Well Done!

I am as guilty as the next person for bemoaning the fact that the U. S. Government can’t ever seem to get a job done efficiently. So it is not often that we have a real reason to congratulate government employees for a job well done.

But I have experienced the exception that proves the rule – I know it‘s a cliché – but I really have had an exceptional experience at the hands of unknown government employees.

I mailed my passport renewal application by standard U. S. Postal Mail on Thursday, December 29, 2011. Allowing for the New Year’s Day holiday the application could not have been received in Philadelphia any sooner than Tuesday, January 3, 2012. I did not use priority mail, I did not request expedited service; I simply put the paperwork and the check in the envelope on the mail box on my front porch for pickup by my local postal person. I didn’t even take the envelope to the local post office.

My renewal passport was issued on Monday, January 9, 2012, seven days from the earliest possible application receipt date, and it was delivered into my possession today, Thursday, January 12, 2012. Exactly two weeks from the date I mailed my application.

Had I needed my passport for an upcoming trip it would have taken the five to seven weeks processing time reflected on the Department of State website. But I have no imminent plans to travel. I just sent my renewal in because my previous passport expired in March and I didn’t want to be without the ability to travel on short notice should the opportunity arise.

I am certain there is some lesson to be learned from this experience, but I can’t tell you what it is. I can only say thank you to the unsung heroes of the postal service who managed to get my application from West Coast to East Coast in a timely manner and to the passport service employee or employees who processed my application so quickly.

If you personally know any postal employees or passport service employees please pass my thanks on to them as I am certain they will never see this blog.

If you read this blog, please leave a comment. I never know if there is anyone out there.

Live long and prosper!

EARTHQUAKE WEATHER

Moderate temperature, neither hot nor cold; slightly increase humidity, not like Texas or Florida, but just a little bit sticky; funny color sky, neither blue nor gray, but a bit of both; and still air, so very still, no breeze, no tremble of leaves on the trees, no movement, just still. That is the description of what people in the San Francisco Bay Area call earthquake weather. Pets get a little bit edgy, they seem more alert, and there is a sense of waiting. It is most frequently experienced in April and October. That is what today was like and the date is October 14.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not forecasting an earthquake, I am only saying that today was still and a bit eerie. So if some time in the next week we see a significant earthquake in northern California, remember you read about it here first.

As for me, I am doing very well. I still require oxygen, but not as much and not constantly. If I am sitting quietly reading or writing I am able to go without my tether for hours. I am not yet up to strenuous work without supplemental air, but as long as I don’t exert myself I am fine. And we all know I am capable of not exerting myself. I can ‘not’ exert for long periods of time, with no effort at all.

I don’t need to exert myself to prepare dinner, so many people have provided me with ready to nuke meals (I can’t use the stove top because of the oxygen), I will have forgotten how to cook when I am fully recovered. Rosann brought me delicious homemade chicken and rice soup that fed me for almost a week. Julie brought me scrumptious homemade sausage lasagna that I enjoyed for four or five days. Today Cindy brought me a wonderful chicken casserole that she and Paula put together for me last night that will provide at least four servings.

My dining room looks like a florist shop or a nursery. Shortly before I went into the hospital I bought myself an orchid plant. It has survived in spite of my black thumb – probably because I wasn’t here to overwater it. Julie brought me stargazer lilies in the hospital. Kathy brought me a live plant of lilies. The flowers are like small calla lilies but in a gorgeous purple. (If anyone knows what kind of plant that is, please tell me.) I haven’t killed that plant either. This morning the FTD man brought me a huge bouquet of flowers from my son, daughter-in-law, and grandsons in honor of my birthday. This afternoon Suzanne, a friend from my days at City of Pleasanton, came by with a lovely pink begonia plant.

Everyone is offering to drive me wherever I wish to go. They seem disappointed when I tell them that the doctor has cleared me to drive and I am no longer considered house-bound.

And my friend, Penny, has served above and beyond. She has shopped for me, dusted furniture, vacuumed floors, helped me relocate furniture, and made beds. What makes this special is that Penny hates housework as much as I do, and she has been doing it at my house.

I have been blessed with an outpouring of caring and kindness and it is not because I am special, it is because my friends are.

Live long and prosper!

Not Wonder Woman!

How disappointing. I have discovered I am not Wonder Woman. I assumed I could come home from the hospital, take a couple of days of R&R and resume my prior lifestyle. Wrong!

I can barely empty my dishwasher. Sweep the floors, vacuum …no way! I can’t even make my bed in the morning. Of course, I never was Martha Stewart, but now I have an excuse to lie around all day. It doesn’t look as if I will be getting back to my clutter fighting project – search and destroy – any time soon.

I looked up Pulmonary Embolism on the internet and learned just how sick I was. None of the doctors or nurses managed to impress on me just how serious my condition was. They were too busy trying to save my life. Probably just as well, I might have died of fright if I had known.

What really impressed me as I read about the condition is that much of the time it is misdiagnosed and the patient dies as a result of not receiving timely intervention. The ER doctor at Kaiser had a preliminary diagnosis of PE in less than an hour. Treatment with blood thinners was started, once the diagnosis was confirmed, only a short time after I arrived. It is true, God sends His angels to protect fools and small children. And we all know I am not a small child.

Thanks to all my friends who have pitched in with food and transportation, it doesn’t appear that I will miss outside events that I am physically capable of attending. I just need to restructure my expectations.

Live long and prosper!

All the gory details, part 3

Saturday, October 1st dawned overcast and grey. I was feeling yet much improved from the prior day. I had gone for twenty-four hours without a pain pill. The doctor stopped by and confirmed she was discharging me. A nurse appeared and told me I would be able to leave about noon. My friend Penny phoned and I asked her to pick me up at twelve noon.

Talk about a circus. In the late morning, a priest from St. Mary’s came by to bring me Eucharist. He anointed me with the sacrament of the sick. He had no sooner left than my friend Violet phoned to check on me. While I was on the phone with Violet my doctor appeared to give me my discharge instructions. So I had to hang up on Vi. While with the doctor, someone else came in to give me more discharge information. The phone rang and it was Vi, she thought she had hung up on me. The nurse was telling me that Apria Health Care Services would be delivering oxygen to my house between 12:00 and 4:00 p.m. The pharmacy had a question about my discharge drugs; food service arrived and asked if I wanted lunch. (I said yes, who knew when this farce would end.) My friend Penny arrived to drive me home and I am certain she wondered how good medicine could result from this chaos. It does, it really does. Then the nurse arrived again to tell me Apria was at my house ready to deliver my oxygen. The nurse told them to return at 2:00 p.m. I would be home by then.

At 1:15 pm Penny and I are telling the medical staff I need to leave if I am to be home by 2:00 p.m. to sign for the oxygen delivery. Remember I am recovering from a serious medical trauma; I need peace and tranquility to recover.

A candy striper arrives with a wheelchair to transport me downstairs and outside. But no one has told her that the wheelchair needs to transport oxygen as well. So down she goes to get another wheelchair properly equipped. She arrives with the wheelchair but then remembers that because she is a minor she is not allowed to transport hazardous material (oxygen). So in the interest of getting me out of the hospital the charge nurse gets behind my wheel chair and out we go.

When Penny and I arrive at my house, the Apria truck is sitting in front of the house. We check our watches; it is not yet 2:00 p.m. We are not late; they are early. The comedy of errors is about to come to a close. Four additional oxygen tanks are delivered into the house. The oxygen concentrator is brought in and installed. The sign “Oxygen is Use – No Smoking” is posted on the front window. I have fifty or eighty feet of tubeing that allows me to go anywhere in the house without moving the concentrator. When I leave the house I will use one of the tanks that have been delivered. I cannot turn on the burners of my stove or my oven. I must cook using my microwave or my George Foreman grill. No open flame. I wear the oxygen twenty-four seven. I am not allowed to drive. I cannot shower unless there is someone in the house who can call 911 if I go down again. I am totally dependent upon my friends and neighbors. I am on prayer lists all over the country. I am blessed to be surrounded by so many good people both from my church and from my writers’ group. I love them all.

All the gory details, part 2

Thursday, September 29th, I awoke feeling significantly better. I wasn’t ready to run a marathon, but I no longer felt I needed to be fitted for a casket. I actually felt well enough to be concerned about my appearance, so I ran a comb through my hair. I discovered that my long spell of unconsciousness was not due entirely to my black-out. I had done significant damage to my scull when that part of me made contact with the tile floor. I had an abrasion at the hair line, two large bumps under my hair, and a black eye. When the doctor came in that morning, I reported my discovery to her. Back down for a brain scan to make certain I wasn’t bleeding into my cranium while they were feeding me blood thinners. Bear in mind that everywhere I went in the hospital I went with an IV connected, oxygen, and a heart monitor. I was able to walk, with assistance, from my bed in the hospital room to the gurney in the hallway but I had all this hardware I was carrying along. The CT scan discovered that my hard head had protected my marginal brain, and I was no more scrambled that usual.

My day was brightened by a phone call from my daughter and a visit by a deacon from St. Mary’s in Walnut Creek who brought me Eucharist and prayed with me. My daughter’s call enhanced my emotional well-being. The Eucharist enhanced my spiritual well-being. Lest any of my friends who phoned and visited think I have forgotten their contribution to my well-being, I know they did bring me joy and healing, I just don’t remember on which day. My brain was and is still scrambled.

Friday, September 30th, I awoke feeling even better than the day before. I was improving by leaps and bounds (I don’t want any of my writer friends criticizing my use of clichés). It still took large amounts of concentration to remember what day of the week it was when the nurses asked; thank God they didn’t want to know the date as well. I continued to have a half dozen blood draws a day. I have more bruises (from needles) than the survivor of a multi-car accident. Children turn away from me in horror thinking I must be a monster of some sort.

When I saw the doctor in the late morning she told me she was thinking of discharging me late that afternoon and sending me home. I told her I was not ready to go home that afternoon, but would like to be discharged the following morning. She agreed, so I got one last night of being waited upon.

All the gory details, part 1

Even I get bored listening to the story of my pulmonary embolism over and over again. So I am going to tell it once, as completely as I can remember, and you may read or not read depending upon your interest.

My first recognized symptoms began on Monday, September 26th, in the early evening. Was it six o’clock or seven? I don’t know. Since I didn’t anticipate it to be the beginning of a life changing event, I didn’t make a special note of the time. Suffice it to say it was early Monday evening. I began to experience a pain that felt like a cracked rib on my left side. The pain was moderate but bearable so I tended to ignore it. I slept poorly that night and still had the pain in the morning.

The pain worsened on Tuesday, September 27th, but I still managed to attend a Weight Watchers meeting at 5:45 p.m. Tuesday evenings, after WW, Penny and I usually go to dinner at Applebee’s. We have a full week until our next weigh-in. But that evening I begged off and we went on home. Penny drove my car as far as her house (I have to be feeling bad to give someone else my car keys) and then I drove the last two miles to my house on untraveled back streets. I made it home, grabbed a light snack and dressed for bed, intending to make it an early night. When I lay flat on the bed the pain was so bad I had to get up. I headed for the recliner where I spent many a night while nursing Joe. At this point I started to think about calling for an ambulance. But I didn’t know what I could tell them other than I hurt. I dozed off and on in the recliner until I came awake at midnight.

Wednesday, September 28th, barely awake I struggled to the bathroom to relieve my bladder. I sat down on the commode. The next thing I knew it was five minutes later and I was nose down on the bathroom floor. My first thought is what am I doing on the floor? As I attempted to get up the pain was so debilitating that I didn’t think I would be able to get off the floor and out of the bathroom. I am very grateful that the bathroom is handicap accessible because I was able to use the grab bars next to the toilet and on the wall to pull myself to my feet. There was no question I would call for an ambulance. As I made my way back to the recliner, I turned on the porch light and unlocked the front door. I slipped my feet into the canvas slip-ons that I wear for slippers, collapsed into the recliner, picked up phone, and dialed 911.

“911 Operator, what is your emergency?”

“I need an ambulance,” I responded. We went through the address thing, then my symptoms and finally I was assured than an ambulance was seconds away.

When the knock came on the door, I tried to respond. But between the solid core door and my weak voice, the EMTs and the ambulance crew couldn’t hear me. But they pushed the door open and I assured then they were in the right place. They put the BP cuff on me, asked a few questions, and soon I was on the gurney. They turned off my inside lights, I managed to lock the front door, and then I was down the ramp and being loaded into the ambulance. The fire department EMTs cleared me for transport and the ambulance pulled away from the house.

I drifted in and out of consciousness and only came alert when I was being wheeled into the ER. I had nurses and an ER technician attaching leads to my body and the BP cuff to my arm. Then I was wheeled into x-ray to determine if my ribs were broken. They weren’t. But my lungs appeared clouded on the x-ray. The ER doctor had a preliminary diagnosis in mind when she sent me down for a CT scan of my lungs. When I finally got back to my cell in the ER and the doctor returned I asked her if I would be going home.

She replied, “Not anytime soon.”

She then told me I had a pulmonary embolism and I wouldn’t be going home until they pulled me back from the brink. They started me on Norco for pain, Coumadin to thin the clots, and an antibiotic to prevent infection. They admitted me even though they didn’t have a bed for me - they needed to wait for another patient to be discharged. After starting on the Norco I drifted out of consciousness. I awoke when they moved me into a bed in the medical wing.

I knew I needed to contact some people to take care of the cat and my mail. I had deadlines I was going to miss and I needed to let people know I was down but not out. While the deadlines would be missed, the submissions would be made late rather than never. I turned on my cell phone and brought up my address book. My cell phone does not hold a charge so I had only minutes to write down important contact phone numbers. I called my friend Penny to tell her we wouldn’t be walking our two miles that morning. I gave Penny the pet sitter’s phone numbers and asked her to tell Teri I was hospitalized and request that she look after Red. I called the only CWC member whose phone number was in my cell, because we had car pooled a few times, to let the club board know that the newsletter was going to be significantly late. Then I phoned my daughter so that a family member would know I was very ill but planned to recover. After that last phone call I zonked out.

At some point an x-ray technician appeared with a portable x-ray machine to take another picture of my lungs. I had an ultrasound of my legs to see if there were any clots lingering in wait to attack my lungs; none were found. I assured everyone for the fourth time that I had not recently taken a long airplane flight or a long road trip. I had not been sitting for an extended period with my legs immobile. I walk for one full hour, four days a week, a distance over two miles. I am not a couch potato, I do not smoke, I eat healthy, and I don’t engage in high risk activities or non-activities.

When the doctor came in late Wednesday afternoon I asked her to stop the Norco. The medication left my brains scrambled. She agreed to change from the Norco to Vicodin which is only half the strength of the Norco.

Wednesday night was Grand Central Station for the entire swing and grave yard shift. I would drift off to sleep then awake suddenly with a body standing over me. They would always apologize for startling me. They would check my IV or my oxygen, take my blood pressure, ask if I needed anything. “Yes, please, I would like to sleep longer than thirty minutes without interruption.”

Memorial Day 2011

Memorial Day is a day dedicated to remembering those who died in service to our country.

While every war has its opponents: people who don’t believe in the cause, don’t believe the US should be involved in a particular place, or people who are opposed to any war in principle. Those opponents must not ignore the sacrifice made for us by those who served and died. The very freedom that allows people to protest and to burn the American flag if they so choose was won by those who fought and died in defense of that freedom. Nor should we forget those who fought and are still living.

Having been an Air Force wife during Viet Nam, I knew some of those young men and women who gave their lives or returned home damaged in mind or body. I won’t say that I support one war or oppose another. My feelings about the current conflicts in the world are of no importance. What is important is that we salute our service men and women, those who have died, and those who were willing to die, who strive to ensure that we do have the freedom to worship as we choose, to vote as we choose, to protest as we choose.

We have a moral obligation to take care of those whose minds and bodies were broken by going to war in our defense. While parents and loved ones mourn the death of their fallen warriors, those warriors may be the lucky ones, their suffering is over. What are we as a country doing for those who have returned to us wishing they had died, preferring death to the hell in which they are currently living. Every day, in every large city and a few smaller ones, we see those wounded warriors living in poverty, despised as the dregs of humanity.

We are not the first country to abandon those to whom we owe so much. Rome did as much to their returning warriors after the campaign against Hannibal. England was as bad or worse in their treatment of returning soldiers after the Napoleonic Wars. Are we destined to repeat the sins of the past? Can we not learn from the mistakes of others.

I won't pretend to know the answers. I don't know exactly what it is we should do to correct this outrageous wrong. But we should do something. We have a bi-lateral Congress of the USA, senators and representatives who should make it their priority to find a solution for these issues.

So if I can urge you to take one step, as a free member of a free democratic society, contact your congress person and your senator, and urge them to address this shame that confronts America, protest any decisions to reduce funds dedicated to helping our wounded warriors. We have survivors of many wars in our midst, survivors of World War II, of the Korean conflict, of Viet Nam, of Desert Storm, of Afghanistan and of Iraq.

Ask yourself, while you are thinking of your loved ones who surrendered their lives for our country, what are we doing for those who are dying a slower and more painful death because they are abandoned by the very country for which they gave their best.

Live long and prosper

Better Late than Never

I intended to blog immediately after returning from Denver. Man plans, God laughs. I have no idea how I ever had time to work for all those years. One of my children (who shall remain nameless) even cautioned me against retiring because I would be bored out of my mind. Needless to say, that child was wrong.

I landed in Denver on Tuesday evening, shortly before DIA was closed due to a thunder and lightning storm. Another member of my aunt’s family was arriving later that evening and was diverted to Colorado Springs.

That storm intensified, got colder, lost the fireworks, and rained for the next two days straight. I had anticipated rain, but not below freezing temperatures. The clothes I had brought for the memorial Mass were not really weather appropriate. But it was just as well, because all of the indoor venues were too warm anyway.

After Mass we went in a funeral procession to the columbarium where my aunt’s remains were entombed in the niche with her husband and son. She was the very last of my parents’ generation to pass. It is sobering to think I am now a member of my family’s existing senior generation.

I am very glad I made the effort to be present. I was the only Wadleigh (my maiden name) to be present. None of my cousins, my uncle’s other nieces or nephews, were able to travel to Denver. The other family members present were my aunt’s brother and his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.

My efforts were rewarded in a very special way. I was given a restored photograph of my grandparents’ wedding picture taken in 1904. It is a precious keepsake that I will pass on to my daughter. I brought home some other photo albums in my suitcase, but this picture I carried with me lest my luggage be lost and this picture with it.

I returned from Denver on Thursday afternoon. When I departed there was snow on the ground at DIA which wasn’t there when I arrived. Of course, I didn’t return to the sunny warm weather I left behind, but instead it has been wet and cold since I have been home. But since weather travels from west to east I can’t be held responsible for our current climate in the Bay Area.

Live long and prosper!

Any man's death diminishes me

Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind  John Donne

Don’t misunderstand me. I am happy that the threat represented by Osama Bin Laden has been removed. But I am unable to celebrate his death. How do those citizens, who parade with banners and demonstrate in the streets of New York and D.C. because of his execution, differ from Muslims in the Middle East who did the very same thing on 9-11?

How can we hope that the removal of a terrorist threat will bring peace to our world when we exhibit the same kind of hatred, bigotry, and intolerance that was the excuse for 9-11? Are we making Bin Laden a martyr for the Islamic extremists to emulate? Will they try harder to accomplish his vision - destruction of the western world’s ‘War on Islam’?

I don’t pretend to understand how terrorists justify the murder of non-combatants or why Islamic extremists believe the west is out to destroy their religion and their way of life. But it may just be because out culture has been guilty of exactly that when it comes to other ethnic groups who differ from us.

Examples include the plight of Native Americans at the hands of European immigrants; the efforts of the allied nations to subdue Turkey and partition the country for the enrichment of the member nations; the effort to destroy the Jews by Hitler’s Arian Germany. Yes, I am aware of the support of some Muslims of Germany’s efforts.

If everyone would take just one step back from the brink, stop playing the blame game, and pray for peace to whatever deity they worship, the human race might survive. Does that mean that fear and hatred will ceased to exist? Unfortunately not; there will always be people who are certain that they speak for God – whatever her name may be – but the majority of right thinking human beings hopefully will outnumber the fringe element.

Pray for peace.

Live long and prosper!

Blue Jays – Nature’s Nags

Spring appears to have found its way to our part of California. The weather is warm and sunny, with the thermometer climbing just a bit more each day. I have turned off the furnace, and I leave the patio door open to enjoy the fresh air. When it gets too warm, I open a window on the north side of the house to create a cross breeze.

My cat, Sir Isaac Newton, commonly referred to as Red, takes advantage of the opportunity to wander in and out of the house as he pleases. His little bit of paradise (our back yard), however, has been invaded by a blue jay, actually two blue jays. But only one is an unconscionable heckler. She (I assume the female of the species) takes great pleasure in squawking harshly every time Red comes into the yard. If given the opportunity she dives on him. I have put his outside water dish under a table so that he can drink without putting one of his nine lives at risk.

But Red is not the only one disturbed by her appearance. I watch and hear the squirrels scolding the jay as her presence threatens their access to our trees. This morning, while Mrs. Jay was heckling Red, Mr. Jay was diving on a squirrel taking shelter on a power pole. The reason I know he is the “mister” is because he stirs himself infrequently. He leaves the bulk of the work to her.

I understand the instinctive behavior of protecting the nest. I have seen the two birds attack a crow that has dared to invade our back yard air space. Now crows really are raiders, and wouldn’t think twice (do crows think?) about destroying a nest and poking holes in the eggs. I have seen them do as much to a dove’s nest. So my suggestion to Mr. and Mrs. Jay is to concentrate their protective instincts against crows and not my poor cat who is too lazy to think about climbing a tree or attacking a nest. Who, when the heckling gets too bothersome, comes into my office and naps in his basket.

Live long and prosper!

A Worthy Cause

Visit this website today and every day and vote for Cat House on the Kings.

To determine for yourself if this is a worthy cause check out their website http://www.cathouseonthekings.com/

Too Much of a Good Thing

How much salt (sodium chloride NaCl) does the human body require? A generally agreed upon amount required is 1.5g (1500mg). Is the consumption of more than 1.5g unhealthy? It depends upon a person’s physiology. Some individuals can safely consume up to 2.3g (2300mg) daily. So it becomes a matter of choice. But does it really?

Since I only buy 'no salt added' or 'low salt' processed foods I can’t go to my pantry and pull out examples of high sodium processed foods. Go, however, to any restaurant menu on-line, look up the nutrition information and you will see, if you choose to eat out, you have little choice.

A single slice from a 14 inch Meat Lover’s® pizza from Pizza Hut contains between 1180mg and 1210mg of sodium. Who eats only one slice? I have stopped going to Applebee’s even though I like their selections and prices. There are at least three items on their menu that top 5000mg of sodium. The vast majority meets or exceeds the 2300mg maximum sodium content for an entire day, and for someone who needs to maintain 1500mg, forget it. How about fast food from the local burger joint? This may be a safer choice; McDonald’s offers a plain hamburger for 550mg sodium, but watch out for the Angus Bacon and Cheeseburger at 2070mg. Burger King offers the Whopper Jr. without mayonnaise at 440mg sodium. Wendy’s has a Jr. Hamburger with 480mg sodium. At all three locations you must be careful of breakfast offering and salads. Frozen entrées from the three leading manufacturers average between 550mg and 700mg of sodium. Don’t even ask about full meals, some can have sodium content exceeding 1000mg.

So what got me started on this particular tirade? It is not just the health problems associated with excess sodium; I am concerned about my appearance as well. When I look in the mirror on the morning after a nice meal at a nice restaurant I look like a blimp. Water retention causes me to gain weight and look fat. I can always add salt at the table if I choose, so why must chefs and food manufacturers add so much in preparation?

The best way to bring about change is to squeeze the bottom line. If you agree with me, vote with your wallet. Stop buying products where you are paying top dollar for such a cheap ingredient, and one, that in excess, can be harmful to your health.

Live long and prosper!

Blog's Resurrection

Since Easter is the beginning of new life, I thought perhaps the time has come for me to resurrect my blog. The problem with blogs, however, is that they take time to write; I have been spending my time writing other things and meeting newsletter deadlines.

Letters to Ethan: Joe’s Story was published in January so I also have spent time selling copies. The book will never be on the bestsellers’ list but is a good read I want to share with others. So if you haven’t already purchased your copy, then hop right on over to Xlibris.com and buy the paperback today.

On a less commercial note, I am struggling to keep up the maintenance on my house without a man around to help. Before Joe died, even if he was physically unable to do maintenance chores, he could advise me or vet a prospective contractor. John, too, was helpful when he still lived in-state. I hate to admit that there are some things that men do better than women, so I won’t. If any of my readers are, or know someone who is: honest, capable, efficient, and charges reasonable prices for handyman chores – please leave word in the comments section.

On Saturday, I taught a writing workshop at the Dublin Senior Center. I may be asked to do another. I don’t make any money doing these, but since I drive less than two miles to get there, even the high cost of gas isn't a burden. I enjoy working with people who want to write whether for their own pleasure or for publication. I love seeing eyes brighten when someone discovers they 'get' a concept. That’s all the reward I need.

I am always looking for ideas to write about, so if you think of something you would like to see in my blog, let me know.

Live long and prosper!

Day 5

Assos to Akhisar, Tuesday, June 22, 2010: After breakfast, we boarded our tour bus and departed somewhere around 8:00 a.m. for our first stop at Bergama. We visited the archeological sites of the Pergamum Acropolis and Asklepion. The Acropolis was the site of temples to Zeus, Athena, Trajan and others. Another structure of interest is the Library at Pergamum, which rivaled the Egyptian Library at Alexandria. Because of this rivalry the Egyptians stopped exporting papyrus to Pergamum. The Pergamenes invented a paper - from treated animal skin - parchment which led the invention of paged books. The parchment derived its name from the word "Pergamum" and had so many advantages that in time books replaced scrolls.

Things this acropolis has in common with all the others we visited are uneven walking surfaces and massive stairs. The top level of excavation of most of the ruins we visited tended to be structures built by the Roman Empire or converted by the Romans from structures built by earlier civilizations. At that point in time, the average Roman stood about 5’4”. So why do the marble stairs they constructed all have risers of 12 to 18 inches? One needs to be a mountain goat to ascend and descend. Perhaps it was one of many defense mechanisms. An acropolis is built at the highest point in the area. They were walled and approaching them was difficult. These cities were destroyed either by earthquake or fire, which is why there are so many layers of different cultures, city after city built upon the ruins of another.

Below the Pergamum Acropolis is the Asklepion which is a famed ancient medical center built in honor of Asklepios, the god of healing. Treatments included psychotherapy, massage, herbal remedies, mud and bathing treatments, the interpretation of dreams, and the drinking of the water. Patients brought offerings, usually representing the part of the body requiring healing. A holistic approach was used recognizing that spirit, mind, and body each influence the others. I was very impressed with what these ancient physicians were able to accomplish.

When we left the sites at Pergamum it was time for lunch, so our next stop was Densen Halicilik Carpet Weavers Association co-operative. We had the opportunity to view cocoons spun by silkworms, being processed into silk thread and then spun into yarn. We saw a variety of yarns wool, cotton, and silk which were dyed using only natural vegetable dyes. We watched the weavers create the Turkish carpets which are so beautiful. Then were fed a light lunch while we we viewed magnificent carpets, one by one. After viewing handmade carpets and the labor that goes into creating one, it is understandable why these creations are so costly. A large carpet may take up to six years to weave. The first one that caught my attention, silk on silk, was $26,000. Since it was out of my price range, I settled for cotton on cotton, measuring 18" by 24", at a cost of $400. My heirs will be able to sell it at a good profit. Our group of 22 tourists bought a number of carpets that day. 90% of the proceeds go directly to the weavers. The co-op operating expenses are subsidized by the Turkish government, so the profit goes to the artisans.

After a very full day with many worthwhile experiences we spent the night at the Palm City Hotel in Akhisar. This resting place left much to be desired. Our guide, Mahmet, assured us he would recommend that the tour company not use this hotel in future.

Day 4

Istanbul to Assos, Monday, June 21, 2010: After breakfast and after loading our luggage onto our tour bus we departed at about 8:00 a.m. Once we escaped Istanbul, we drove west on the northern coast of the Sea of Marmara through Thrace to the port of Eceabat on the Gallipoli peninsula. The highways were excellent and lightly traveled the farther west we went. We caught occasional glimpses of the sea to the south, but mostly we saw flat and rolling agricultural areas; very peaceful lands upon which many bloody battles have been fought. After about five hours on the road, we ate a quick lunch at a restaurant near the ferry terminal and then walked aboard the boat for the trip across the Dardanelles.

The crossing took about 20 minutes. When we walked ashore at Canakkale, I took my second header. We were walking up the pier from the ferry to avoid being run over by the lorries and buses disembarking. Once again I was so busy looking at the sights around me instead of looking where I was placing my feet, that I tripped over a curb. This time I had a good audience of at least ten of my group. After I assured everyone that I had only suffered scrapes and bruises and no broken bones we moved ahead to where we could board our bus. After that, for the remainder of the tour, there was always someone nearby to keep me on my feet. I am not certain how they decided whose turn it would be each day, and if I did find myself alone it was not for long.

Our first stop in Asia Minor was the ruins of the cities of Troy. It is believed that there have been at least nine cities built upon the site. Early archeologists did severe damage to artifacts on some of the levels of excavation. But general opinion is that the level VII is the Troy of Homer’s epic poem. The most visible ruins are of level IX, the Roman city of Ilium. Everywhere we went, the Roman Empire has built upon and covered the ruins of earlier civilizations.

Our next visit was to Alexandria Troas. This city was built in the 4th century BCE and named after Alexander the Great. It has not been excavated to the extent of many other sites in Asia Minor. The Apostle Paul is known to have visited there in the 1st century CE.

Next we move onto the topic of restrooms, or as they are referred to in Turkey, the W.C. You will understand that the upkeep of a W.C. is not a high priority in Turkey. I won’t go into graphic description, but let it be said that the facilities in many a W.C . were mere holes in the ground, and those which actually provided a toilet stool were barely any better. However at our first rest stop in Asia Minor we were delighted with restrooms worthy of Disneyland. They were clean, each stall had a door and a stool, the interior finish was tile and marble, and the decor included flowers and Disney characters. We ladies were so excited at this turn of events we felt it necessary to take photos of the W.C.

Our overnight stop was at Hotel Eden Gardens in Assos. Our rooms were comfortable and each endowed with a balcony type veranda, the doors to which I and my roommate kept open all night. We enjoyed the sea breezes. We were footsteps away from the Aegean Sea. After 4 days of hard travel, it truly was Eden.

Reflections on Istanbul

Istanbul is the 5th largest city in the world with a population of 12.8 million. The city spans two continents, Europe and Asia, and two eras, BCE and CE. Istanbul is the old cities of Byzantium and Constantinople and a young modern-thinking city with an appreciation for all things western.

The people are predominately Muslim. Indeed, there are mosques visible in every direction and you can hear the call to prayer wherever you may be. But Istanbul is a secular city insuring freedom of worship to all. There are both Catholic and Orthodox churches in the city and even a few Protestant congregations.

Friendly and helpful,most Turks speak a little English. The language is taught in Turkish schools beginning in first grade. There is a presence of armed military, but not as prevalent as in Mexico. While the soldiers are not smiling and friendly, neither do you feel threatened by them.

Turks are very proud of their republic. Mustafa Kemal Atatürk fought first in the Ottoman military, working his way up through the ranks. Resigning from the Ottoman Army in 1919, because of his opposition to the partition of Turkey, he then went on to lead the war for independence against the allied armies of Great Britain, Italy, France, and Greece. He is revered as the Father of the Turkish Republic, in much the same way that George Washington is revered as the Father of our Country. The Republic of Turkey was officially established on October 29, 1923. There are numerous statues and portraits of Atatürk throughout the city of Istanbul.

The Turks are a merchant people. You can find everything under the sun for sale (except pork). No liquor stores on the corners, but hotels all have bars serving a wide variety of alcoholic choices. On our tour bus, we drove along a street in Istanbul, Fevzipasa Caddesi, with at least a hundred shops selling formals and wedding gowns. When we inquired of our guide, Mahmet, how there could be a market for so many gorgeous gowns, he explained that a Muslin bride also desires to be beautiful on her wedding day.

Cats! There are cats everywhere in Istanbul. Highly respected in Islam, cats are like holy animals in Turkey, much like cows in India. No single person’s pets, they breed indiscriminately, they receive no veterinary care, but they are friendly, inquisitive and always looking for a hand out. Only a few appear overfed, and indeed some are pathetically thin. Their primary duty is to keep the rodent population under control. We saw mostly teenagers and young adults, but occasionally a mature adult was to be seen basking in the sun.

I enjoyed my stay in Istanbul, much as I would enjoy a stay in New York or Paris. Big cities around the world have more in common than whatever differences might exist among them. Istanbul, the end of the line for the fabled Orient Express, has the mystery of the Middle East and many of the conveniences of the West.

Two days in Istanbul were too few; two weeks would be better.

Day 3

Istanbul, Sunday, June 20, 2010: We were up early, ate a Turkish continental breakfast: Watermelon, fruit, cheese, olives, tomatoes, yogurt, hard cooked eggs (I personally avoided eggs during the entire trip), coffee, and little pastries. This breakfast was what we were served throughout the entire trip. We were offered watermelon at virtually every meal in Turkey.

Instead of boring my readers to death with my description of all the sights we visited, I am attaching links to websites that provide detailed information and photographs.

After breakfast our group of 22 was out of the hotel and onto Turkish public transportation, the T1 Zeytinburnu- Kabataş (-Beşiktaş) tram, for our morning excursions. Our first stop was the Topkapi Palace, home of the Ottoman Sultans until 1856. The palace and grounds are a setting right out of Scheherazade. At one time the palace housed a population of 5,000. For detailed information on Topkapi Palace visit http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Topkapi_Palace.


The crown jewels were on display in the Treasury, a linear set of rooms, each with an armed Turkish soldier very visible. Taking pictures in the Treasury was not allowed to visitors, so to see pictures visit http://home-and-garden.webshots.com/photo/2896780070031751182HfUEMM. View pictures 180 through 190.

My very favorite place at the palace was a shaded terrace overlooking the Golden Horn and the Sea of Marmara.

From Topkapi Palace we walked to the Archaeological Museum. We could have spent days there but only had a couple of hours. Visit http://www.pbase.com/dosseman/archaeological_museum_istanbul to see far more pictures and of better quality than I could have taken during our brief visit.

Our last stop before lunch was Hagia Sophia http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a--qpyX75Ik. This was the first of three lessons I learned about the need to keep your eyes where you are walking, not looking at all the interesting and exciting antiquities. Throughout our trip we walked on uneven surfaces, dangerous paths, and challenging stairs without railings. As I descended the dark tunneled stairway to the ground floor of Hagia Sophia I slipped and fell. Fortunately, I was at the last step before a landing and didn’t have far to fall. I did manage to turn my ankle and bruise my body. Only one of my traveling companions was with me at that moment, so my embarrassment was minimal. I safely descended the remainder of the stairs and walked it off.

After Hagia Sophia we were set free to do lunch on our own. I stayed with my daughter, her husband and his mother. Instead of following the recommendation of our guide to visit a food shop where we could view the offerings and point at what we wanted, we chose a real sit-down restaurant so we could be waited upon. I believe the name of the restaurant was the Sultan Pub. Service was slow, food was mediocre, and prices were high.

After lunch our tour bus met us at a nearby intersection and drove us to the site of the Hippodrome of Constantinople and the Blue Mosque http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sultan_Ahmed_Mosquepedia.org/wiki/Sultan_Ahmed_Mosque. The Blue Mosque is an active place of worship for Muslims. So we behaved accordingly. We removed our shoes and placed them in plastic bags which we carried with us. The women in our group covered heads and shoulders with a hijab (scarf), and one young man whose shorts did not cover his knees was required to drape a wrap around his lower body. The sense of divine presence was as palpable as in a mighty cathedral. As infidels we were required to stay outside the prayer area. If we had been believers our men might have entered the prayer area, but Islamic women are relegated to a separate area behind the men’s prayer area.

The Hippodrome http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hippodrome_of_Constantinople was a circus built for sporting events. Now only a few fragments of the original structures survive. The Obelisk of Thutmosis III is one of the few to remain intact.

Our last stop of the day was the Chora Church http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chora_Church. The mosaics, plastered over when the church was converted to a mosque, have been uncovered. They are breathtaking http://eikonografos.com/album/ from the menu select BYZANTINE MOSAICS then select Chora Church, CONSTANTINOPOLE.

With the exception of the Blue Mosque all of the sites we visited are now public monuments or museums, most managed by the Turkey Ministry of Tourism.

We returned to the Kent Hotel for dinner and our last night in Istanbul.

Live long and prosper!

Days 1 & 2

I have been home in California for almost a week and I still fall asleep at inconvenient times and awake at inconvenient times. But I believe I have recovered enough to begin blogging my adventures. The time changes when traveling west are more difficult than when I travel east, so I still find myself on Turkish time.

Day One was spent entirely in travel. We left Kent, OH, on the morning of Friday, June 18. When we arrived at Cleveland Hopkins Airport we checked in, went through security and ate lunch at a very nice British style pub. We then met up with the others in our travel group (22 of us all together), boarded our aircraft and began our journey. We connected with our overseas flight at Newark Liberty International. We had one hour and fifty minutes to make our connection for Zurich. No time for dawdling but sufficient for our purposes. I was fortunate that, after dinner on board our aircraft, I slept the entire trip across the Atlantic.

When I awoke it was Day Two and we were over Europe preparing to descend into Switzerland. We had only one hour and five minutes to make our connection in Zurich to the Swiss Air flight we would take to Istanbul. I almost missed the flight because we had to go through security all over again and I became the random passenger for increased security screening. To make matters worse, our departure gate wasn’t physically in the terminal building. I was required to hop on shuttle which drove us to our aircraft. Fortunately my son-in-law and another person in our group stayed back to wait for me. We were the last on the aircraft and they slammed the doors behind us.

It was afternoon on Saturday, June 19, when we arrived in Istanbul. We cleared passport control, rounded up our luggage, and then waited while the three in our party whose luggage had not arrived on our flight made their claims with Swiss Air. Our tour bus with guide and driver was waiting for us. We were whisked away directly to St. Anthony of Padua Cathedral to celebrate Sunday liturgy in a small chapel set aside for us. Father Nick, the priest who was traveling as part of our group celebrated Sunday Mass just for our intimate little assembly.

After Mass, our tour bus took us to the Grand Bazaar for a brief visit because it is closed on Sunday. I was overwhelmed and would have liked to come another day and to stay for hours. The Grand Bazaar is a covered structure containing over 4,000 shops and miles of internal streets. Filled with people shopping and vendors hawking their wares the din was deafening; we dared not go far from where we entered or we would be permanently lost. I do believe I could have spent days there. And while there are lots of shops attractive to tourists, this really is a place where the residents also shop.

From the bazaar we were finally delivered to the Hotel Kent where we checked in, surrendered our passports, freshened up and went for a buffet dinner. I can’t speak for any others in our party, but I for one escaped to my room and into bed very shortly after dinner ended.

Live long and prosper!

Home at last

July 3, 2010

I arrived at Oakland Airport yesterday, July 2, at 2:30 p.m. - exhausted! I was home in Dublin by 3:15 p.m. and in bed asleep by 5:00 p.m. I slept for twelve hours!

I have unpacked and now have the first of four loads of laundry in the washer. I am also wondering where to put all the things I brought home.

You can't believe all the things you read about Internet access abroad, which is why you haven't heard from me for two weeks. I will blog about the segments of my trip as I organize my notes.

Suffice it to say the trip was wonderful, my traveling companions have become friends, and our schedule was brutal!

More to come...

Live long and prosper!

Next Stop, Turkey

June 17,2010


Today I am just hanging around at my daughter's house in Kent while she and her family pack for our trip. I was packed a week in advance and they will do well to get the bulk of it done one day before. We leave the house tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. for Cleveland Airport, and it is almost 5:00 p.m. now. They may have a late night tonight, especially since we are going to dinner tonight to celebrate their 15th wedding anniversary.


Yesterday, we drove up to Cleveland to visit the Maltz Museum of Jewish Heritage. We went specifically to see the exhibit Women & Spirit which is all about Catholic Sisters and their contribution to education, medical care, social justice, and other human services in early America, especially to immigrant populations.


The exhibit was extremely well done and we spent two hours looking and learning.


I don't expect I will be able to blog again until we arrive in Turkey. But who knows, you find WiFi in all sorts of locations.


Live long & prosper!