ESCAPE - Chapter 2

   The following year we decided to spend one week visiting with each of our sons and their families. We went to visit Philip first. Laura and Molly spent most of the time talking, and working in the garden and kitchen. I spent as much time as I could with the grandchildren. Billy and Polly both have small horses. They love to ride. Billy was trying to learn to lasso. He practiced on me. Polly is shy. She would work for a long time making a daisy chain necklace or hollyhock dolls and then would bring them to me for my approval and praise.

   When we went to visit Nathaniel, he was not able to sit still for long. He took us sightseeing most of the time we were with him. He put us in a motel and took us to eat in cafes and restaurants. We never saw his quarters. After several days he told us that he would be out on a field problem for about a week. We left and decided to go to Mobile, Alabama to sightsee for the rest of Nathan’s week.

   From Mobile it was an easy drive to Atlanta, Georgia where Thomas is a lawyer. Tom is shorter than the rest of his brothers. He is thin and wiry. Tom’s wife Ofelia is a Cuban-American. Her father was a lawyer in Cuba before Castro took over. After the Communist takeover, he had to work as a plumber’s assistant. They escaped to America when Ofelia was twelve. She went to high school and college in America. Ofelia is a very attractive woman. She has dark hair, dark eyes, and an attractive body. 

   Ofelia is a fervent Catholic believer and has insisted on their children being raised in the   Catholic Church and going to Catholic schools. Tom doesn’t attend the Catholic Church; he no longer attends any church. They have three daughters Claudia, Mariela, and Elena. Tom had wanted one of his daughters to be named Laura, but Ofelia refused because Laura isn’t Catholic. Our visit there was uncomfortable. The girls sensed their mother’s disapproval of us and were polite but not open and warm toward us. We had gone to the wedding and met Ofelia and her parents. Tom and Ofelia had never visited, so it was the first time the girls met us.

   Our son Matthew lives in Charlotte, North Carolina where he is an accountant. Matthew is the image of a successful business man. His suits and shoes look expensive. Matthew and his wife belong to a country club where he plays golf and his wife plays tennis. His wife Traci comes from a wealthy family and she had been a debutante. She is very attractive and dresses like a fashion plate. Traci was very warm and friendly to us but somewhat condescending. Their two boys, Frank - ten years old and Rudolf - eleven are rough and ready. We all went from Charlotte to the Outer Banks and stayed in a house Traci’s family owns. I enjoyed going to the Wright Brothers museum and to the lighthouses with Matthew and the boys. Laura and Traci visited the ornamental garden and went shopping.

   It was a tiring trip and we were glad to come back home. Laura had a garden that summer. It was her last year of happy memories. The next year her cancer returned.

   We went back to the A.D. Anderson Clinic in Houston. The doctors there told us that the cancer had metastasized. They had an experimental treatment which they tried. At first there seemed to be improvement, but it did not have any lasting effect. We returned to Arkansas. Laura tried to keep going. Everyone had some suggestion they had read about or a relative had tried. She had dark circles around her eyes. She lost weight and didn’t have an appetite. Still she kept trying to go on. She would put clothes in the washer and then sit down to rest. Sometimes food would burn on the stove because she just didn’t have strength to get up and go into the kitchen to turn off the stove.

   It reached the point where she couldn’t get out of bed. I signed up for an aide to come three times a week for two hours. As the cancer progressed she had more and more pain. The doctor prescribed pain pills. I gave those to her myself. I didn’t trust the aides. I had heard stories of pain pills being stolen from patients by aides who would sell them. Gradually I had to have aides to spend more time until they were there every day from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. Even with the help of aides it was hard for me to keep up my work as pastor. It made it harder for me that every member I visited wanted to talk about Laura.

   In the beginning of July, Laura’s doctor, Dr. Rumfeldt said to me,

“In my opinion Laura’s condition is terminal. There is no more treatment for it. All that we can do now is keep her comfortable. Her pain has reached the level that she needs morphine. That has to be administered by a nurse. The nurse will teach you to inject the morphine, but that will only be necessary in unusual circumstances. Call the Delta Hospice Center. Tell them that I am authorizing hospice care for her. They will come to your house, explain their services and have you sign the necessary papers. I want you to understand that in authorizing hospice care, I am certifying that her condition is terminal and that she only has a matter of months to live. I’m sorry Reverend Sterner.”

   That was less than four months ago. The disease continued to eat away at her body and spirit. She was in pain and miserable all the time. She could barely speak and her mind could not compose what she wanted to say. Only her eyes spoke the depths of what she could not say audibly.

   The door bell rang. I went to the door. It was the hospice nurse Patsy Godwin. Patsy is quite chubby. She is always dressed neatly and has her nails done every week. Since it is near Hallowe’en, today she has her nails painted like little jack o’ lanterns.

   “Reverend Sterner, I am so sorry for your loss. I want to wash the body. Then I will collect our equipment. Meanwhile, you can be gathering up Laura’s medications, especially the morphine and other narcotics. I will give you a copy of the inventory of equipment I collect and a list of the medications and their amounts that you return. I will give you signed copies and you will have to sign my copies. Keep them in a safe place. If there is any question later on about either the equipment or the medications, you will have proof of what you returned.”

   I went into my study and got the medicines from a locked container. I returned to the living room and placed them on the coffee table. Patsy made several trips to her car carrying medical equipment from Laura’s room. In about a half hour she came into the living room. She had a form which listed all of Laura’s medicines. She counted each pill or capsule. She counted the number of vials of morphine and estimated the amount that remained in one vial that was half full. She signed both forms and asked me to sign them. Then she gave me a copy of each.

   “You are a preacher and I’m sure you would be able to say something comforting if you were in my place. All I can say is that I’d better not say any more or I’ll start crying. I’m sorry to say goodbye to Laura. She was so sweet.”

   She left the house with tears in her eyes.

   No more than ten minutes later Dr. Rumfeldt came to the house.

   “Rev. Sterner I left my office for a few minutes to come here to see you personally. I have a lot of respect for you. I have seen dozens of preachers come and go in this town. You are one of the best. The reason I left my office is that my nurse told me that gossip started by Mrs. Koontz has spread like wildfire. She has told it around town that Laura was screaming for help and ringing her bell, but you slept through it or maybe weren’t even home. She is telling that Laura died because you didn’t come to her aid. 

   "I want you to know that Laura wasn’t strong enough to scream. Her mouth was open because she was trying to breathe, but couldn’t. She reached for the bell, but died before she could ring it. You would have woke up if she had rang that bell. You have been very faithful in caring for her. I know you are going to be hurt by this gossip. That is why I am here to tell you that I don’t think she called out or rang the bell. If she had done both and you had run to her room, there is nothing you could have done to save her. She lived a lot longer than I expected. You did all that you could. I hope you can find comfort and peace in that.”

   The coroner came shortly after Dr. Rumfeldt left. He was here such a short time that I didn’t catch his name and I don’t remember what he looked like. All I remember is that he said the cause of death was “Cancer resulting in multiple organ failure.” I called the funeral home and about an hour later they came to pick up the body. They told me that I could come down to the funeral home at my convenience to make the arrangements.

   Next, I called Mr. Fike, the Clerk of Session at the First Presbyterian Church. I told him that Laura died, that I thought the funeral would be Sunday afternoon at 4 p.m. at the Church. I asked him to have that notice put in the bulletin and to notify the other members of the Session.

“Sure Preacher Sterner. I sure am sorry to hear about Laura. Too bad you slept through it all.”

The doctor was right. The gossip had spread like wildfire. The thing about gossip is that it doesn’t require any proof. It just has to sound exciting, alarming, or shocking.

   I had an obituary which I had prepared after Laura went into hospice care. I filled in the date of her death and that she had died at home. I put down Saturday 7 p.m. – 9 p.m. at the funeral home as the time for public viewing and Sunday 4 p.m. at First Presbyterian Church as the time for the funeral.

   I took the obituary to the newspaper. This was the first time I had been out of the house. I noticed many people looking at me strangely. The gossip…..

   Back home I picked up the phone and called Philip, Thomas, and Matthew. I called the Red Cross to get the sad news to Nathaniel. This was Thursday. I told them all that we would tentatively schedule the funeral for Sunday afternoon. If it would take Nathaniel longer than that to travel home, we would have to move the day forward.

  That evening I heard from Nathaniel:

   “Dad, I got your message from the Red Cross today. The Army is making arrangements for me to fly home. I’ll probably fly into Memphis and rent a car. You can expect to see me Saturday sometime. Dad, I’m going to miss Mom. Even after she was bedridden she wrote to me every week. Every week, Dad! You can’t imagine how much that meant to me. I love you, Dad. You are a straight shooter – always have been. Mom said time and again that she married you because you are good and kind.”

   I walked around the house. It felt empty.

   Later that evening I received calls from Philip, Tom, and Matthew. Philip and Molly were the only ones bringing their children. Tom was coming alone. Matthew and Traci were coming, but were leaving their boys with the grandparents. They would all be in town Friday evening except Nathaniel who wouldn’t arrive until Saturday.

   I must try to contact Laura’s relatives. I’ll look through Laura’s address book and see if she has any of them in it.

   That night I went to bed but I couldn’t sleep. Why wasn’t I awake like this last night? The doctor and the hospice nurse told me that there is nothing that I could have done. My mind could accept what they said, but my conscience accused me in words similar to the gossip that Avril Koontz is spreading around town. I tossed and turned all night. I don’t know whether I slept or not.

   Friday morning I fixed some instant oatmeal and instant coffee for my breakfast. I went to my study and had my private devotions. Afterward I dressed in a suit and went to the funeral home. The receptionist took me back to Mr. Yarmouth’s office. I gave him the clothes that Laura had picked out months ago. I tried to order a funeral that was modest in cost. I chose one of the “inexpensive” coffins and told him that we would not need a family limousine since we all have cars. I told him the viewing would be Saturday 7 – 9 p.m. and that the funeral would be in the First Presbyterian Church at 4 p.m. on Sunday. Laura and I bought two graves at the cemetery of Hazelwood Presbyterian Church out in the country ten miles from town. That is where she will be buried following the funeral. I gave him a life insurance policy on Laura for $15,000 to guarantee payment for the funeral.

   When I returned home, I went to my study and looked for an old sermon that I could use on Sunday. In the midst of my search the phone rang. It was Mr. Wrangle. He was at the hospital.

   “Preacher, I’m here at the hospital. My wife Deborah is doing poorly. I sure would appreciate it if you would come over and read some Bible and pray over her. The doctor is doing all that he can do. I think he could use some help.”

   My duty as a minister over rode any personal feelings or needs. I agreed to come right away.

ESCAPE - Chapter 1

   I awoke with a start. The sun was streaming in through the venetian blinds. I looked at the clock; it was 8:10 a.m. Jumping out of bed, I ran to Laura’s room. She was lying on her back, mouth open as if screaming, and her right hand gripping the bell. Her limbs were stiff and locked in place; her flesh was cold; she was not breathing. She literally had a death grip on the bell. The bell was a schoolmarm’s bell we had bought years ago in an antique store while on vacation in Maine. For years it had stood on the mantle among other collectibles. When Laura became bedridden, it became useful as a way for her to call for help. During the day time, if her aide or nurse was out of the room, she could call them with the bell. At night in bed I would hear the bell, even if I were asleep, and I would go down the hall to her room and find out what she wanted.

   I went back to my room and hurriedly dressed and shaved. I called the hospice offices. Laura’s nurse, Patsy Godwin, spoke to me.

   “I found Laura in bed stiff, cold, and not breathing. She is dead.”

   “Reverend Sterner, I am so sorry to hear that Laura has passed. I will be there soon to wash the body, collect her medications and equipment, and I will call the coroner. After he has pronounced her dead, you can call the funeral home to come for her body. As you know, according to Laura’s Living Will, there was a Do Not Resuscitate order. Even if she were not cold and stiff, if she just was not breathing, and if her nurse was right there, we couldn’t have tried to get her breathing again. Our role has been to keep her as comfortable and free of pain as possible. I will also call her physician. He may want to talk to you.”

   In the kitchen I toasted a bagel, put cream cheese on it and made a cup of instant coffee. While I was eating my breakfast, the door bell rang. It was Avril Koontz, one of Laura’s daytime aides.

   “Mrs. Koontz, I won’t be needing you from now on. Laura died in her sleep last night.”

   Screaming like a wounded person, she pushed past me and ran into Laura’s room.

   “Oh Mrs. Sterner, oh how can I bear to see you like this? It looks like you were screaming for help and ringing that bell and no one would come to help you. Did your husband go out and leave you by yourself, or was he sleeping so sound that he just didn’t hear you? I’ve been telling him for a long time that he needed to hire some aides to stay here at night. He just smiled and thanked me. Now, see what happened. A dear sweet woman has passed away because no one came when she needed help.”

   “As I said, we won’t be needing you. I’ll see you out now.”

   I took my bagel and coffee in the living room, sat on the living room couch, and tried to calm down after Mrs. Koontz’s outburst. I began thinking back over the years that Laura and I had been together. This year had been our thirty-fifth year of marriage.

   We met while I was in the Air Force. I wandered into a USO in downtown Syracuse, New York. There was a friendly young lady there who greeted me. We talked for a while and I told her that I was looking for a girl to take to the movies that evening.

   “That couldn’t be me. First, because we aren’t allowed to make dates with young men who come in here. Second, and more important, because I am married to a soldier who is in the Army overseas. Listen, you seem like a really nice guy, so  I am going to bend the rules somewhat. This is the phone number of a friend of mine, Laura. Call her up, tell her Madeline gave you her number. Ask her to go to the movies. Maybe she will.”

   Laura agreed to go out with me. I picked her up at her house. It was a shabby looking house in a run down neighborhood. Her clothes were old and tired but clean. She had such a sparkling personality and made me so happy to be with her that I never again noticed her clothes. We dated several times a week after that. She was a senior in high school, two years younger than me. I didn’t often have money to take her to movies or concerts. We mostly walked and talked about our hopes and dreams for the future. I wanted to go into the ministry, but I didn’t have the money to go to college. I was at Syracuse University, studying Russian on Uncle Sam’s nickel. I planned to continue my college work in night school courses while I was in the Air Force. When I finished college then I could go to seminary on the G.I. Bill. 

   Laura wanted to get married to a good, kind, Christian man, and be a wife and mother of three or four children. Her own childhood had been as an only child in a home where her father drank a lot, her mother was constantly complaining, and they both fought with each other almost every night. Laura had made it her goal in life to be happy, to be pleasant to others, and to make them happy. She dreamed of what it would be like for children to be raised by a father who was good and kind and a mother who was pleasant and happy.

   After my courses at the University and after Laura graduated from high school, we became engaged. I was stationed overseas for a year at a remote military post. We wrote to each other several times a week. When I returned, I was stationed outside Baltimore. We were married at South Presbyterian Church in Syracuse. We rented an apartment in a row house in Baltimore.      Laura worked in a dime store during the day while I was at work. Meantime, I continued my studies in night school. A year and a half after our marriage, our first son Philip was born. Then the same month that I graduated from University College, University of Maryland our second son, Thomas was born. I stayed in the Air Force just until the end of August after I received my college degree.

   Then I went to Pittsburgh Theological Seminary. Between part time jobs, supply preaching, and the G.I.Bill I was able to support our family. Laura was very thrifty and creative in making our tiny income go a long way. She sewed curtains for our apartment, made quilts for the bed, gave herself permanents and gave me haircuts. A lot of the wives complained about how poor they had to live. Laura was always happy with every little blessing that came our way. At the end of my second year of seminary, Matthew was born. I wondered how we were going to afford a doctor and the hospital. Laura had become friends with one of the other wives who was a nurse. This young woman had taken a midwifery course. She agreed to deliver our baby at home. Everything went just like clockwork. I suppose if anything had gone wrong, the nurse would have been in big trouble.

   The last year of seminary all of the students were scouting out prospects for churches. Most wanted to go to a large church as assistant pastor. That was the accepted way to move on up to being pastor of a larger church in the next move. I started looking at the multiple church fields and eventually was called to a three church field in West Virginia.

   We moved into a big four bedroom manse that was at least a hundred years old. It was the beginning of summer. One of the church members came over and plowed up part of the back yard for a garden. He said, “We’ll watch how that garden does and judge what the Lord thinks of our new preacher.” Laura took that as a challenge. She went to the store and bought a trowel, a spade, a hoe, and a rake plus a dozen packages of seeds. Then she went to the library and borrowed a book on gardening. Mrs. Moffatt, a jolly older woman who always wore an apron and a sun bonnet, came by one day and saw Laura in the garden. She was on her knees with a trowel in one hand and the gardening book in the other. That story soon spread all over the community and quickly endeared her to the hearts of the people.

   Throughout my ministry she was truly a helpmate. She was supportive when I was discouraged or under attack in my work. She was a wonderful mother. She remembered and made a reality of her dream to raise children in a home that was pleasant and happy.  I hope that I was the sort of father she wanted for her children, one who was kind and good. She stayed at home, preferring to be with the children full time over having more money but less time with the children. After three years in that parish, we had a fourth son, Nathaniel. All of the boys grew up to be well adjusted adults and good parents.

   After the boys were grown and away from home, we used my month vacation time to travel. We went to the Grand Canyon and Pike’s Peak on one trip. Another year we went to Texas and visited Tyler, Austin, and San Antonio. Another year we went to Boston and then on up to Portland, Maine. Laura was so fascinated with the lighthouses that the following year we went to the Outer Banks of North Carolina and saw five lighthouses there. No matter where we went Laura found flower gardens. She especially enjoyed strolling leisurely through formal gardens.

   At the age of fifty two important things happened in Laura’s life. An uncle, her mother’s brother, died. He had no children of his own and had always looked on Laura as the daughter he never had. We had visited him once or twice when we were near his home in Rochester, New York. The last time had been when we vacationed in Boston and Maine. We stopped at his home on the way back. He had a nice house, but nothing ostentatious. When Lyle Ferguson died, he left his home and the bulk of his estate to charity. He left $250,000 to Laura. We put the money in the bank in Laura’s name with my name to receive it in case of death.

    About two months later Laura was diagnosed with breast cancer. The doctor recommended a radical mastectomy and Laura agreed. It was found that some cancer had spread to the lymph glands. We decided to use some of her inheritance to go to the A.D. Anderson Clinic in Houston. There the doctors made the same recommendation that Laura’s doctors in Arkansas made – chemotherapy in conjunction with radiation therapy. They told her she could get both at C.A.R.T.I. in Little Rock.

   The chemotherapy and radiation took a terrible toll on Laura. It made her sick. Her hair fell out. Her happy spirit was not only dampened, but nearly extinguished. I tried to cheer her up, but I never was as good at that as she was. In time the treatments had the desired effect. The doctors pronounced her “cancer free”. She decided to have reconstructive surgery. After all the pain and discomfort of that surgery, it failed and the implant had to be removed. She had post-surgical complications the second time and then developed cellulitis.

   It took almost a year for her to get her strength back, her hair to grow back, her happy spirit to begin to sing again. The people in the church rejoiced at her victory over the BIG C. I had taken so much time off taking Laura to treatments and helping her in the home that we decided to forego taking a vacation that year. I encouraged the boys to come for a visit now that their mother was feeling better. We have seven grandchildren but we rarely have seen them. Philip and his wife Molly came all the way from Montana with their two children.

   Philip is a proverbial country doctor in a small town. He is a “bear” of a man – strong, rough hewn. His brown hair is always tousled and his face is leathery, but he has Laura’s eyes that sparkle when he is happy or when he is mad. Of all of our boys he fits the description “good and kind”. Most of his patients live in the surrounding countryside. He goes to their home or ranch when he is needed in an emergency. Many times he has driven as far as his four wheel drive Jeep Cherokee will go, then borrowed a horse to go the rest of the way. Molly is from Montana, a real country girl. She is a little bit plump, has rosy cheeks and a ready smile. Laura loves Molly and Molly loves Laura. They are kindred spirits. Molly seems to radiate warmth. Philip jokingly calls her “my Burnside stove”. She was raised in a family of boys and her happiness is hearty.

   Nathaniel also came to visit that year. He has made a career of the Army Special Forces. Nathaniel is tall and stands or sits ramrod straight. His face is weathered, his jaws are rigid, and his eyes are steely and alert. Nathaniel has never married. He says that he doesn’t want to leave a wife and children at home while he is sent from one hot spot in the world to another. He has been in more combat than a person should ever have to see. That, I believe, is the real reason that he has never married. His eyes have a haunted look. One time at night he woke up screaming and yelling. He got up and went out walking for hours.

TWO PROCESSIONS

But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere.  For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life. Who is sufficient for these things?  2 Corinthians 2:14-16 (ESV) 

This is one of my favorite passages in the Bible. It is so descriptive. We can see the parade passing by with our triumphant Lord Jesus Christ leading a procession of His followers. Necklaces of flowers adorn some of the heroes of the faith. Petals are tossed on the ground so the feet of the troops marching by crush them and release their aroma. There are shouts of acclaim from the bystanders and flourishes by the bands. Each contingent carries a banner identifying their unit.

At the end of the end of the ceremonial promenade are the captured enemy warriors and leaders. The end of this march will bring them to judgment – death, imprisonment, or slavery. The crushed petal waft the odor of promised death to them.

I thought of this passage of Scripture when I read of Dennis Rodman’s trip to North Korea with some other former professional basketball players from the United States. They will play an exhibition game with a North Korean baskertball team to honor the birthday of Kim Jong-Eun whom Dennis Rodman calls his “friend for life.” 

When the current dictator of North Korea, Kim Jong-Eun led the funeral procession for his father, the previous North Korean dictator, Kim Jong-Il, there were seven other men walking alongside the hearse with Kim Jong-Eun. Their position in this procession declared their power and importance. This was in December 2011.

Since that time three of these seven have lost their power and importance. U Tong-Chuk the head of State Security, and Ri Yong-Ho, a leader in the People’s Army, the Workers’ Party, and the Political Bureau were driven from power. Then several weeks ago, the most powerful man of the seven, Jang Sung-Thaek, the husband of Kim Kyoung-Hui (who is sister of the late Kim Jong-Il) along with Ri Yong-Ho and reportedly eighty others were executed. Said Kim Jong-Eun, “There is no room for two suns in the sky.”

Those of us who are following the Lord Jesus in His triumphal march to present the prizes of His conquests to the Father, do not have to fear that we will be sent to the rear of the procession, lose our position as children of God, and be damned to perdition.

I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father's hand.  John 10:28-29 (ESV)  

CHRISTMAS 1950

When I was twelve, on Saturdays, I went up to the Acme Market with my wagon, stood outside, and asked the shoppers if I could haul their groceries home for them. One Saturday in early December 1950 it was bitter cold. The wind was blowing and it started to snow. Usually we received a dime for each load of groceries. That Saturday I got something else. I came down with a fever and a sore throat.

After several days I was no better and I had sharp pains in my joints. My father called a doctor, making it clear to him that he had no money to pay him. Doctor Levin drove to the housing project where we lived and examined me. He gave my mother sulpha pills for my sore throat and fever. He came back every several days. After a week or so, he told my parents that I had rheumatic fever and that I would have to go to a hospital. He arranged for me to go to Sinai Hospital in Baltimore, Maryland.

Sinai Hospital was across the street from Johns Hopkin’s Hospital and was a research and teaching hospital like Hopkins. Most of its doctors and nurses were Jewish. I was in the children’s ward, a charity ward. Children whose parents could pay were in semi-private rooms.

At twelve years of age I was older than most, if not all, of the two dozen children in the ward. I was in the hospital a couple weeks. When the doctor came around each morning, he was accompanied by a nurse carrying my chart and over a dozen interns. He would explain how my case of rheumatic fever was unique, would show them my joints and the tape from the electrocardiograph machine which showed the anomalies in my heart.

As it drew near to Christmas, the little ones kept asking the nurses, “Will Santa Claus know where I am? Will he leave my present at home?” When no nurses were around we would talk quietly. The kids would ask why there were no Christmas tree or Christmas decorations. With all the sophistication of my twelve years I would say, “You dummies. This is a Jewish hospital. Jews don’t believe in Jesus or celebrate Christmas.”

The day before Christmas all of the children in the ward were taken into a large room. In it were a huge Christmas tree, tables with Christmas decorations, and chairs. First, we had a special Christmas dinner. Then one of the Jewish nurses led us in singing Christmas songs and carols. One of the Jewish doctors played lively piano accompaniment while also singing. Finally, Santa himself came in, dragging a bag too large to carry. Each of us received three or four toys or games or dolls. There were no inexpensive gifts. They were the best dolls, best toys, and best games.

God bless those Jewish doctors and nurses who gave two dozen poor Gentile children the best Christmas they ever had! For a few it was the last Christmas they had.

BUCKWHEAT FLOUR

When we lived in West Virginia, in November the stores would have shelves filled with buckwheat flour. By the end of the month it was gone.  Buckwheat flour was packaged in a heavy, white paper sack tied at the top with a piece of twine string. The bag would have BUCKWHEAT FLOUR, and a simple design like a barn or a tractor. On the bottom would be printed the weight, the mill where it was ground, and the town in West Virginia where the mill was located. On the back of the bag, imprinted with a rubber stamp, there would be a recipe for buckwheat pancakes, or sometimes the recipe was on a slip of paper inside the bag.

To make the batter for buckwheat pancakes, mix buckwheat flour, baking soda, and buttermilk or you can use sweet milk and yeast. Let the batter sit out all night. The next day, add eggs, molasses, and more milk to thin the batter.

Buckwheat pancakes are an acquired taste. My wife and sons never acquired the taste. The pancakes are heavy enough so that a stack of them would hold down a barn roof in a hurricane. A bellyful will keep your feet on the ground in the worst snow squall. They are grey in color like papier mache made from newspapers. I would love to have a stack of them right now.

When I left West Virginia I had to give up a number of foods that are reserved for mountaineers – ramps, salt rising bread, scrapple, leather britches beans cooked with a hunk of salt pork, apples from the sauerkraut barrel, and buckwheat pancakes.

HEINRICH AND HALLOWE'EN

HEINRICH AND HALLOWE’EN

By Troy Lynn Pritt

Over the years, Heinrich the cat learned to hate Hallowe’en. When he was a young and foolish kitten, he ran around excitedly following first one group of trick-or-treaters and then another. He playfully chased the discarded candy wrappers blowing around in the yard. He learned that being a black cat had certain advantages on Hallowe’en night. He could hide behind a tree and jump out at a group of children, arching his back and hissing. The children would squeal, scream, and run away.

He discovered Hallowe’en wasn’t all fun. There was one Hallowe’en when some older boys decided to get back at him for scaring them when they were younger. Several of them came after him with Hallowe’en  masks covering their faces. There was a full moon which meant he couldn’t use darkness to evade them. They put him in a sack with several caramel apples. The more he fought to get out, the more the sticky caramel tangled and matted his fur.

As he grew older, Heinrich spent much less time in playing and more time in napping. Hallowe’en became a noisy interruption to his nocturnal slumbering. There was no place in the house to get away from the repeated sounds of the doorbell ringing, and childish voices squealing “Trick or treat”.

Last year, when he gave up on trying to doze, he decided to have one more fling at scaring the pesky demons. He slipped outside through a group at the door receiving its candy dole. Heinrich found a place to hide until the next gaggle of gigglers arrived. When they were huddled around the door, punching the door bell, he knocked over the broom. The sound was like the report of a gun. When the kids jumped away in fright, he arched his back and hissed like a Bengali tiger. The little monsters ran away in panic.

AT WHOSE EXPENSE?

The current debate and wrangling over the Affordable Health Care Act, the Federal Budget, and the Federal Borrowing Limit has bandied about accusations of Big Brother, taking away personal liberties, destroying business, and a lot of other emotional issues. Please consider with me some basic issues that are not being brought out to the light of day but are at the root of the emotion and energy generated by these issues.

The new health care law is going to raise the cost of health insurance for many people and many businesses. People are now given the chance to purchase health insurance who could not purchase it before because they have preexisting health problems. By excluding them, health insurance premiums were kept lower for the people who had health insurance. Up to now health insurance has been affordable for the majority of people because it was unavailable to those who were high risks. For this and a number of other reasons 41,000,000 Americans did not have health insurance. Before the advent of “Obamacare” health insurance, though expensive, was kept artificially low at the expense of those who need health insurance the most.

The same spirit of “keep the price low for me, I don’t care how” has led to the flight of jobs from the U.S.A. to countries where labor costs are much lower. It has also led to the madness of deficit financing of the Federal budget in the last decades. If an individual consistently spent more than he/she earned and used a credit card to increase their spending; and if this same individual paid only the minimum on their credit card account each month, we would that person is a fool. That is exactly what the Federal government has been doing for years. The voters demand that taxes be lowered and their Congressmen accede to their demands. Now we have a two pronged fiscal crisis involving the Federal budget and the Federal borrowing limit.

Where are the leaders who have the courage to say, “You are going to have to pay higher health insurance premiums so that everyone will have access to health care.” and “You are going to have to pay higher taxes, much higher taxes, so that we can have a truly balanced budget and so that we can begin to make significant reductions in the Federal debt.”?