed, I have found a new sort of family, one partly of blood relatives and partly of those I have chosen to be in my family. I love you one and all!

I am thankful for the Apple Watch I purchased a few months ago so I would have a way to call should I have an emergency. (I think a life-threatening giant blood clot counts, don't you?) I used the watch to call for an ambulance when I had passed out on the hallway floor and was so weak and winded that I couldn't even crawl to the table by my chair where my cell phone was. An hour or so later, the ER doctor told me that if I hadn't come in when I did, I would have died.

I am thankful for the EMTs who broke into my house to get me and whisk me off to the hospital, where a few hours later, medical personnel were removing the blood clot. Thank you, fellas, for only busting out the locks and not totally destroying my front door! And thank you for securing the door until I could return home and replace the locks.

I also am thankful for the EMTs who came to my house a week later to take me back to the hospital, this time to have my gallbladder removed. There was no breaking in this time. Despite it being about 4:30 in the morning, I shut and locked the door and waited for them on Mom's glider out front.

I am thankful that while I was sitting on the glider, I got to see the neighborhood fox scurrying across the yard. I said hello to him, which caused him to pause. He seemed somewhat befuddled that a human was sitting outside at 4:30 in the morning and talking to him. He then went on his way, probably hunting food before returning to the safety of his den.

I am thankful for the medical personnel at Salina Regional Health Center who saved my life and helped me begin to recover from two surgeries in as many weeks.

I am thankful, despite its exorbitant price, for Eliquis, the blood thinner I now take to help dissolve the tiny bits of blood clot that were not able to be removed and to help keep new blood clots from forming. I don't ever want to feel again like I did that morning that the EMTs had to break into my house.

I am thankful for the people God has put into my life to help me navigate through selling my childhood home and getting Mom's estate settled. What a daunting task, especially with everything else going on.

I am thankful that I am able to find foods that I like that will not cause me digestive problems in my new gallbladderless world. Nearly all the foods I used to love are now out as I attempt to embrace a new, lower-fat diet. At first, I was devastated that I would no longer get to eat pepperoni pizza, tacos, cheeseburgers, all the stuff I shouldn't have been eating anyway. But you know what? I haven't had pizza in more than a month and I don't miss it a bit! And on the plus side, the new, lower-fat diet will help me to lose weight and will overall be more healthy for me.

I am thankful, of course, for a roof over my head and warm clothes to wear, and a car to get me around town.

I am thankful for those of you who bother to read my blog posts. While I write for me and to keep writing, I do appreciate hearing from those of you who read my digital chicken scratches!

Most importantly, I am thankful that with all the crap that is going on in the world, the good Lord is taking time to look after me.

What are you thankful for this holiday season?

Is there really a new normal?

Since early 2023, I have been working to establish a new normal for my life. I've come to the conclusion, however, that establishing a new normal isn't a real concept. 

When I first moved back to my hometown in 2003, my folks insisted that I move in with them. Then, as time passed, it became apparent that I needed to continue living with my aging parents to help out. That was our "normal" for nearly 20 years until my Dad died in early 2023.

At that point, I officially became the primary caregiver for my Mom, who had Parkinson's and the dementia that goes with it. Mom and I navigated a new life without Dad. All went fairly well until the fall of 2023, when our Shih Tzu developed irreversible kidney issues and had to be put down. 

Losing Jorgie like that was a gut punch that still prompts tears at times. Jorgie's kisses and snuggles had helped me work through my grief for losing Dad. Mom, through no fault of her own, was little help as her dementia had taken away her ability to empathize.

Nonetheless, we continued on until Mom died in August of this year. For the first time in my life, all of my immediate family members were gone and I was alone. 

I began to rely on my first cousins and my chosen family of close friends and neighbors as I once again tried to establish a new normal. 

A month after Mom died, my Uncle died. While I knew my cousins would still be there for me, I also knew that they now had even more on their plates.

Then, in October, my body rebelled and I was hospitalized twice in two consecutive weeks for two different health issues. In the first, I arrived at the hospital via ambulance mid morning and by 4 p.m. a surgeon was removing a giant blood clot from my lungs.

Shameless promotion: after passing out three times, I found myself on the hallway floor and unable to get up. I used my Apple watch to call the ambulance that first time. I had gotten the Apple watch after I shut the landline off in case I had an emergency and was not near my cell phone. It did its job well. If you have a smart watch synced to your cell phone, learn how to use it to call for help. It may save your life!

Nearly a week after I first went to the hospital, I rode an ambulance back to the hospital after a sharp pain in my lower chest/upper abdomen would not go away. 

I had been told the previous week that there were still some small pieces of the blood clot in my veins that were going to be treated with medication. I was concerned that the pain I was feeling was related to the blood clot pieces still in my system. The doctor had told me that if I had any issues, I needed to get back to the hospital quickly, so I called an ambulance a second time. 

As it turned out, the pain was caused by a bad gallbladder that needed to be removed. That surgery came a day after I arrived at the hospital the second time. 

Since then, I have been recovering from the two surgeries while working on issues related to Mom's estate. 

I've also been thinking about the concept of establishing a new normal. 

I've decided that establishing a new normal isn't real. It seems clear, as I have outlined the past couple of years above, that instead of establishing and living a new normal, we just continue to evolve, reacting and adapting to whatever life throws at us. 

And what if we don't? I suppose that either we die or go insane. 

As for me, it is a comfort to view the rest of my life in through this lens.

I choose to keep evolving. How about you?