The "A Hero Named Lale" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Reading online about a young man by he name of Lale Labuko.  I'm sure most of you have never heard the name before.  If I hadn't been searching for the term "mingi" I probably would have never come across the young man's name.  Mingi is the traditional belief among the Omotic-speaking Karo and Hamar tribes in southern Ethiopia that children with physical abnormalities, those born out of wedlock, those whose top teeth come in before their bottom teeth and those whose married parents have not received the necessary three blessings by elders are ritually impure and ancient traditions dictate that grievous harm will come to the village unless the mingi dies.  Thus, they are murdered by pushing them off high cliffs, thrown in the river to drown or eaten by crocodiles.  It is estimated that these tribes kill almost 300 children a year.  As for the young man with the interesting name of Lale Labuko.....he came from the Kara tribe and grew up in the village of Dus which is by the Omo River in Ethiopia, Africa.  At the age of nine his father sent him to a boarding school run by Swedish missionaries.  His father was highly criticized for doing so, but it changed his life.  When he was 15 he witnessed the practice of Mingi.  Back in his village he saw elders grab a baby from her mother and take her to the river to drown her.  From that point forward he began working to save the Mingi children.  He currently runs a shelter for the so-called cursed children.  Three years ago he was featured in the movie "Omo Child: The River and the Bush" which followed him as he tries to end the practice of Mingi.  Together with film maker John Rowe, he founded the Omo Child Shelter whose mission is to provide a safe, nurturing home and quality education for rescued Mingi children living in the remote Omo Valley.  The hope of the shelter is that these children will become future leaders in their tribes and communities as well as raise awareness about the practice of Mingi and see its elimination in the tribes of the Omo Valley by the year 2030.  

Lale Labuko with natives from the Omo Valley.

I don't recall what I was searching for at the time I came upon the name Lale Labuko, but I will never forget finding his name.  Lale is now 30 and the heart behind OMO Child.  One thing that influenced him was the fact that he had two older sisters, both deemed Mingi, who were killed before he ever knew them.  Outlawing and stopping Mingi has become his life's mission.  His main objective now is to create Southwest Ethiopia's future leaders and help to end the practice of Mingi.  To be 30 and leading the fight to save his tribe is remarkable.  A true patriot and hero in my eyes.  In a country where we seem to have a daily national crisis created by members of all parties, wouldn't it be nice to find someone like Lale Labuko to lead the way?  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "As Time Goes On..." Story

It was an ordinary day.  No...Wait!  Certainly isn't ordinary!!  I kept telling people I would return from my fourth back surgery just as quickly as I returned from my first three.  They told me that I'm now older and that my body can't take the same pain and suffering that it once did.  Boy, where they right.  I can't even find a comfortable position to sit and type.  Maybe it was the fall I took last night when I forgot to turn on the light in the middle-room bedroom and fell against the wall, slipping into the chair that broke my fall.  So glad I put that chair there years ago.  I just knew back then that someone would fall in that room and the chair would block their fall.  Little did I know it would be me.  See, Jere, there really was a reason for that chair in that spot.  And the soft bedspread that was thrown on top of it was also a really neat idea.  Why didn't I think of that when I did it a few days ago.  So, I told my wife about my fall as we sat around the TV this morning.  "What, I can't believe you didn't hear it!" I said to her.  She never sleeps that soundly when we sleep together.  "Well, did you hurt yourself?" she asked me.  "Were you wearing your brace like you were supposed to be doing?"  "I fell because it was dark and for some stupid reason I forgot to turn on the lights.  Therefore I couldn't find my brace," I responded.  "But, you know, as I fell into the chair, that really was my first thought...that I forgot to put on my brace.  And then, when I hit the soft comforter, I was so glad it was there."  Well, I could go on and on, but I still haven't found a comfortable position...so I will stop typing and find a place to lay down.  It was another extraordiary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "All That's Needed Is A Bit Of Magic And Pow-Wow To Heal The Afflicted" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Just like many other days in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania which is thought to be home to what is known as the "Pennsylvania Dutch" which is a cultural group formed by early German-speaking immigrants to Pennsylvania and their descendants.  Most emigrated to North America from Germany or Switzerland in the 17th and 18th century.  These people maintained numerous religious affiliations with the greatest number being Lutheran or German Reformed, but also with many Anabaptists, including Mennonites, Amish and Hutterites.  Among the old time traditions of the Pennsylvania Dutch people were their 18th century broadside amulets that were handed down from Colonial times and were said to bring good luck to devout Christian families who lived in southeastern Pennsylvania.  These amulets were known as Himmelsbriefs (Letters from God) and were letters about seven by nine inches which they would tuck in their Bibles for good luck.  

Another tradition was practicing white magic, known in their dialect as Braucherei or "powwowing" which makes use of magical charms to heal the ailments of humans and animals.  This tradition was brought by immigrants from the Rhineland and Switzerland in the 17th and 18th centuries.  Powwow blends aspects of religion with healing charms and includes a wide range of healing rituals used primarily for treating ailments in humans and livestock.  The Bible is considered the most important book of the powwow and no practitioner would work without his Bible nearby.  In addition, several textbooks were used to practice powwow.  One such Pennsylvania Dutch healer, John George Hohman, compiled and published his book of cures in 1820.  It was titled Pow-Wows or, Long Lost Friend" and was first published in German in nearby Reading, Pennsylvania.  In the book were alleged cures for many medical problems and diseases.  

Another book of pow-wow healing methods.

One such cure for the headache was: Tame thou flesh and bone like Christ in Paradise; and you will assist thee, this I tell thee for your repentance sake.  You had to say that three times, each time lasting three minutes, and your headache would soon cease.  To remove bruises and pains you said: Bruise, thou shall not heat, Bruise, thou shalt not sweat; Bruise, thou shall not run, No more than Virgin Mary shall bring forth another son.  Pain should be gone soon after saying that.  In Mr. Hohman's Pow-Wow book were many testimonials to tell you of others that were healed through the book.  Benjamin Stoudy, the son of a Lutheran schoolmaster from nearby Reading suffered from a wheal in the eye (small burning or itching swelling on the skin) in 1814.  Hohman, with the help of God, in a little more than 24 hours, had the eye sound again.  Another resident of Reading, Henry Jorges, brought his son to Hohman suffering from extreme pain from a wheal in the eye and after 24 hours, with the help of God, had him healed.  Anna Snyder of Alsace Township had a severe pain in one of her fingers which was healed in a little more than twenty-four hours.  John Bingemann from Berks County had a boy who burnt himself dreadfully so Mr. Hohman's wife went to that place in the fall of 1812.  Mortification (great embarrassment and shame) had already set in, so she had great sympathy for him and in a short time the mortification was banished.  

This sub-head says "A 19th Century American
Grimoire" which is a book of magic spells and
invocations, also by John George Hohman.

Hey, there's no way I could have made any of this stuff up you know.  It is all in his book!  The list of people who tell of being healed goes on and on.  How does the guy do it?  He goes on to say that if any of those people try to call him a liar and deny being cured by him or his wife, he shall compel them to repeat their confession before a Justice of the Peace.  He went on to tell of a Mr. Allgaier of Reading who had a very sore finger so he used sympathy to banish the wild-fire and to cure the finger.  Mr. John George Hohman goes on to say that his book is partly derived from a work published by a Gypsy, and partly from secret writings, and collected with much pain and trouble, from all parts of the world, at different periods in time.  He really didn't want to publish it and his wife was opposed to its publication, but his compassion for his suffering fellow-man was too strong, for he had seen many a one lose his entire sight by a wheal, and his life or limb by mortification.  And, how dreadfully has many a woman suffered from mother-fits?  And he therefore asks thee again, oh friend, male or female, is it not to my everlasting praise, that He had such books printed.  Naturally he charged for the book.  He did ask for the Lord to bless the beginning and the end of his work, and be with he and his wife, that they may not misuse it, and thus commit a heavy sin!.  There you have it folks.  Pow-wow as a healing medical tradition as used by the Pennsylvania Dutch.  I think I'll stick with my medical doctors!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.  
   

The "Negroes Are America's Last Pioneers" Story

The Reverend Stanley Imboden

It was an ordinary day.  Wishing Reverend Stanley Imboden a "Happy Birthday" on Facebook.  After writing my birthday greeting I decided to take a look at a few of Stan's posts on his Facebook page.  One of the first posts I observed featured the green cover of "THE NEGRO MOTORIST GREEN-BOOK".  A publication I had never heard of before, but one that I will now never forget after reading his comment as well as a few online articles about the publication which defined "Negro" travel throughout the United States during its history.  As a young child my parents took my brother and I on weekend trips as well as a week-long vacation during the summer months.  Not once did I ever notice, or even think of, Negroes being anywhere near the locations we were visiting.  We took trips to the Chesapeake Bay for fun in the sun; swimming and playing in the sand.  As I grew older I entered elementary school in an up-scale white school district.  It was at this time that I began to notice and associate with Negros.  At age 12 I wanted to to play organized baseball so bad that I talked my father into allowing me to join a team.  He found one in the newspaper that practiced in the south end of the city, which was where most of the Negroes lived.  After my first practice I was part of the team.  There were 15 boys on the team; five of us white and the rest Negroes.  

Cover of the Negro travel guide.

I loved it!  We were coached by two men, one Negro, Mr. Hawkins, and one Caucasian, Mr. Keifer.  My dad volunteered to drive through the south end of the city to pick up boys for every practice and game.  To me, we were all part of a team.  Skin color didn't mean a thing to me.  Today, as I viewed "The Green Book" I learned of an entirely new world that existed in the late 1940s and early 1950s that I never knew existed before.  As I read online I found a book written in 1965 by John A. Williams titled "This Is My Country Too" that said he didn't believe white travelers had any idea of how much nerve and courage it required for a Negro to drive coast to coast in America.  Items needed for travel where nerve, courage, a great deal of luck supplemented by a rifle and shotgun, a road atlas and Travelguide which would list places in America where Negroes could stay without being embarrassed, insulted, harassed or worse.  He noted that black drivers needed to be particularly cautious in Southern states where they were advised to wear a chauffeur's cap or have one visible on the front seat and pretend they were driving a car for a white person. Along the way you would have to endure a stream of "insults of clerks, bellboys, attendants, cops and strangers in passing cars."  "The Green Book" helped the Negro traveler by listing accommodations for black travelers, places that would allow Negroes to eat as well as use the restroom and even places to refuel.  Not once did my dad or mom ever tell me the hardships that those boys on my team faced when they tried to go on vacation as we did after the baseball season ended.  As I grew I went to junior high and high school and never once did I have a Negro in any of my classes.  As a student at Millersville State Teacher's College in Millersville, Pennsylvania I did see a few Negroes on campus, but didn't have any in my classes.  After graduating from college and having more time, I began to coach baseball and went back to the same neighborhood where I played to form a team of young boys.  We, too, were very good.  I totally enjoyed the experience while driving the same streets as my dad did years earlier, picking up the boys to take them to practice and games.  Once again we were a multi-cultural team.  While teaching in the same high school from where I graduated, I began to have Negroes in classes.   I had Negroes as well as Latinos and many other nationalities on my Yearbook Staff.  All of my adult life I have realized the animosity suffered by most minority groups and have tried my best to alleviate that animosity in my classes and extracurricular activities.  But, I am sorry to say, I did not realize the total abuse that Negroes faced just to take a simple vacation with their family in the late 1800s and most of the 1900s.  As I read the post by Rev. Imboden today he told of a good friend of his whom I had the honor to meet years ago.  Rev. Imboden wrote:  "Jim Crow" Southern States and many Northern "Sundown Law" Communities harshly discriminated against African Americans, especially as they sought places to stay during travel. The Green Book previously posted on FB by another person listed the familiar name of our late friend, true gentlemen and Lancaster civic leader, the honorable Nelson Polite who for many years welcomed weary travelers of all colors to his Lancaster home. Nelson is in heaven now and there's no Green Book needed there. For years Nelson and I served on the founding Board of the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Scholarship Fund in Lancaster city. He is dearly remembered.  That book cover will forever remind me of the hardships faced by the Negroes as they attempted to take their young families on summer vacations such as my mom and dad did for years when I was a young child.  I'm positive it still happens, but hopefully not to the extent that is used to happen.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Tuesday, 2/20/2018, A Day Best Forgotten!" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Carol was attempting to catch our new stray cat, Snickerdoodle, and place him in our cat carrier so we could take him to the vet to be neutered.  Placed a few treats in the carrier and after the cat was half way in to eat them, she shoved him the rest of the way in and began to close the door.  But, he was too quick for her and escaped.  She was so upset since it meant another call to the vet to tell her we wouldn't be bringing Snickerdoodle today.  After she placed the call to the vet she walked to the kitchen sink and grabbed her pill container to take her daily meds.  I was in the process of taking mine also and after she dumped the few pills into her hand she stared at it and after a few seconds said to me, "I don't know what these are."  I looked at her and said, "What do you mean?"  She looked at me with a puzzled look and said once again, "I don't know what to do with these.  I don't know what they are."  Now she had my attention.  Her blank look was not only filled with fear, but was scaring me.  "I can't remember anything."  I immediately grabbed the phone and called our family doctor.  Within a few minutes I was talking to her nurse practitioner Cindy.  After hearing my story she told me to go straight to the emergency room.  Within less than five minutes we were headed to the Heart of Lancaster Hospital in nearby Lititz.  Carol asked what was wrong with her and I had no answer to give to her.  Within ten minutes we were in the Emergency Room registering her to be checked.  The time was just about 8:00 am.  Within a minute or two we were ushered into a room where she was given a gown and told to take her top off and place the gown on, tying it in the back.  A doctor entered and after talking to her for perhaps two minutes, ushered us to a larger room and ordered the stroke staff to begin their duties.  Test after test was administered and within half an hour the doctor returned and said we were going to face a TV screen and talk with a doctor from Hershey Medical Center in nearby Hershey, Pennsylvania.  Now we were both scared.  The young female doctor appeared on the screen and asked me to get into the picture and began to tell both of us what had happened to Carol.  She said Carol had not suffered a stroke as the medical staff at the hospital had suspected, but due to all the circumstances and test results, Carol was being diagnosed as having Transient Global Amnesia.  Wow, I could see the look on Carol face and knew she was scared.  She was squeezing my hand as we listened to the doctor describe what to expect with that diagnosis.  First, there is very little known about the neurological condition she suddenly had and there was no sure reason she got the condition.  She told us there were three reasons that can trigger the condition: (1) A blow to the head, (2) A very stressful occurrence and (3) no known reason.  After I told the doctor about Carol's attempt to catch the cat she wasn't sure if that could have been the trigger that set off the amnesia.  She did tell us that those over 50 are more apt to get the condition as well as those that get frequent migraine headaches.  She also said that since the cause is not really known, there is no standard approach to make sure you don't get it and it is more than likely that she will never get it again.  She said that Carol's condition would last between 12 to 24 hours and her memory would gradually return.  Even though Transient Global Amnesia has no direct complications, it can cause emotional distress.  Shortly she wished Carol well and we ended our Facetime session.  After a few more tests I was told that Carol will be observed by the staff and that she will have to remain overnight.  Soon Carol was taken to a private room on the second floor of the hospital with me in tow.  After she was made comfortable we were left to ourselves.  Only then did it hit both of us what had happened to her.  She had quickly forgotten the interview with the Hershey doctor and was beginning to wonder why she was in a bed on the second floor.  The more I tried to tell her what had happened to her, the more she became scared.  Tears began to flow from her eyes which in turn caused the same result from me.  She would ask me if she had a stroke and when I told her she did not have a stroke, she would ask how she got the condition.  After telling her the doctors were not sure, she would ask once again if she had had a stroke and the cycle would repeat over and over again.  During the day a series of different medical staff stopped to check her vitals and reflexes and ask her questions.  All questions dealing with her past were answered quickly and accurately, but anything related to today drew a blank.  She then saw the board on the wall in front of her and after seeing that it was Tuesday she said, "What happened to Monday?  This is really freaking me out!"  And then the tears would flow again.  It was a rough day for her to say the least.  I left about 6:00 pm to go home and feed the cat and eat something and when I returned about 7:30 pm I noticed the biggest difference in her face.  She was coming back to life.  I had planned to stay the night, but she told me to go home and get some sleep.  The next morning she was just about back to normal.  She said, "I thought this only happened on soap operas." It took quite a few hours before we were allowed to leave, but we made it home.  Two long days for both of us, but one day I will never forget.  As for Carol, it is probably best she will never remember anything at all about that day.  Might only cause her more pain.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy. 

The "Was This An Evil Experiment With Known Results?" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Reading a story I posted on Tuesday, June 23, 2015 which tells the story of my neighbor and friend Tom who told a group of sophomore high school students about his experiences as a soldier in the United States Army during the Vietnam War.  Told them about having to pull his poncho over his head to avoid getting covered with Agent Orange that was dropping from the sky during the middle of the night from U.S. military planes.  Tom died about a year ago from complications associated with that Agent Orange which was dropped on him those fateful evenings in 1968 in Vietnam.  It was said that the Agent Orange was used to defoliate the countryside to make it easier for our troops to see the enemy soldiers.  The chemical was called Agent Orange since it was made and shipped by Monsanto and Dow in orange-striped barrels.  Back in 2015, Tom was telling me these stories to help me understand the Vietnam War so I could write about his experiences during the war.

Tom shared his stories about Vietnam
and the chemical Agent Orange with me.

 Well, since Tom's death I have often thought about the story he told me and the use of Agent Orange that was dropped night after night on top of the troops.  I recently read a rather disturbing story telling about a $10,000 grant that dermatologist Dr. Albert Kligman got in 1965 to study various chemicals on behalf of Dow Corning, Johnson & Johnson and the U.S. Army.  His testing was done to observe how human skin reacts to harsh chemicals, a process known as "hardening".  The chemicals he was to test as well as the details of his work seem to have been lost to history.  In 1981 it was found that all his notes and records had somehow been destroyed.  It was known though that one of the chemicals that Dr. Kligman was testing was dioxin which just so happens to be the active ingredient in Agent Orange.  Then I read that at the time of the testing, the military was crop dusting half of Vietnam with the stuff, and people in the spray zones were exposed over and over to dioxin.  Seems the Pentagon was interested in what would happen to them, as was Dow, the manufacturer of Agent Orange.  During some of Dr. Kligman experiments, he injected his victims with a reported 468 times the recommended "safe" dose of dioxin, which was known to work as a blister agent and systemic toxin.  Somehow the good Doctor just happened to conveniently lose, or perhaps destroy, his findings.  Funny how all this happened and then he died ... allegedly from natural causes.  After some more searching I found that about one million of those, both residents as well as troops, exposed to Agent Orange suffered, or are now suffering, serious health problems.  I now wonder if Dr. Kligman knew this was going to happen even before my friend Tom was deployed to Vietnam.  Or even worse, did our government know and still used Agent Orange!  And, who is ever going to disclose the results of the tests?  I believe this is a well-kept secret that we will never know!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy. 

The "Do You Really Know About Opioids? - Part II - My Personal Experience" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Just got back from the gallery where I worked three hours this morning matting 17 black and white photographs of industrial machines that I plan to cut glass and frames for tomorrow.  Grabbed a plum from the fruit dish in the kitchen and two Tramadols from the medicine cabinet before settling in my recliner for "The Price Is Right."  Wasn't long before the pain in my back subsided and I could enjoy the plum.  My journey through pain with Tramadol began about six years ago when I was told I would need surgery to correct my back problems.  At the time I was taking Tylenol quite a few times a day and my family doctor told me I may be able to control my pain better with the next level of pain meds, thus the Tramadol.  When I finally had back surgery I was able to eliminate the Tramadol from my life without any trouble.  Then a few years later the pain returned and so did the daily doses of Tramadol.  

My bottle of Tramadol with the No Refills on the label.

I guess I should tell you that at no time was I told the risks of taking Tramadol which is an opioid pain medication that is used to treat moderate to moderately severe pain.  It wasn't until TODAY that I realized it could be addictive.  Then again, I never asked.  I guess I just assumed that I was being given something for my pain that wouldn't hurt me.  Now, I said TODAY because I was reading a story in the morning newspaper and there was a story titled "Opioids a problem for all ages."  Right next to the article was a photograph of an 83 year-old man from Lancaster who had taken Tramadol for five years and had to endure frightening hallucinations until he finally stopped taking the drug.  The article told about a nurse in a senior living facility who told of senior citizens (I'll call them old people since I am now one them) who went to their doctors for a variety of aches and pains and the answer for all of the people was a pain pill; an opioid pain pill.  Therefore, there are many old people who now rely on opioids to get through the day.  They have become addicted to the drugs.  And it seems to be a staggering number of old people who have become dependent on opioids.  It no longer is just the teenage kid or 20 something who is getting hooked on drugs, but an entire generation of oldtimers who are suffering.  

The city of Lancaster, Pennsylvania.

And, last year in Lancaster, a county of about 500,000 citizens, nearly a quarter of the 117 opioid overdose deaths were people over 50 years old.  Drugs such as Vicodin, Oxycodone, Perocet and Morphine were abused and led to their deaths.  Just two years ago it was reported that nearly 3 million Americans over the age of 50 were abusing pain meds.  For those over 65, hospitalization for opioid abuse has grown five times what it was 20 years ago.  And, it is now reported that opioids really don't help with chronic pain which is what most old people seem to have.  Opioids are best suited for acute pain instead of chronic pain.  As for the 83 year-old fellow on Tramadol, he became so addicted that he had dreams that had him running for his life from people shooting at him or being trapped in a room where he couldn't get out.  He also dreamed he was responsible for the end of the world.  He was pretty sure he knew what was causing the bad dreams and frightening hallucinations that tricked him when he was awake: Tramadol.  He first began the drug five years ago and had his dose increased over that time from one 50 milligram pill per day to four pills per day.  It was needed to control his carpal tunnel syndrome, neuropathy in his hand and feet, arthritis and cellulitus.  He never used more than prescribed, but his side effects were overwhelming.  He got a new doctor and decided to quit taking Tramadol; cold turkey.  He now controls the pain through physical therapy and has noticed a marked improvement in his health.  He can now taste the coffee that he drinks and smell the cream he uses on his legs.  The Tramadol had caused his lost of taste and smell and his dreams are no longer frightening.  Wow!  How many of you are on opioids and aren't aware of it?  I now know and will make sure I never overuse the Tramadol.  One good thing is my family doctor made sure I knew that it was a prescription that could not be refilled.  I'm hoping to have one more back surgery in the near future and won't need the Tramadol anymore.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

The "Do You Really Know About Opioids? - Part I - The Crisis" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Making a visit to the hospital in Ephrata, Pennsylvania to have an EMG.  I recently had an appointment with a neurologist who happened to have his office near the hospital.  My reason for the visit was numbness in my left foot and leg and the start of numbness in my right foot.  After my visit and a manual examination, Dr. Fisher ordered the EMG (electromyography) to see if my problem might be neurological.  The test went well and after ruling out a neurological problem, he set up a MRI appointment for a later date.  As I was leaving the hospital, an ambulance arrived, the rear door burst open and the two EMT's pulled out a gurney that had a lifeless young man covered with blankets on him.  He was rushed past me into the emergency room.  Didn't think much about it until two days later when the local newspaper featured a series of stories on the opioid crisis in the small town of Ephrara which lies about 16 miles to the north of Lancaster, PA.  The main headline cried out "Fighting A Familiar Enemy" and told the story of the Ephrata Mayor who declared a heroin crisis twenty years ago in his town, but was faced with citizens that complained he was putting a black mark on the town and it was hurting business.  Anyway, most thought he didn't know what he was talking about.  Seems the Police Chief in the town had told the Mayor in 1997 that drug overdoses had tripled from two years prior.  His warnings and efforts were pushed off and now the town has a major problem.  Eventually, the drug problem did subside somewhat, but now, it has returned with a vengeance.  Not just a heroin epidemic, but a full-blown opioid crisis.  

The hospital where I just visited is now treating about 300 overdoses a year.  That's almost one a day.  And, perhaps the gurney I saw today was carrying the next victim.  Ephrata, as well as many other cities and towns all over the world are faced with an opioid crisis.  People of all ages, races and wealth are effected.  Do you know what opioids are?  Do you happen to have some in your medicine cabinet?  My guess is you do.  May not realize it, but I'll bet many of you do.  Opioids are drugs that act on the nervous system to relieve pain.  You may have had a tooth pulled or had a medical procedure done at your doctor's office or local hospital and were given pain pills to help with your pain.  Those pills were probably opioids.  Recognize these names: Robitussin A-C, Tylenol with Codeine, Empirin with Codeine, Demerol, Percocet or OxyContin to name a few; all listed as opioids.  Today these drugs carry street names such as: Captain Cody, Schoolboy, Doors & Fours, Pancakes & Syrup and Loads.  I had a few containers in my kitchen cabinet a few weeks ago until I went through the cabinet and took all the unused pills to my local police department so I could deposit them in a secure place they have for them.  After each of my three back surgeries I was given opioids.  After each of my hand surgeries I was given opioids.  After I had my kidney stones removed and after I had my prostate cancer procedure I was given opioids.  And, I'm one person!  Can you imagine how many containers of opioids are in your medicine cabinet the cabinets of your neighbors.  And, how many of their children, friends and relatives might grab the containers figuring they will never miss a few of them.  

And now we have an opioid crisis throughout the world.  Big money is involved in the making of synthetic opioids and sold to just about anyone who can afford them or who can offer their services to get them.  When will it ever end?  I, for one, have no idea what to look for to tell if someone is an abuser of opioids.  All I know is what I read and needless to say if you are reading this story you see I have absolutely no idea how big a problem it may be.  I only know what I read.  Lucky for me I was able to bypass the use of all those prescriptions I was given over the years and have dispensed of the opioids at the police station.  Have you?  What's next?  More suffering and pain for those addicted to opioids?  Some problems never seem to go away do they.  I'm afraid this may be one of them.  And, I hope it doesn't affect any of you reading this story today, but I know that's not going to be the case.  It could be any one you!  So sad!!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.   

The "Unprecedented Category 5 Hurricane Set To Strike" Story

TV shot of hurricane Luis from 1995.

It was an ordinary day.  Staring at the TV screen in awe of the power of the tropical storm named Irma.  Weather Channel says: POTENTIALLY CATASTROPHIC CATEGORY 5 HURRICANE IRMA HEADING TOWARD THE LEEWARD ISLANDS...PREPARATIONS SHOULD BE NEARING COMPLETION IN THE EASTERNMOST LEEWARD ISLANDS.  Scary stuff!  Back on September 7, 2015 I wrote a story about Hurricane Luis that struck the island of Sint Maarten/St. Martin in early September of 1995 as well as the islands of  Antigua, Barbuda, St. Barts and Anguilla.  The 1995 Atlantic hurricane with maximum sustained winds of 140 mph, classified as a category 4 storm, accounted for 19 deaths, left nearly 70,000 homeless and wrought roughly $3 billion in damages across the affected islands.  Hurricane Luis was the most devastating hurricane to strike the northern Leeward Islands in the 20th century.  When Carol and I began traveling to the Leeward islands in early 2000, we heard many stories about Luis and the havoc it caused.  Well, we may be in the 21st Century now, but having another KILLER storm arrive so soon after Luis is scary; REALLY SCARY.  Across the bottom of the TV screen a trailer tells the story ... LARGEST HURRICANE EVER RECORDED IN THE ATLANTIC BASIN ... UNPRECEDENTED CAT 5 HURRICANE.  

The storm Irma is immense when comparing it to the
size of the little dots on the left which are islands.

I checked my emails and just found one that read: As of now, it appears that we are in the direct path of Hurricane Irma, and our staff is busily battening down the hatches and preparing the resort to weather the storm. Due to its size, intensity and current trajectory, we expect to experience some level of impact, including potentially the loss of utilities, phones and Internet for anywhere between a few days to a few weeks. For that reason, we have set up a special U.S.-based email address, in case regular communications are temporarily interrupted.  We will keep you updated the best we can over the next several days, and greatly appreciate all your thoughts and prayers!  During the past fifteen years we have made friends on many of the islands in the Atlantic Ocean and Caribbean Sea.  On the island of Sint Maarten, Barbara and Deidrick Cannegieter have become good friends that we communicate with on an ongoing basis and visit every year when we head to Sint Maarten.  We hope that they will make it through this historic storm safely.  Irma's sustained winds have intensified over the last few hours to 185 mph.  Hopefully all island residents have had the chance to prepare for this storm.   As of Tuesday afternoon the Princess Juliana International Airport on Sint Maarten has closed until the storm passes.  So where will the storm head?  Too many different scenarios on different TV stations to predict.  Carol and I are scheduled to head to our local travel agency on Friday to pick up our information and paperwork for an upcoming trip to Nassau in the Bahamas.  I guess the best thing I can report about that trip is that we purchased travel insurance when we originally scheduled the trip a few months ago.  Possible that an airplane could get us to the island by October, but will the resort where we are scheduled to visit still be able to accommodate us.  Another UPDATE has flashed across the bottom of the TV screen.  STORM SURGE: The combination of a life-threatening storm surge and large breaking waves will raise water levels by as much as 7 to 11 feet above normal tide levels along the coasts of the extreme northern Leeward Islands within the hurricane warning area near and to the north of the center of Irma.  I'm sure I will be glued to the TV screen for the next day or two, checking on my friends on Facebook and praying for the best outcome for all concerned.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary day.

PS - As I finished this story I had a few posts added to my Facebook page from friends in Sint Maarten/St. Martin.  All were magically eerie!!  Purely, the calm before the storm.  

From Barbara

Taken from a camera in Philipsburg, Sint Maarten

Another from Barbara and Dee's back yard.

Beach time before the storm.

The "The Mystery Of The Handkerchief" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Searching the Internet for information on a young woman by the name of Catherine Mary Hewitt, or Kate Hewitt.  And, why am I searching for this young woman you may want to know.  Story starts back in 1958 when I was a 9th grade student at Manheim Township High School.  Was playing quarterback for the freshman football team while my friend Jerry was my center.  Another young man, by the name of Josh Reynolds, was a senior starter for the varsity that year.  I remember Jerry and I getting a chance to suit up for a varsity game close to the end of the year and watching the varsity team members in the locker room gather around the star of the team, Josh Reynolds.  I also remember Josh when we both were members of the high school youth group at St. James Episcopal Church in downtown Lancaster, PA.  We knew of each other, but weren't close friends.  Josh went on to wealth and stardom when he created the Mood Ring in 1975 with his friend Maris Ambats.  As for me, I taught high school and went on to stardom as the writer of this blog you're reading.  

Major General John Reynolds

Well, anyway, what Josh or I did doesn't have anything to do with the rest of my story except for the fact that Josh was a distant relative to Major General John Reynolds and I thought that was pretty neat to be related to someone that famous.  Major General John Reynolds was born in Lancaster County and went to school in nearby Lititz, PA.  He then went to school in Long Green, Maryland and then returned to Lancaster for schooling at the Lancaster County Academy.  At the age of 17 he was nominated by Senator James Buchanan to the United States Military Academy.  Graduated in 1841 and commissioned a brevet second lieutenant in the 3rd U.S. Arltillery and was assigned to Fort McHenry.  His service time saw him travel with tours of duty throughout the United States and Mexico.  

Catherine Mary Hewitt

He participated in the Rogue River Wars of 1856 in Oregon and the Utah War with the Mormons in 1857-58.  He returned to the east coast and became Commandant of Cadets at West Point from 1860 to 1861.  Upon his return from the West, he became engaged to Catherine Mary Hewitt.  Since he was Protestant and she was Catholic, the engagement was kept a secret.  Then in 1863, Reynolds was commanding the "left wing" of the Army of the Potomac at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania during the Civil War when he yelled to his men, "Forward men!  For God's sake forward!"  At that instant he fell from his horse with a wound from a sniper in the back of the upper neck, or lower head, and died almost instantly.  

An etching of Reynolds being shot.

Reynold's body was quickly removed by field ambulance and then, along with his personal effects, were sent to the home of his sister Catherine on Spruce Street in Philadelphia.  There he laid in State until his funeral on July 4 in his home town of Lancaster.  Now for the part of my story about Kate Hewitt or John's fiancee.  While going through John's belongings, his family in Philadelphia discovered Kate's Catholic medal and a gold ring in the form of clasped hands which he had around his neck.  Inside the ring was inscribed the words Dear Kate.  On July 3 Kate called at the house on Spruce Street.  

Reynolds monument in
Lancaster's Cemetery.

Catherine, John's sister heard the knock on the door and rushed to the door to meet their beloved brother's fiancee and embrace her warmly.  Kate, after seeing the body, broke down and wept. Kate returned John's ring, but kept her Catholic medal he had worm.  Eight days after Major General John Reynolds was buried in Lancaster Cemetery, Kate Hewitt applied for admission to the Sisters of Charity Convent in Emmitsburg, Maryland. This, it seems, was the vow that Kate and John had made before he was killed in action.  Their plans for the future, if all went well, was to be married after the Civil War, but in the event that John would die, Kate would become a nun.  The establishment of the Sisters of Charity was located only ten miles from the Gettysburg Battlefield where her fiancee had been killed.  Seems that Reynolds and his First Corps had passed the convent only a few hours before he was killed.  Kate, wanting to know every thing about John, asked the other nuns to bring the General's orderly, Sergeant Charles Henry Veil, to visit her at the convent.  Shortly Veil met Kate at the convent to tell her of John's last days.  

Inscription of the grave of Reynolds.  Click to enlarge.

Veil was the one who pulled John's body to safety after he was killed.  When he was ready to leave she said, "Mr. Veil, I have a little token here I had for the General, some of my own work, and I want to give it to you as a token if remembrance of both of us."  She took from the folds of her dress a small package.  After leaving the convent Veil found the package to contain a very beautifully embroidered handkerchief with the Coat-of-Arms of the United States on it.  A few months later one of the nuns wrote to Veil telling him that Kate Hewitt had taken the name of Sister Hildegarde and had gone to New York to teach in a Catholic school.  

Monument at Gettysburg to Reynolds.

Then on September 3, 1968 Kate left the Community of Sisters of Charity.  She was still in mourning for the love of her life and finally gave up on the Catholic faith and returned to her hometown of Stillwater, New York.  She never married and died of pneumonia in 1895 in Stillwater. On her headstone was the word Mizpah which is Hebrew for "May God watch over you until we are together again." She had finally returned to the love of her life.  As for the handkerchief, Veil left the Sisters of Charity and went directly to his home in Johnstown, PA and gave the handkerchief to his mother for safekeeping.  

The cover of Charles Henry Veil's Memoirs.

Veil returned to service and his mother died, but his elder sister took charge of the handkerchief.  She had it in her little "casket" or pocketbook when the Johnstown Flood washed through town, killing thousands of people.  As the wall of water washed down her street she managed to save the precious handkerchief.  The Army dismissed Veil in 1871, but he didn't return to Pennsylvania until 1891 when he retrieved the handkerchief once again and wrote about it in his memoirs.  Charles Henry Veil died in 1910, but his memories weren't published until 1993 as "A Soldier's Recollections of the Civil War and the Arizona Territory: The Memoirs of Charles Henry Veil."  But, what ever happened to the handkerchief meant for Lancastrian John Reynolds is an unsolved mystery.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.    

The "Yesterday .... All My Troubles Seemed So Far Away! : Part VIII - The Final Chapter!" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Recovery from prostate cancer is just about complete, but for a few odds and ends.  My constant aide throughout my recovery, besides by wonderful and loving wife and my constant lap resident Creamsicle the cat, was my MacBook Air.  I have written over two dozen stories during my recovery and after going back through my iPhoto files, found photo after photo I had taken during the past year or so and more or less didn't do anything with until I discovered they would work great for a few of the stories.  My urologist had given me the name of a former patient of his, Bill, who I called numerous times and who helped answer many of my questions as I progressed through the procedure of attempting to rid my body of prostate cancer.  My hope is that these eight posts during the past few weeks will be an aide to those who may walk in my shoes and help answer questions that you may be afraid to ask or may be too embarrassed to ask. Well, today it has been 15 days since my surgery and another constant companion, my catheter, will be removed.  Thank goodness!!  I have caught the hose of the catheter on the kitchen drawers and cabinets numerous times with bloody results a few times.  I knelt on the hose the other day and stood up before it was free and once again made a mess.  I entered the doctor's office about 9:30 am and shortly he rushed in with a big smile on his face asking, "Are you ready?" As he sat next to me I said, "Bill told me that he had his catheter removed, but had to return later in the day and have it reinserted since he couldn't pee.  He told me that was the worst part of the entire procedure.  What are the chances of that happening to me?"  He got more serious and said, "I've had that happen less than a handful of times since I've been doing Cryo.  Your procedure went well and you will be fine.  The nurse will come in and take it out and I'll be right back."  His nurse entered, placed a pre-measured amount of water into the catheter which went into my bladder.  She then removed the catheter (which I didn't feel at all), I urinated the measured amount into a container to be measured to see if it matched the amount she placed in me, and then Dr. Seiber returned.  "Everything looks good.  I want you back in a couple of weeks to see how you are doing.  Any questions?"  "Yes, can I go on vacation to the Caribbean in a month and get in the ocean?  Also, can I sit in my air-jetted tub at home?"  Answer to both was yes, then I had one more for him.  "When you did the procedure, you went through the rectum, correct?"  "Well, yes, but ... only my probe, or camera, was placed in the rectum.  The needle that I used to place the nitrogen gas into the cancer area entered in the small area between the scrotum and the rectum.  Then when I finished, I put something like crazy glue on the area to seal it shut so it wouldn't bleed."  My reply was, "So that's what I felt when I took my first shower.  I thought it was dried blood under there and tried to pull it off.  Good I couldn't get it off."  "Probably wouldn't have mattered anyway since there were only a few real small holes."  We talked about why Cryosurgery isn't used more often and he told me that at first the needles used were too big and too hard to maneuver.  He said he didn't begin to use the procedure until he felt it was a safe way to treat prostate cancer.  I will admit, everyone whom I have talked to who have had Dr. Seiber for their urologist, love the guy.  You can add me to that number.  I enjoy his demeanor, his humor, the time he spends with me as well as the knowledge he possesses.  If you can't trust your urologist, you need to see another one.  If you happen to live in Lancaster County, PA, I would recommend Dr. Seiber to you, but I'm afraid he will be too busy to see me, so I won't mention his name again.  My journey, as far as these stories, is now complete.  I may add some notes as time goes by to let you know how I am progressing, but if you have a question for me, type it in the "Comment" area at end of any of the 8 stories and I will send you an answer or perhaps will agree to be a coach to you.  LIfe's too short to not have your questons answered early.  Take control of your health as I did.  You'll be gald you did.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy. 

The "A Father's Unbearable Grief" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Struggling with my thoughts today as I write this story.  This past Thursday I wrote a story of a young man who took his own life while in prison for the murder of three people; his best friend and his best friend's parents.  Throughout this terrible tale which began on May 12, 2007, I often thought about the parents and siblings of the boy who committed the crime, Alec Kreider.  I can remember Alec from his time in the Manheim Township Middle School and even though I never experienced him as a student, I do remember him from photographs I took of him for the school yearbook.  But, I never got to know the parents of Alec.  I'm sure they were just like myself and my wife in that they wanted the best for their son as he grew from childhood to become an adult.  But, in this case that didn't happen.  I feel sorrow for not only the boy but his parents.  He confided in his father about a month after the murders that he was the one who had committed them.  How awful his father must have felt.  I still get chills and tears in my eyes just thinking about it.  And, to have to turn your own son into the police ... well, I'm not sure I could have done that.  But, his father Tim did the absolute right thing.  I'm sure he has thought about that every single day of his life since that fateful day of June 16th, 2007 when he told the authorities about his son.  The few days that elapsed from the time his son told him until the day he talked to the police must have been unbearable, just as that month was for Alec when he told no one of his terrible deed.  Well, today I got to visit the internet site titled "Refuse To Drown" and read the father's heart-wrenching story which led from the day his son told him of the murders till the day he was notified of Alec's death.  The Blog post tells the story of a young, troubled boy who loved animals and enjoyed spending time with his family.  What follows is the text that Tim wrote in his blog.  Tim's website: "Refuse To Drown- A Father's Unthinkable Choice" can be found at: www.refusetodrown.com and you may care to visit it.  Tim has co-authored a book about his experiences which no one should have to ever go through.  May both Tim and his son Alec be at peace now!  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.

On January 20, 2017, in a small quiet cell, alone and desperate, the life of my son Alec Kreider came to a tragic end. There are many who will say and believe that he got what he deserved, good riddance or it’s about time.  Alec committed a horrible crime and took so much away from an innocent family and that certainly is part of who Alec was and part of his story.  It simply isn’t the entire story. There was another side to Alec.  He was a loved son, grandson and brother.  He wasn’t always angry, desperate and lost in the wasteland of depression and anger.  He was a beautiful baby boy born with ears too big for his head and eyes that didn’t quite work right.  But he was still beautiful to us. Eventually, he grew into his ears and after a couple surgeries and eye glasses he learned to deal with his eyes.  He became a small child with a huge grin, big dimples and bright eyes behind those eye glasses.  He loved to play with legos and his nerf guns.  He played in the snow, ran in our yard and road in his big foot truck.  He was an innocent child simply enjoying life.  Like almost all small children, he was scared of the dark and “monsters” under his bed and would wake me to tell me he had a bad dream.  He loved animals and would curl up on the floor with our family dog or chase him around the house.  One time when our kids wanted to watch a “scary” movie, we rented The Creature from the Black Lagoon.  Alec was maybe 10 or so and after the movie I asked him if he thought it was scary.  He said not but when I went upstairs to tuck him in, every light in every room in the house was on. I guess it was a little scary.  He had a bright and quick mind, which at times made him a challenge.  He wasn’t one to take “because I said so” as a good enough reason to do something.  He was determined and strong willed.  Attributes that should have served him well in life.  There were so many hopes and dreams for his future and the life he would have.  The possibilities seemed endless.  As he grew older he became a handsome young man who valued honesty and integrity and he simply didn’t understand why so many things in the world were so messed up.  He so wanted things to be better and different.  One of my fondest memories is when we watched a John Pinette video together.  John Pinette was a comedian and Alec, his younger brother and I watched and laughed so hard our sides hurt.  They were big belly laughs, we were, at that time, happy, enjoying life and for the moment free of any worries or concerns.  Unfortunately, somewhere along the journey, a darkness fell over Alec. It was something he struggled with every day.  All he wanted was for the pain, hurt and anger to end.  He tried so hard but yet the darkness would not leave him.  The bright eyes of his early childhood became dim and darker.  That small child with the big dimples and the joy for life was lost deep inside the anger and desperation he felt.  He was not the “monster” so many want to simply right him off as.  He did something monstrous, but that is only part of Alec.  To label him as such and not make an effort to understand the deeper story is the easy way to discard him and his life.  Alec loved and wanted to be loved.  Alec desperately wanted his life to be different.  He had hopes and dreams for his life and future and they were lost to the darkness and where it led him.  He was hurting and unable to conquer the inexplicable darkness that was a constant part of his every day.   He didn’t understand or know why he felt the way he did and why, no matter what he did, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t able to overcome the darkness and anger.  Alec wanted, with all of his being, for his life to be different, to be free of the torment he endured and had lived with for so long.   I encouraged him constantly to not give up, to keep trying, to believe that things could and would get better.  Some days he was hopeful and other days he was hopeless.  Unfortunately, the hopelessness proved to be too much to endure.  Alec was my son, his life did matter, he was loved and he will be missed.  May he finally rest and be at peace.