if I can read the logo, is that plane too close?

How come I can't read the bottle of pain reliever, but I can read the logo on the airplane?

Yeah, I know I'm middle-aged now, even turned another year older this week (I teased E that now I'm only 14 years younger than he is -- he knows, finally, that I don't care about that).

Yes, I have bifocals on order. They've been waiting until I have the additional $166. to pick them up, while my DD has her various needed medical appointments (okay, and I did have a couple). Yes, my current eyeglass prescription is actually fairly close. Yes, I'm keeping the same frames, as it's cheaper and they're a bit wide but otherwise good. Sigh, even if I've had a few people remark how similar they are to a particular Alaskan governor's eyewear.

I can't see a clock on the bedside table unless the numbers are of sufficient size, i.e., large. I keep my cell phone handy, and use that to check the time (and, as an alarm. Someday I'll figure out how to use it as an Mp3 player, too, which it also is).

I can, normally, until this week, read most anything if it's close enough to my face. WithOUT eyeglasses even. I may require more lighting then I cared about in my younger days of say, my 30's. I just retested, yep, get it in my face and I can read anything legible in a language I know. Most of my life, since elementary school, I've been nearsighted.

So, how come even with my glasses on, I cannot quite read much of anything on the bottle of Aleve that E gave me. (I'm out of ibuprofen, and sick. Again. Okay, more like chronically sick but it's swung to worse levels again. Taking ibuprofen has really helped my pains and fever so I can sleep.) I'm not sure if it's the tiny print, the bright blue on white contrast with a sloping (curved bottle) label, or what. I took just one last night, and none yet today because I just can't tell, i.e., fully read the information. I just tried it again, nope. Is it the bright flourescent lighting, or the itsy-bitsy print? (Thankfully, the bottle is openable. I used to hand over my "childproof" capped bottles to my then young daughter, for her to open easily for me whenever I couldn't, and I usually couldn't. We both struggled recently over a Scope travel-size bottle.) Adding: later today, it was easier, somehow. But on the front where it says noproxen sodium, has got to be some of the tiniest font I've seen. Isn't this bit of information important? I thought Aleve was ibuprofen; obviously, it's not. Only as it said "strength to last all day," did I decide one might be enough. That font's legible (and larger). Oy. (I'm buying ibuprofen again, today!)

So on this gorgeous fall day, just brisk enough to feel really good on my warm skin this morning, I was walking Daisy. The leaves brilliant and coloring the grass, the air still a bit moist from recent rains, the plane shining a bit pink in the early light. Wait, how come I can see this plane so well. Hmmm, it's a FedEx plane, an orange and purple logo, etc. I can read this fairly easily albeit it was partially as I recognized the logo, partially as I could make out the letters. Daisy stayed sniffing about, certainly gathering information as to which dog had done what where, and if rabbits or deer or Joshua the cat had wandered by. I thought of the dawning sun tinting things rose-colored while watching this airplane fly slowly by.

Wait. How come I can read that? It's THIS close to me?! Slowly by at a very low, way too low, altitude for where it likely came from.

It'd be nice, but I know my eyesight isn't getting quite THAT good. At one point in my life, apparently shortly before the need for bifocals, ones eyesight can improve before switching again..... I just know I've hit 47 years old, the same age as our President-elect, Senator Barack Obama. I never see him wearing eyeglasses. Hmmm.

FYI -- it could reach 74 F degrees today, here. I pity South Dakota, with over 4 feet of snow and high winds (I heard 60 mph, the mail courier heard up to 100 mph wind). Then mail courier and I got discussing the pros and cons of snow. I don't want it YET, but I do love it.

Glen Echo: summer and other memories (repost)

I was Sir E's guest at a lovely summer wedding. This is a reposting from my "unedited" (private I'm thee only reader not ready for prime time) journal. Except the daggone photo isn't working.

On a dentzel carousel horse ride at Glen Echo at a wedding the end of June. Naturally as the ride ended, and E got off of his horse to come by me for the photo, my horse went up and up and up again. That's why he looks so much shorter on here. I'd like to photoshop this or something and move him up beside me more in the photo.

My father used to go to Glen Echo Amusement park often as a youth, even integrating the crystal pool (swimming pool) when he covered briefly for his friend who had to step away from taking tickets or whatever. (It was not allowed at that time, but was later.) Dad would take my brother and me there when we were children. The place has been renovated over time, and by the time my daughter, M, was little, we'd take her there, the playground and theatre and artists yurts. Then I'd take her. We saw Cinderella puppet plays repeatedly; she took calligraphy camp; we'd play in and alongside the creek. It felt really fitting to be there at this wedding as E's guest, waltzing with him (in the bumper car pavilion, as contra dancing was going on in the renovated Spanish ballroom), and then riding one of the few remaining original dentzel carousels, THIS carousel, Dad's carousel, with the player piano music and repainted ceilings and animals. On my brother Doug's birthday, albeit he never did respond to my birthday card I'd sent him, with notes. Oh, plus this picture turned out, so good (i.e., we both look good, I like how my outfit of pink and silverish turned out). And E liked my pink flirty shoes I actually waltzed in before I changed shoes for more Irish dancing, the lovely bride being a musician in the Irish dance world, it was FANTASTIC music). lol.

Kaput.

They're gone.

Maybe it happened at noon, Eastern (U.S.) time. I don't know.

After midnight, I checked; my AOL journal was still there. As if I was staying up late with a friend you know isn't going to make it the next 24 hours (except, to be honest, I'd MUCH rather have this go, than an actual friend / family member, et al, and there isn't anywhere near the same emotional angst and all that; I still find that somewhat analogous, kay).

I checked this a.m. -- normal. Some comfort in that, some "when will the foot drop?" Now, it has. (Tune in the dirge; I recommend Laura Byrne Egan's air entitled "Och nan Och.")

Billy may never come "home," after all (we'll stay waiting and hoping)

My mother and my aunt Vesta spent a few days in D.C. last week, for a conference where they spent time learning a lot about those who served and died in the Korean War. As Vesta came down from Maine, where my mother and her family are from, her plane fare was paid for.

That first night, my daughter M, boyfriend E, and I joined Vesta and Mom for dinner and socializing. Interestingly, the Cafe Italia was only a few streets away from my late (paternal) grandmother's house in Arlington. If I can figure out how, I may add a photo later. We went to the upper tower of their hotel to view the D.C. skyline before we left.

The next day, their conference settled in for business, including a meeting just with Mom and Vesta on Billy's case. Previously, Mom (and her two surviving siblings, both sisters), provided DNA samples, per request, in hopes of making a match with his remains. My mother said that the overall conference was a lot of information to take in, a lot of good information, just a lot to absorb.

I *think* I have this info correct, from information she relayed last Sunday:

My late Uncle Billy, aka, William Edward Douglas (he listed himself, and his two youngest sisters i.e., Mom and Vesta, with the family name of Douglass), died as a teenaged POW in the Korean War in 1951. He was apparently in Camp 5. My mother said that there were 512 cemetaries in Camp 5. That's a LOT. That the U.S. Government has received 218 boxes. I'm not clear how large these boxes are, and they sounded as if they were not from the area where Billy had been. They do, however, contain many body parts. Jumbled together body parts. The DNA experts could take up to a year (or longer) to know more, having to piece together skeletons. A leg bone may or may not belong with a hip bone.

After all these years, it's encouraging to have any information, any hope. It also gets my mother talking a little bit more about him which has been so difficult over the years. Just, well, it's a slim hope.

1 year

I don't know how many others remember that October 8th was the date we "observed" Columbus Day last year.  Beth and I did.  Maybe my brother Doug did; he actually called me but I just couldn't bear to answer.

It was late morning.  I'd seen him earlier, then helped at M's school for several hours.  I'd just missed him, it seems, albeit I'm told there was about a 95% chance of not surviving, anyway (and then, well, not exactly quality).

E took his two local grandboys and me tubing late summer.  I didn't connect until we were there that we were headed to Harper's Ferry, my father's favorite location of favorites.  Okay, I felt ready, and was glad I was sharing it with him, and even then.  Continuity of life, open up this part of the world, historically, geographically, etc., to new eyes.  Until I saw the postcard, the photo of Jefferson Rock.  It was in the small restaurant where we had a great lunch.  THAT rock, that's Jefferson Rock, and it's HERE?  One of my good memories was of Dad and I camping, and he'd taken photos of me with my then very long hair, at that rock.  I would recognize that rock anywhere, just didn't realize it was at Harper's Ferry.  After my moments, we toured some more, including to that rock.  Jefferson was correct that the view from there was worth the voyage over the Atlantic (paraphrasing).

I did talk "with" Dad this morning, as apparently did my aunt Beth, too.  He's still in his beautiful wooden box, on our table.  Maybe it's time for him to fly, be released......  maybe this 3-day weekend, fall and all.

I miss him.

update:  I did edit this to say October 8th, from October 7th.  Somehow it's letting me edit this NOW, but not previously.  It was nice to see E for about 10 minutes at lunchtime, him asking how my day was going, I looked forward to that.  It still is hard to NOT have my dad around.  And, now I know in advance the very very sweet thoughts and actions of Mary and Amelia, which I quite appreciate:)

Tags: Dad

a new year

A new year. 

A school year still new, with only just over a month into it.  With two new clubs (Equestrian Club which focuses too much on competition for M's strong interest as she likes to ride and train and be with horses for the fun of it, too, and Show Choir, which she had to audition for -- the dancing portion she choreographed while waiting in line to go in lol -- and she made it), and tons of students at a school so large, she got lost on the wrong floor by mistake even today (quickly figured out).  Meaning, also,

a new dance-school year, and new schedules and friends and such.

A Rosh Hashanah (sp).

Almost a year since my father's passing.

Which means not too much longer until a new year of my life, with a new season.  I love autumn, which is beginning with the mini red leaf on green grass, and tinges of yellow in the trees.  It always seems like the real start of a new year to me.  Maybe the Jewish are on to something here.

A new fiscal year.

A new half-year for E and me.  Hey, I can count half-years, too. :)  It's almost all good, and that's great.

Stocks market crash and attempt to rebound; AOL gives away it's journals.  Shaking my head.  (I can't even read blogger blogs from my main computer, so this isn't going to work so well for me.)  And yet while I stay both reflective and absorbed in the midst of my IRL life and M's and E's, and also having been sick for about a month I suppose, etc., I didn't wish AOL to think this journal of mine was inactive so I had to post SOMETHING!  I may as well not try to post an image, eh?  AOL photos is going away, too.

A new year.

Tags: AOL journals; new year, E, M

what remains, perhaps maybe can finally come home?

My mother wrote me this morning.  She and her sisters (the surviving siblings of my uncle Billy) "have been contacted by a man who works for the Army.  His job is to contact next of kin of those who died in Korea.  After talking to each of us, he will send his report to the Army and they, in turn will send us DNA kits, which we return to the Army.  The Army is trying to match DNA's with soldiers' remains from Korea.

 

This man was interesting, he had really done his research, knew most of our history and even had a picture of me from the (name of school Mom attended) school.  Didn't have pictures of (two sisters), since my name was on some of Billy's paperwork he concentrated his serve on me, mostly.

 

Anyway, it exciting to think we could possibly have some of Billy's remains to bury.  In almost every letter he wrote, he mentioned that all he wanted to do was come home.  I pray that will happen."

 

I pray that, also. 

 

For those who don't know, my Uncle Billy signed up to serve in the Korean War when he was actually underage (which I believe is part of why some of his official paperwork has his last name slightly misspelled).  He was trying to keep enough money coming in to pay the foster home people to keep my mother and her youngest sister from being adopted out (they also stayed with their maternal aunt Anais for a bit).  I think.  Their mother had died of a chronic disease when my mother was just 9 years old; their father was able to get himself back on financial track, et al, sufficiently to bring the girls back home (and at some point he remarried). 

 

My Uncle Billy, William Edward Douglas, was captured and kept as a Prisoner of War (POW), and died as a POW.  I believe he died in 1951.  His tour in Korea may have been the only time he was ever out of the state of Maine, or the neighboring states and Canada. 

 

Mom says that, "I talked with the guy this morning and mentioned that on Billy's birth certificate his name is spelled Douglas.  He told me that he had already mentioned to the Army that Douglas could be spelled two ways.  So, it shouldbe ok.  And, we can ask that the records show the correct spelling."  Last time I visited the Korean War Memorial on "the" Mall (Washington, D.C.), Billy's last name had an extra "s" in it, and that's how it shows currently in the online records.  Just NOW they've added, in red, a DOD alert requesting family DNA samples.  http://www.dtic.mil/dpmo/

 

Can Billy really possibly ever come home?  Is there still real honest hope that his remains even be identified?  It seems as if North Korea is so closed off from allowing return of soldiers remains, and the years get longer.  Time passes by.  This would be great. 

 

I waved to the Korean War veterans on Monday, towards the end of the Labor Day parade I'd also been in.  I lost my POW/MIA pin over a year ago; I used to wear it in Billy's honor anytime I was in a parade.   http://www.koreanwar.org

 

May all who serve, or who have served, come home, preferably alive and whole, of course.

Tags: Uncle Billy; William Edward Douglas, Korean War, POW, Mom