Another Way for November 25, 2022
Thanksgiving Leaves
This year for the first time in about 16 years, I raked a couple of baskets of leaves in our front yard a week or so before Thanksgiving.
Why the lapse of time? After moving to a new home about 15 years ago and planting several trees in our front yard, we finally have trees big enough to make a couple baskets of leaves. Somehow the strong winds from the southwest corner of our property that normally blow the leaves northeasterly (out to the hay field) didn’t hit at the right time. Or whatever.
I didn’t mind raking them, and if you read my recent column, you know my husband is not exactly in any condition to rake leaves at the moment. In earlier years he would mow any leaves we did have and shoot them out toward the hayfield as well.
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I’m not a big fan of battery or gas tools for my outside work, and the raking exercise quickly transports me back to the days when we raked a high pile (at our first home) and then called the kiddos to come jump in them. Is there anything more delightful as a child unless it is making snow angels or snowmen?
More on a different kind of “leaving.” As we age, we are saddened with the memories this particular fall holiday brings: the year that my sister-in-law’s father died while hunting which of course wrecked the holiday for them and all of us. I remember arriving at her house anticipating her normal sumptuous Thanksgiving dinner and someone hurried out to tell us the sad news, to warn us of the Barbara’s huge loss. We were all still young and stricken with the reality and pain she was experiencing in the loss of her father on one of the best holiday weekends of the year.D
Many years later, our son-in-law also lost his father to cancer the week of Thanksgiving. I am saddened with two church members’ deaths last week (on the same night) and of course sickened by the recent shooting of three football players in the nearby city of Charlottesville, Va.
We also take nervous glances at the house across the road where our beloved neighbor man is likely closer to heaven with each day. His wife too. But what can we do? Their daughter-in-law tells me stories of her own memories of too many loved ones dying on or near Thanksgiving. I ask if there is anything we can do for her in-laws. Her father-in-law has been like a second Dad for my husband these last 15 years. “Just pray,” she says. Yes, we can do that and we know there is power in prayer to somehow lift people above their grief and exhaustion as they seek to provide home care for these folks in their mid-nineties.
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This was to be my Thanksgiving column and I am sure we’re not the only ones in the same boat, feeling loss and anxiety and pain. Yet we also find deep gratitude within our spirits: a freezer and canning shelves stocked with food—some from our garden and nearby orchards. A warm home with plenty of stacked wood because of my husband’s vigorous wood cutting. Children and grandchildren and siblings and cousins we’ve been able to visit and cherish. Deep faith in the God who carries us all through the difficult times of stress, loss, and tears. We know that God has provided a heavenly home around a huge Thanksgiving table stretching across eternity.
May we focus on good thoughts with love and care over the Thanksgiving weekend.
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How did your Thanksgiving festivities go, or not? What did you learn or regret or ponder?
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Reminder: Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Comments or reflections? Share here or send to anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career: 43 Years Inside Mennonite Media.
Another Way for week of November 18, 2022
Doggone It!
Our dog is a mutt, really. If you’re not into dogs or pets, visit the next page or columnist.
Velvet is a mixed breed, but shows all the signs of an Australian Shepherd. But she’s only about 45 pounds and does not have the wavy hair typical of some Australian Shepherds.
But, when it comes to herding, she’s all there. We have learned much about her shepherding instincts as we’ve lived with her for the last eight years. Especially now—since a cat has reentered our lives this past January.
Velvet (dog) and Pumpkin (cat) get along quite well, but being a cat, Pumpkin doesn’t enjoy being bossed or nuzzled around too much. But they’ll lie down next to each other on the floor when the sun is streaming in our windows, especially during fall and winter.
Pumpkin enjoys going out in our garage (off our kitchen) to catch crickets (or once, a mouse). But she does not meow very loudly. When she wants back in the house, she meows softly. If we have the TV on, we don’t hear her. But the dog has keen enough ears to hear that meow. And Velvet begins barking saying: “Get her in, get her in, she wants in.”
“Okay, okay, Velvet, we’ll get her in, just hold your horses.”
And Pumpkin dashes in as soon as we open the door and the dog touches her nose to Pumpkin, which I assume is her way of marking kitty or territory.
From what I understand, this behavior is not unusual. If my husband and I hug each other, she starts barking. Is that jealousy? When our daughter calls on Sunday evenings and we talk for a half hour or more, Velvet stays quiet, but when we start saying our goodbyes to the grandsons and to our daughter, Velvet chimes in with her barks. Which the grandsons love! These boys have taken care of her frequently, (with their Mom and Dad’s help), when we have traveled through their state and needed dog sitters. She is a people dog.
In the evening if she really needs to go potty, she comes and nudges me on my hand, quite insistently. My husband doesn’t usually take her out, so it is always me she prods.
The historians and archaeologists tell us that dogs have been domesticated by humans for at least 23,000 years, maybe more or less depending on your source. I grew up on a farm and on most farms, dogs were only outside pets, who perhaps were allowed on a porch or dog house depending on weather or the owners. When my husband and I got married and moved from a trailer into our first house, my husband definitely wanted a house dog, partially as a watch dog but primarily as a pet. So I got used to that early on. Husband is also a huge cat person so we’ve had many different cats through the years, especially when our children were young.
I guess the biggest reason I’m writing about an old subject is that I have only (in the last year or two) become more aware of how dogs communicate with us. If she detects that we’re packing for a trip, she becomes quite anxious. Longer ago we had neighbors who could take care of her and we would leave her home. Now these neighbors are quite elderly and can’t take care of our pets. So, as mentioned above, our grandsons have dog-sat. We try to hide our packing until the last minute and she climbs three feet off the ground to load herself into our minivan.
And the “Doggone It” in my column title? Just as I was concluding my writing this piece on our smart and shepherding dog, she goes and gets herself sprayed by a skunk.
That’s just a little of life with an indoor/outdoor dog.
What have you learned about how pets or animals communicate? Any stories?
Share here or send to anotherwaymedia @yahoo.com or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career:43 Years Inside Mennonite Media. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of November 11, 2022
One Lone RN and an Awesome Therapist
We knew the shortage of hospital workers was real and acute. My husband’s surgery was not a life and death matter, and he’s now recovering nicely from his second knee surgery. But I can only imagine how frustrating and deadly the labor shortages have been in some places.
At 11 a.m. on a Saturday morning, a single RN was the lone visible staff person on our end of the hospital’s large hall for hip and knee replacement surgeries. And we were itching to go home!
His surgery went smoothly, the doctor was optimistic. But we made the mistake of accepting a Friday surgery, for which we checked in at 10:15 a.m. By that time the doctor’s schedule had been slowed with two other knee surgeries. My husband’s surgery edged later and later. This meant he wasn’t returned to his room until about 3 p.m. that afternoon. He was still hazy from anesthesia and a spinal block. And by that time, most of the physical therapists at the hospital were either busy or getting ready to go home. Which meant his first therapy session and walk down the hall would wait until the next morning. So, he bent and stretched his leg himself, which was almost painless due to the lingering effects of a spinal block.
On Saturday, we took note of the sign in the room which said most discharges would happen by 11 a.m. But it was almost 11 by the time any therapist even came for him, and lasted about an hour. The lone RN was tasked with making sure patients on both ends of the hall would be getting the right medications for home. My husband had seven different prescriptions, which all had to be entered in the patient’s record.
Meanwhile, patient and wife were growing increasingly impatient and just wanting to go home. A dog and cat were anxiously waiting, we knew. We had thought we would easily be home by 12:30 or so, but it got later and later. We began to rumble loudly about our predicament, along with our stomachs. Where were other staff? Few and far between, which I guess is normal for a Saturday.
The nurse (who overheard us, I’m sure) had a nearly impossible job to finish: pages of electronic paperwork as well as thoroughly explaining to us and other patients what they would need to do to change the bandage, when to take medicine and when not to. The nurse also was dealing with a patient with memory problems at the other end of the hall. She was visibly frustrated using a neck device to call for a wheelchair for hubby’s departure: the neck device was like getting put on hold with a cell phone or other company. Waiting endlessly.
We tried to be more understanding but it was hard not to get upset and anxious about when we could go home. It is almost always harder to get checked out of a hospital, in our limited experience, than in. So be it. In the end, we apologized for mumbling and complaining so loudly. She was almost a saint in understanding and forgiving us regarding our frustration. I’m sad now I didn’t get her name.
So we made it home by 3 p.m. and the dog and cat were, of course, just fine. We are extremely grateful for the care of skilled nurses, CNAs, doctors, housekeepers, cooks, and custodians.
Back in the beginning of the pandemic in March 2020, I wrote here how Stuart’s knee surgery then was hampered by his chosen physical therapy place being completely closed down because of the pandemic and all patients were dismissed. Luckily, after three weeks we were able to find a different physical therapy place which suited him very well. The therapist helped him get back to almost full use of his right leg. We’re very thankful and his recovery on his left leg is going very well.
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Have you or a loved one ever had a long wait to be released–or admitted–to a hospital?
Has your family experienced lack of staff in a hospital stay?
Comment here or send your hospital stories to anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career: 43 Years Inside Mennonite Media. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of November 4, 2022
Getting Our Focus Where It Needs to Be
I was reading about athletes who approach their sport with a razor concentration that helps them be focused and aids their success. I envy that.
Think Serena Williams for one. I’ve picked a tennis player for illustration because they are able to hunch down and peer to the competition and totally focus their eyes on the opposing player, her racket, and tennis ball. A field goal kicker enjoys similar time out to kick the ball with great care with eyes absorbed on those goal posts—albeit with opposing fans yelling loudly.
An article on the BBC website called it a “quiet eye, a kind of enhanced visual perception that allows the athlete to eliminate any distractions as they plan their next move.”
David Robson, author of the article points out that the quiet eye phenomenon becomes active especially under moments or minutes of stress for the athlete. Some athletes experience what they call a “flow state” when they can block out the audience and concentrate totally on the game.
Most of us will never be that kind of athlete but all of us would also benefit greatly in using that kind of laser focus when we drive.
Yes, drive. What is the biggest threat to your life? Heart attack? Worries about cancer? A stroke? Yes, all of these are possible bad curves in life’s road but what do most of us take risks with every day of our lives? What is worth paying more attention to if we want to live long and happy lives with our family and friends?
Keeping a razor focus when we are driving. Especially if we are beginners and definitely as we age.
Okay, most of us, young and old, do what we shouldn’t do: we may risk an occasional text while waiting at a stoplight, glance at GPS directions, talk on the phone, drink coffee, change radio stations, and let our minds wander to everything imaginable. And we take our own lives and those of others into our own hands.
I wrote about this topic years ago (while my mother was still living) and suggested an idea that had popped into my head, and that is to perhaps use driving time to pray for our neighbors as we go by their homes. My mother called me up short on that one, writing me a letter exclaiming that she needs to use all her focus on driving. She was absolutely right. Our focus should be on our driving—especially as we get older.
That was good advice from Mom. I always remember Dad’s advice too to keep a roving eye on the rearview mirror, the side mirrors, and of course the vehicles in front of you.
Think about it: What is the biggest threat to your life? What do most of us take risks with every day of our lives? Our vehicles! Including the increasing numbers of bicycles—and bicycle lanes—on our highways.
Which brings me to another point. We live on a lovely back road complete with hills that challenge a cyclist and also thrill them when they get to the top for an exhilarating ride downhill. Friends often cycle together and even side by side, sometimes waiting far too long to drop back and ride single file while a motorist tries to navigate curves and hills and oncoming traffic. Yes, car drivers need to keep all of us safe by observing posted rules and bike lanes, and practice much patience while waiting for an opportunity to pass. But blessed are the cyclists who do not travel side by side unless they are very sure the road is empty of motorists. I used to walk on back roads and would always stop my hike, get off the macadam, and wait while cars passed, for my safety and theirs.
In the weeks ahead as we may be driving and thinking about Thanksgiving and Christmas plans and all there is to do, let’s also focus on the drivers and pedestrians around us and prayerfully keep everyone safer and saner. And please for your own good and ours, avoid road rage!
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What works for you regarding safe driving? Tricks? Practices?
Pet peeves about drivers? Or driving?
Share here or send stories privately to anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of October 28, 2022
How One Family Helps Feed the Hungry
A few years ago I had the honor and pleasure of interviewing one of the most giving persons in our community, Bucky Berry. When he was just five years old, he remembers living in a shack in our city. His family did not have enough money to put food on the table every day. He remembers, though, how the Salvation Army came and brought food bags and toys for Christmas.
Today Bucky is an entrepreneur with a heart of gold and the willingness to work hard. He says he would give away his last quarter. But he started earning quarters and dollars as a child—mowing lawns when he was just a boy— three to four yards a week. He started an official lawn mowing business in 1993, and you sometimes see a rig marked “Bucky Berry Landscaping” parked around town. He cuts 25 to 30 residential and commercial yards through the spring, summer and fall. His wife has worked as a clerk at Kroger over 32 years.
About 25 years ago the Berrys were thrilled to be expecting a child, who ended up being premature and weighed just 1.8 pounds. Little Brent struggled for his life at a children’s hospital for two months and was finally released. Today Brent loves helping with the food drives which are named in his honor.
Brent and Bucky are a team at the various collection sites they set up around town. Son Brent hands out a slip of paper to customers going into stores listing the various products that work well for the food drives. Bucky happily receives what the shoppers bring back out of the store to donate.
“This is a pretty giving community,” Bucky explains further. “We meet a lot of people, and businesses come and donate lunch or supper for us or the other volunteers,” notes Bucky. He also enjoys ringing the Salvation Army bell and has done so for 30 years straight. Locally, the Salvation Army food pantry also gets donated perishable food from the Blue Ridge Area Food Bank and other community donations.
“There are many who may be down on their luck and go to bed hungry. If the Salvation Army wasn’t here, they’d be up a creek,” Bucky points out. He notes that about 70 percent of our city children receive free or reduced price lunches and breakfast, which means their family has a low income and may go hungry on weekends or summers when they don’t get two meals a day at school.
Bucky describes the work involved in setting up the food drives, such as securing insurance, permits, banners that cost $700-800 which he arranges for sponsors to cover. “It takes weeks to plan it a big event like that,” he said. “You gotta get meals and drinks lined up for volunteers and 25 different sponsors; there’s a lot involved.”
His memories from childhood when his family was going through hard times drive him forward. “My family wondered where we would get our food, and the Salvation Army kept us from going hungry.” He adds that none of us know when a bad accident or illness means the loss of a job. Anyone can end up needing help.
The Berrys live in a humble house and do so much for our community. Bucky says, “We’re going to keep going at this until we die or Jesus comes back. We do it for the citizens of this community.”
As we get into the Thanksgiving and Christmas season and spirit, you can find a list of suggested items that work well to donate for community food drives, which Bucky put together. Go to http://www.findingharmonyblog.com. It will be posted November 4, 2022.
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Send stories or comments to anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Sidebar: Brent Berry Food Drive suggested items:
Proteins: canned chili; canned stews; soups; canned tuna, chicken, meat, or beef; powdered eggs; peanut butter, baked beans; canned nuts.
Grains: Cereal (hot or cold), rice, pasta products, oatmeal, pancake mix, flour, dried beans, crackers, mashed potatoes, granola bars.
Fruits: Canned fruit/fruit cups, dried fruit (raisins, plums, cranberries), applesauce, 100% juice and juice boxes, jams/jellys.
Vegetables: Canned vegetables, tomato products – spaghetti sauce, etc. V-8 juice
Dairy: Dry milk, evaporated milk, instant breakfast drinks, canned or boxed pudding
Other: sugar, vegetable oil, syrup, homey, salad dressing
Baby products: diapers, wipes, formula, infant cereal, Ensure
Hygiene Items: feminize products, hand sanitizer, toothbrushes, soap, shaving items
Another Way for week of October 21, 2022
The Fruit of All Creation
Have you ever studied a pear?
Me neither. But at a recent church retreat at the lovely Massanetta Springs retreat grounds, besides enjoying fantastic October weather, gold and red trees, and an hour of creative enjoyment, we had a brief meditation service. We were told to focus on objects we had with us or creative projects various members had worked on.
We had just eaten lunch and the pear I grabbed for dessert was not ready to eat (they ripen so slowly!) so I studied my pear. How does a pear grow, anyway? From a blossom of course, on a tree, but what first spawned the tree? Did they grow in the “Garden of Eden”? Are they native in North America?
A nature website in Wisconsin says this of pears: “The ancient Greek author Homer described them as ‘gifts from the gods’ likely due to their sweet, juicy flavor.” Another gardening website, gardeningknowhow.com says the way you start a pear tree is to put just one pear seed in a pot. Then “put the pot or pots in a sunny place and keep the ground moist. The seeds should germinate and produce green growth in three months. After the pear trees grow one foot tall, you can place them in the ground.”
They make it sound unbelievably simple but I doubt mine would grow so easily. They may have first grown in China where they are extremely popular, according to one source.
As I studied my pear—wishing I could chomp into it—I noticed that a star shaped blossom remained imprinted on the bottom of the pear. At the top is the place where the pear had once hung from a branch on the tree. There were scuffs and bruised places on the pear, a hallmark on most pieces of this quick-to-rot fruit. Pears do not ripen on the tree, the experts tell us.
Since this was a church meeting, I especially enjoyed the song we sang following our meditation:
“For the fruit of all creation, thanks be to God….
For the plowing, sowing, reaping,
Silent growth while we are sleeping,
Future needs in earth’s safekeeping, thanks be to God.”
It is sung to an old Welsh tune, “Sleep, My Child and Peace Attend Thee, All Through the Night.” You may have heard that lullaby as a child or sung it to your own child or children.
Pears, apples and peaches are some of my favorite fruits, all grown on trees in much the same manner as written above. That reminds me of an apple story my oldest daughter shared recently.
She was a bit surprised when her just-turned-four youngest son asked her while watching one of his brother’s baseball games, “Mommy, can I have the apple I packed?” Her four-year-old had packed himself a snack? She said she was like, “What?!” but soon surmised that “When you’re the third child, you pack your own snack in Mom’s bag for big brother’s baseball game.”
And way to look out for yourself, Edward.
But back to the pear. One resource says “The early Romans developed 50 varieties of pear and planted them across Europe. Pears are not native to the United States. The first tree was planted in the U.S. in 1620.” I’m sure no actual pear survived the long journey to North America, so I’m guessing someone brought a seed or perhaps small plant in a pot.
My husband is not a big pear fan (he loves apples and peaches though) so I more often buy those fruits than pears. So I will enjoy my solitary pear. In a few days!
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Studied an apple, or banana? Or an orange?? Let us hear thoughts on your favorite!
Or, did one of your children or grandchildren surprise you recently?
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Comment here or Send to anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of October 14, 2022
A Family Reunion Back the “Holler”
How does his family become your family? Or hers–yours? How can people you never knew growing up, become as precious as the cousins and aunts and uncles you knew as a little tyke?
My husband’s cousin, Johnny owns a piece of heaven. He and his wife Judy were happy to share it with the broader family recently, for our first family reunion in three years if my calculations are correct. (I’ll only use first names here.)
We headed out to the nearby Appalachian/Allegheny hills, and drove back a long long holler (holler: a small valley between some mountains or hills).
There’s a small creek and a still active spring of water near the old homestead. We packed our lawn chairs, our coolers, our old photos and bumped our way there on a beautiful September Sunday afternoon.
It was an emotional homecoming for me and even though I didn’t grow up playing in the creek back there or sipping from the spring, my husband’s family has become my wider family and I had to squeeze back some tears although I couldn’t have been much happier.
The other sentiment that surfaced for me was how my husband and I are now part of the older generation, because those older than us are all gone. Done with this life on earth, awaiting us in a better place. But I think they would have been emotional and happy too, to know we were gathering in the same space they did for so many years. Johnny’s father was named George and he and his wife Mae farmed there. George’s father, Perry lived there until Grandpa Perry needed to move to a daughter’s home near town for old age care. Stuart’s mother, Estella, grew up on the property there, though in a different house (which burned down) than the one shown in these photos.
I once wrote about the dinnerplate-sized dahlias you could find at Aunt Mae’s house. No dahlias are grown there anymore but Johnny still raises a few awesome huge vegetables in that ground. The kitchen and cookstove were the same that he grew up with, the living room and its potbelly stove were the same, even though the flooring underneath is weakening with the passage of time.
And so we were glad to watch the new little adorables toddling about, or cuddled napping in lawnchairs,
and racing down hillsides with plastic riding cars, or begging a 13-year-old cousin to wade in the somewhat muddy creek from recent rains.
My aunts and uncles are all gone now too, along with my mother who was the last surviving “aunt” for many in my “Indiana family.” The anniversary of her death last year, at the ripe age of 97, was October 11. She was seven years younger than my father, and he was the “baby” of his family, so there was considerable spread in the ages of the siblings in his family. (Below: George and May’s kitchen, cookstove, and potbellied stove in the living room.)
This year has brought a reckoning: how many years do my husband I have? Twenty years is a hope. Psalm 90:10 says most of us will live three score years and ten (about 70) or perhaps are lucky enough to live until 80. “But most of those years are filled with hard work and pain. They pass quickly and we fly away,” one Bible version puts it. However long or short the years may be, it is a time of summation. How many grandsons will I see graduate from high school, or marry, or have children of their own? Will we live to see great grandchildren, as many of my friends and relatives already have? (We began our family a bit late—not our fault but I would say by the mercy of God we finally had children.)
We all live because of the compassion of the Gracious One. I am thankful for the seventy years I’ve had and especially thankful for my extended family, both sides, scattered all over the U.S. Today we can connect by computer and Zoom, Facetime and Google. Nothing is better than a real live hug, but we’ll take the connections we can get!
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Did you have family get togethers or reunions this year? What things stood out?
Are there special places you love for the memories?
Comment here or write to me at anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com or Another Way, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books, most recently Memoir of an Unimagined Career. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of October 7, 2022
A Book for These Difficult Times
I recently read a most beautiful and unusual fiction book—a story about a blind girl, her father and uncle, and what happened to them during World War 2. A book about war that’s beautiful? Only in terms of how caring, giving, and faithful some folks are in the midst of such trauma. It is called All the Light that We Cannot See (Scribner, publisher).
It took the writer, Anthony Doerr, about ten years to write. If you read it you will see why in terms of the exacting research he did related to that dreadful period. The book, published in 2014, won a Pulitzer Prize.
The first unusual thing I spotted were short, short chapters, many only a page or even half a page long, some 3-4 pages. That makes for great bed-time reading because you can easily cut off your reading if you’re about to fall asleep. Doerr also doesn’t worry about complete sentences. He makes his sentences as short as he needs. So, you keep moving in the book.
But we also jump around a lot between main characters and then side characters in the book, so it was a little hard to keep track of who was what. The writer also zooms forward a time or two to the future, which didn’t help confusion. That was my biggest complaint, and maybe some of the dialogue—once we got among actual soldiers using language that you might expect of soldiers fighting a horrible war.
The book starts in 1944 with the sightless young Marie-Laure living with her uncle in Saint-Malo in the Brittany region of France. Named for a monk, Saint-Malo was built on a rock at a naturally defensive position near a river. The city goes back to before Roman times. In the introductory pages, Marie and her uncle are awaiting whatever comes next: annihilation? Death? Severe injuries?
Then we skip to 1934, and the back story where Marie-Laure is only six and her father works as locksmith for the Museum of Natural History in Paris. Her mother died giving birth to Marie-Laure. Eventually Marie completely loses her sight. But gradually dad and daughter adjust. He takes her along to work. He makes miniature wooden models of every house, store and apartment in their neighborhood of Paris, which Marie-Laure memorizes to help her navigate the city.
We also become acquainted with a German lad named Werner, seven, who in the 1930s, shows keen skills and interest in radio and short-wave technology. Werner and his sister are orphans who live in a children’s home. They look out for and love each other as siblings. We soon guess that Werner and Marie-Laure may eventually meet in this far-flung story.
As the book follows these characters through the difficult war years (rations, little to eat, keeping water in the bathtub to drink,) eventually Marie and her father move to live with her uncle at Saint-Malo which is deemed safer. Unfortunately, the war soon whisks her father off to prison leaving Marie bereft but always hoping he’ll be able to fulfill a promise that he will return.
In this year in which the world has experienced the outbreak of war and fighting in Ukraine, as I read this book my mind went to the thousands of children we saw (on TV) in warm winter jackets as they sought safety as refugees from the bombing and tanks and men being sent off to war. This time, instead of Germans advancing, we have Russia fighting for territory.
Reading this story of Marie-Laure, Werner, her father and uncle, I prayed anew for safety for children, mothers, and fathers involved in wars all over the world. We wonder: which children will lose a precious father or mother? How will everyone manage? Why oh why do good men (and women) have to fight for their country’s freedom? I cannot stomach war. We pray and pray. May it come to a quick and just end. And may women and men be as resilient and loving as Marie-Laure and her father and uncle.
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Do you read books about war? Or not? And why or why not?
Other thoughts? I’d love to hear from you here, or write to me at Another Way, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834, or email at anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of September 30, 2022
Stepping Up
Verna, a great storyteller and enthusiastic leader of the local Valley Girls Red Hat Society, had a handful of us gathered around her as we waited for our water exercise class to begin.
She recalled missing out on the very first meeting of the Red Hat Society, but went to the second one. “I wanted to join, but with the intention of just being there.” She certainly didn’t have in mind volunteering to help with major events and projects since her goal was just to “be” in the club.
“Then they brought up that they planned to participate in a local parade as a club, but needed a red truck,” Verna recalled, (to go with great red hats of course). Verna rolled her eyes and kind of squinted at us. “I said to myself, I’m not saying anything. I’m not saying anything,” she repeated.
But the club members kept talking and no one seemed to have a red truck in that group. So yes, Verna finally opened her mouth, kind of mumbling that she and her husband had a red truck. And yes, she could drive it. She shrugged her shoulders. Oh well.
Then someone said they’d need a trailer to pull behind the truck. Verna sighed inwardly, and kept quiet again until she finally admitted they had a trailer that was red. So of course, Verna had to help decorate the truck and trailer. Beautifully, she added. With plenty of red and purple hats on it, of course.
The club was all set for the parade but the next day our area woke up to snow. The parade was called off. Of course Verna had to help un-decorate it. She said eventually, they had the parade and all had a great time. In spite of wanting to stay quiet, she is always up for a new adventure.
As we age into retirement, many of us would prefer a back seat and just go along for the ride. But volunteers are needed in so many places and ways. Groups at church need helpers for just about any project they undertake or assist with, such as “Backpack Programs” which provide food for children in homes where they may not get very nutritious meals on weekends or other times.
I still remember how stunned I was 20 years ago talking to a local high school class on the topic of eating together as a family. I asked a simple question, “Who does the cooking in your family?” Their responses were mostly along the lines of “it’s each one for himself or herself,” they claimed, and I believed it. Many had afterschool jobs or parents who worked late into the evening.
Some churches offer food pantries or clothes closets—a great way to not only help with a need, but to meet members of the community who might have special needs. Other volunteer opportunities: helping at Thrift shops, reading to those who can no longer see very well, volunteer receptionists at hospitals, retirement centers, and nursing homes.
Scout leaders can use help—even if you no longer have children that age—in leading troops, events or helping out with activities.
Which reminds me that so many civic clubs are aging out—and need new blood and younger participants. Some nonprofit agencies and organizations also need office helpers or those who are willing to help with one or two day projects—along with long term regular volunteers. Plus, there are always older folks who need rides to church, events, or the doctor— so drivers are in much demand.
My husband is quick to step up to help repair homes that have been devastated by flooding, hurricanes, or tornadoes. But he has also volunteered as a Big Brother, and as a buddy for children at a day camp for children on the autism spectrum.
As retirees, we often use the worn out phrase “give back” for all the opportunities we’ve been given. Ironically, giving back often succeeds in giving us more blessings than we can count. Amazing, isn’t it?
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What volunteer opportunities have I forgotten here?
What are your favorite ways to “step up”?
Your stories or experiences? Send to anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com or Another Way Media, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834.
Another Way is a column by Melodie Davis, in syndication since 1987. She is the author of ten books. Another Way columns are posted at FindingHarmonyBlog.com a week after newspaper publication.
Another Way for week of September 23, 2022
My Three Daughters’ Meal Planning Tips
Third in a three-part series on keeping family dinner. And don’t miss the cookbook giveaway offer at the end.
When I asked my oldest daughter how she does meal planning, she laughed and said it was like, “Oh dear, it’s 5 o’clock! I have no idea what we are having for supper.” She easily handed off the meal planning crown to her younger sisters, who we’ll hear from in a bit.
Michelle does have a “retroactive manner” of getting ideas for what to fix next. She faithfully keeps track of what she’s made recently on a calendar, which helps her dig back in the fridge to use up leftovers before they spoil. Plus, as she looks back over a month’s meals, she spies things that are timely to make again. They have three sons, ages 4, 6 and almost 9. “I basically shop for staples every week,” Michelle adds. She keeps black beans, rice, lentils and frozen veggies always in stock. Her husband Brian cooks breakfast for the boys and washes dishes. AND cleans the house.
Tanya, our middle daughter, and her husband have two boys, ages 9 and 6. She writes: “We have a three-week rotation of meals. I keep a notebook with shopping lists for a running calendar of dinner entrees. Sometimes I plan two weeks out (but only buy groceries for the immediate week). All I put in the notebook is the main course: Sun Aug 28 Lasagna; Mon Aug 29 Grilled Chicken; Tues Aug 30 Sloppy Joes, and so on. The notebook helps me make sure I buy necessary ingredients to make entrees, for things I don’t usually keep on hand. It also reminds me of how many/types of proteins to buy (ground beef, usually two packages, chicken tenders, cottage cheese, etc.). I can also look back and see, oh we haven’t had chili for three weeks, we’ll have that again this week. We generally grill something twice a week in the summer. We buy takeout pizza every other Friday night.”
She points out “a big factor in meal planning is thinking through the family schedule for the week. Since Jon gets home earlier, he can now cook about 30 percent of our repertoire and make a few entire meals, plus get started cutting chicken up or put things in the oven if it’s something I made early morning (meatloaf, chicken that has been marinating, etc.). If we have baseball, Scouts, or other activities in the evening and I have to commute, I schedule a meal that Jon can make all by himself or a frozen lasagna I made previously. More extensive/laborious meals I usually plan for Saturdays or Sundays when I have time for things like lasagna, fajitas, stuffed peppers. I generally keep a stock of side dishes like rice, pasta, frozen vegetables which I don’t plan in advance.”
Youngest daughter Doreen says she and her husband Ahmed have tried the meal app, “Eat This Much” which was originally designed for very strict portions and diet requirements. “It’s a good tool for meal planning—including shopping lists, but if you’re not good about sticking to it (by eating out or eating other things in your pantry because you’re ‘not in the mood’ for that food) then you end up with more groceries than you need. So I’ve utilized it more for meal ideas for the week and pick and choose which ones I do.” She also checks what’s on sale in weekly circulars. “Sometimes there are whole meals on sale: you buy a pound of ground beef, and get the taco shells, taco mix, lettuce, tomato and cheese for like a dollar each.” She also has a list of entrees she makes and checks occasionally for things they haven’t had in a while.
She adds, “I also enter oddball stuff on my phone that I don’t buy every week but don’t want to forget like toilet paper, salt, toothpaste, etc.” Michelle also uses a free app “Out of Milk” and appreciates that it saves what she’s put on the list in the past, “so sometimes I can just run through the old items and check them off as ‘yes, I need that.’”
I am happy that my daughters manage as much cooking as they do, and all working full time—and they mostly figured out their own preferred routines—with not much help from Mom. I do love it when they call with a cooking question—and I’m reminded of the busy busy lives they lead.
I’m giving away FREE copies (as long as they last) of my 2010 cookbook Whatever Happened to Dinner: Recipes and Reflections for Family Mealtime. Just pay shipping of $3.00. Send cash or check and your request to: Another Way, P.O. Box 363, Singers Glen, VA 22834. Or email me at anotherwaymedia@yahoo.com
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