Back in my teaching career days, I had a student that had such a quick wit that he was a delight to be around. He is on face-book and when I wrote on my wall that I have shingles and felt like I had bumped my head on a cabinet corner, his retort was 'roofers on a roof seeing stars'. How delightful. You know what they say about punning, it is most certainly true, as we memorized in our confirmation lessons.
My awakening dream took me back to my teaching days and the high school where I worked for 16 years as a television production teacher with a group that put the school news on the cox cable access channel in Omaha. My nightmares have gone from rattlesnakes to teaching and I can see the correlation. Anyway, I felt such profound relief, in my dream, when I told a fellow teacher that this would be my last year. "Now, if I taught say, English Literature, I might go on." How strange is that a thing to say. Maybe not too much so; I got my first ulcer with those cable deadlines.
I found out what the facial shingles really feel like this morning after my spinal- stenosis med wore off during the night. I felt like I had been kicked in the face by a horse. Thank heaven the nerve medication works for the shingles also. I don't mean to rattle on about myself so much. Life is so much more than our bodily miscreants.
Again today, I will work on the errors in my Liz book, while learning MS Office Word 2010. All of those upgrades in the past three years would give anyone the roofer's stargazing syndrome. However, I find things in this upgrade much more to my liking, even if the learning curve is still there. Hopefully, I can master a little bit of it that I need to plod on.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Rattlesnake Venim Like Warfarin
It is remarkable that our prairie ancestors, nor their 12 children, nor their innumerable off spring, ever were bitten by rattlesnakes on that northwest South Dakota prairie. The immigrant father made the children moccasins which were not protection for the fangs of a snake, and not much better for the cactus on the flats. Ranching was close to the ground work and no hole, outcrop of rock, nor patch of brush was off limits.
A home town son, grown man now, was bitten by a rattlesnake recently and was so near death the ER doctors did not think he would live. His loss of blood was startling and the antivenin and transfusions were nearly non stop for the first days. The snake got him in the ankle and right into an artery, he went unconscious immediately. A heroin found him just when he was bitten and called 911.
A home town son, grown man now, was bitten by a rattlesnake recently and was so near death the ER doctors did not think he would live. His loss of blood was startling and the antivenin and transfusions were nearly non stop for the first days. The snake got him in the ankle and right into an artery, he went unconscious immediately. A heroin found him just when he was bitten and called 911.
Friday, July 23, 2010
I wonder what you think of the Facebook phenomenon? When I first signed on I found it so overwhelming after two days that I went off and didn't log into it for many days.
A few days ago I had a fairly long discussion in the little box on Facebook, with a brother in law who was on at the same time. He wondered why I didn't call for his email address instead of having him email it to me. I told him I was a phonophobe. I would rather write three pages of stuff than dial a phone. He thought it very odd. Another brother in law asked HWMBO why I didn't talk to him on the phone. He told him I don't talk to anyone.
I do, of course, talk to people on the phone. In fact on the days that I feel lonely and friendless, I am glad for a telemarketer who is taking a poll and has lots of questions. When I call the Microsoft help people in India, it is nice to know what time it is there and how is the weather? I spoke to a Sony Television fellow from the Manila who helped me find all those digital channels that the new sets decode without purchasing cable. It took forever for both of us, me letting the channels roll along, he waiting. We got quite well acquainted. When that was done, I could have gone through the same thing for the analog channels but I was exhausted and he probably needed to clear his head.
But I can't go on and on this way about the telephone. Once I wished I had a cell phone. What would I do with it but call AAA with a car problem. Not having driven for a couple of years, I sure don't need one anymore. I can put a house phone beside the walking machine, if I think I will fall off of that.
A few days ago I had a fairly long discussion in the little box on Facebook, with a brother in law who was on at the same time. He wondered why I didn't call for his email address instead of having him email it to me. I told him I was a phonophobe. I would rather write three pages of stuff than dial a phone. He thought it very odd. Another brother in law asked HWMBO why I didn't talk to him on the phone. He told him I don't talk to anyone.
I do, of course, talk to people on the phone. In fact on the days that I feel lonely and friendless, I am glad for a telemarketer who is taking a poll and has lots of questions. When I call the Microsoft help people in India, it is nice to know what time it is there and how is the weather? I spoke to a Sony Television fellow from the Manila who helped me find all those digital channels that the new sets decode without purchasing cable. It took forever for both of us, me letting the channels roll along, he waiting. We got quite well acquainted. When that was done, I could have gone through the same thing for the analog channels but I was exhausted and he probably needed to clear his head.
But I can't go on and on this way about the telephone. Once I wished I had a cell phone. What would I do with it but call AAA with a car problem. Not having driven for a couple of years, I sure don't need one anymore. I can put a house phone beside the walking machine, if I think I will fall off of that.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Wounded Healers
Listening With Our Wounds
"To enter into solidarity with a suffering person does not mean that we have to talk with that person about our own suffering. Speaking about our own pain is seldom helpful for someone who is in pain. A wounded healer is someone who can listen to a person in pain without having to speak about his or her own wounds. When we have lived through a painful depression, we can listen with great attentiveness and love to a depressed friend without mentioning our experience. Mostly it is better not to direct a suffering person's attention to ourselves. We have to trust that our own bandaged wounds will allow us to listen to others with our whole beings. That is healing." Henri Nouwen
That Henri Nouwen had a lot to say about the human condition. I suppose we all need a wounded healer as a listener now and then and sometimes on a daily basis for a spell. I am not indicating that I need a listener just at the moment; only recalling when I could have used one. I think about others that need this sort of listener. My brother in law at the moment is suffering the wrath of Guillian-Barre' Syndrome. What a wicked disease.
Our trip to the Black Hills to my maternal family reunion was balm to my soul, as I so seldom see my own relatives. I took my three year project to give away in the "Proof Copy" state in which I still am at the moment. So swallowing my pride, with my humble hat in hand, I gifted 80 copies to the relatives of my "Aunt Liz." During the period of research, editing, writing, scanning in photos, and thinking on those brave immigrants, I fell in love with all of them once more. I say all, as Aunt Elizabeth was my Grandmother's sister and one of 12 children of their parents who immigrated from Finland at the ages of 19 and 15.
I will work again on proof reading. He Who Must Be Obeyed is an excellent proof reader and he indicated he will read it a few times, also. Then I will send a couple of copies and request a copyright and cataloging from the Library of Congress. I am not certain if it would have a wide enough audience to seek a 'real' publisher or not. Perhaps I will querry the SD State Historical Society to see if they might be interested.
It is good to be back here again. Thanks to you dear readers who have checked to see if I am back online.
"To enter into solidarity with a suffering person does not mean that we have to talk with that person about our own suffering. Speaking about our own pain is seldom helpful for someone who is in pain. A wounded healer is someone who can listen to a person in pain without having to speak about his or her own wounds. When we have lived through a painful depression, we can listen with great attentiveness and love to a depressed friend without mentioning our experience. Mostly it is better not to direct a suffering person's attention to ourselves. We have to trust that our own bandaged wounds will allow us to listen to others with our whole beings. That is healing." Henri Nouwen
That Henri Nouwen had a lot to say about the human condition. I suppose we all need a wounded healer as a listener now and then and sometimes on a daily basis for a spell. I am not indicating that I need a listener just at the moment; only recalling when I could have used one. I think about others that need this sort of listener. My brother in law at the moment is suffering the wrath of Guillian-Barre' Syndrome. What a wicked disease.
Our trip to the Black Hills to my maternal family reunion was balm to my soul, as I so seldom see my own relatives. I took my three year project to give away in the "Proof Copy" state in which I still am at the moment. So swallowing my pride, with my humble hat in hand, I gifted 80 copies to the relatives of my "Aunt Liz." During the period of research, editing, writing, scanning in photos, and thinking on those brave immigrants, I fell in love with all of them once more. I say all, as Aunt Elizabeth was my Grandmother's sister and one of 12 children of their parents who immigrated from Finland at the ages of 19 and 15.
I will work again on proof reading. He Who Must Be Obeyed is an excellent proof reader and he indicated he will read it a few times, also. Then I will send a couple of copies and request a copyright and cataloging from the Library of Congress. I am not certain if it would have a wide enough audience to seek a 'real' publisher or not. Perhaps I will querry the SD State Historical Society to see if they might be interested.
It is good to be back here again. Thanks to you dear readers who have checked to see if I am back online.
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