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Friday has rolled around, the Fictioneers under the auspices of Rochelle Wisoff Fields and wth photo prompt provided by C.E.Ayr compete to present a story, beginning, middle and end in 100 words or less.

A quick search of history provided this information, Sep 1 Future Baseball Hall of Fame 1st baseman Lou Gehrig hits his 3rd grand slam in 4 days & 6th homer in consecutive games in NY Yankees’ 5-1 win v Boston Red Sox

And here we go: September 2, 1931

The door knob! The pain! Ranger shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs.

“What the?” Nothing was right. The derelict house was new painted, the lawn mowed, fence intact. He shook his head again.

Looking toward Main Street, it wasn’t HIS Main Street. “Where am I?”

“I’ve seen cars like that. Ah, Grans living room!”

He saw a boy race by, carrying a newsbag filled with papers.

“Hey Jock, you’re late! Lou Gehrig hit another grandslam. Can you believe it?”

And Ranger remembered. He lived here, so long ago.

He grabbed his glove and ran.

Hey, Marshal Dillon


Much of Hubby’s TV time is spent watching episodes of Gunsmoke. Sometimes several hours a day. Once in a while he gets obsessed with some other program on Netflix or one of the other ‘re-run channels’, but after a while it’s back to Marshall Dillon and the denizens of Dodge.

He does not often remember that the same show was on a week ago, or they have been on so many times, I can recognize many from just a few minutes of dialog. Mostly, they are ‘new’ to him.

I think perhaps, since Gunsmoke was a weekly event years ago, that these repeating episodes may be a comfort to him. Something that feels ‘normal’.

That’s pretty important, I know there are many times that things do not feel normal or comfortable. I see it in his face, in his actions.

Today, we were blessed with a visit from our newest married grandson and his wife and baby and another grandson. Hubby played a bit with the baby and directed the boys to do some yard cleanup.

You hang on to the good things, and do the best you can with the others.


It’s Monday, and already a long day in the world of a caregiver and my caregivee.

We started out this morning with a discussion of ‘why do we need to do this?” Blood sugar, Blood pressure and Oxygen saturation which is daily sent to the VA.

My answer, “Because they need to keep track”, did not seem to satisfy. Neertheless, we did the things and the data was sent.

Last week, Hubby saw the pulmonary folks, I’ve been mentioning to anyone who’d listen that his oxygen numbers were less than the desird 93%.

Even though he’s on oxygen at night, and using two different broncodilators, his morning reading is often in the 85-90 range.

After a pulmonary function test, where his numbers dropped to 80 and the tech had to put oxygen on him to get it back up to 90. it was decided he needed supplemental oxygen when he is ‘short of breath’ during the day.

The oxygen man has been here, portable tanks are in place and we have both had a lesson in the proper operation. The man couldn’t have been back to the highway before I was asked if this is going to do any good.

Honestly, I do not know. I do know that getting better oxygen may help some of the muscle pain when you walk, and it may help your brain work better too.

So for now, we will be monitoring this more closely, watching for breathing difficulties and adding a few more requests to the prayer list.

Yes, he napped in front of the TV, but he got dressed. Count the blessings and be thankful every day.

Yes, we can!


September brings another virtual Alzheimer’s fund raising walk, this one in San DIego County CA. Or anywhere else you might happen to be, from Maine to Mexico.

We have a better team and some extra time to plan. I ask that you consiedr joining the team, or donating if you can.

If you read yesterday’s blog, you understand why I am walking.

Today, I reminded Hubby he needed to change clothes, (he’s worn those pajamas since Thursday). He got out a clean shirt and a pair of camo pants, his usual dressed at home attire. He had to take 3 tries to manage to get his suspenders fixed on the pants.

Seeing the look of bewilderment on his face as he struggled to get it right was hard. The question I am faced with, do I help or advise, or let him be?

Often, if I intrude on his efforts, it triggers anger. Frustration is his constant companion, whether it is dressing, remembering a person, taking his meds, an endless list.

I try to remain quiet, letting him struggle, eventually he gets it right.

THis is a step in his walk, and I hope they find a cure or at least better treatments before he walks into the depths of this disease.

Here is the link to ‘Our Team’, thanks for reading.

so, I am walking


This is the day for The Alzheimer’s Walk. It’s a small thing I can do. This year it’s a virtual walk and can be done anywhere. Mine is here along our road on Sunrise Ridge.

I joined my daughter’s team, along with a few others. We are walking for my husband, and anyone who has been diagnosed with dementia. In case you do not know, it’s a hard thing to live with, for him and for me as caregiver.

So, I am walking.

Earlier this past week, I was really ill with food poisoning and dehydration. Go to the doctor ill, in fact. Hubby’s needs, however, are becoming greater. He sits in front of his TV, still in Pajamas, dozing in and out. Refusing his supplemental oxygen. This is today, and yesterday, maybe tomorrow it will be the same. Or perhaps something new will happen.

One thing I know, it is not getting better, nor will it.

So, I am walking.

I put on my whte hat, weren’t all the cowboy heros wearing white hats, back in the day? Donned my favorite tie dye shirt, a symbol for love and peace. Picked up my rose printed cane, so I could go the distance. My favorite walking shoes, sturdy and comfortable go on my feet.

I can do this!

So, I am walking

One little thing, out team has met it’s pledge goal, and I walk, down our ramp and onto the road. My goal is simple, slow and easy. Take some time to enjoy the outdoors. Just breathe, someone is giving me a break and accept the peace.

So, I am walking.

Along the way, I see the signs of Autumn, the last summer flowers, turning leaves. The shutting down of a season of growth and color.

The end of what was.

So, I am walking

Friday the 13th – part 2


Last week I wrote a beginning, middle and end to match a photo prompt on Friday Fictioneers.

This week, our feerless leader Rochelle, posted this photo by J. Hardy Carroll which triggered a bit more of the story.

So, here it goes. In 100 words or less, (74 this week) a story

Ranger leaned against the picket fence, puzzled.

What happened to Jarod? To Link? To Mickey? That flash of light and just GONE!

“I need to know”, said his twelve year old brain. Slowly he crept to the porch, much like his friends had done.

Peering over the sill into a web-covered window, he was treated to a sight of dancing bodies, undulating energy.

“Me too!” He reached for the knob.

The door was now locked. Ranger screamed in pain.

Friday the 13th


From a photo prompt a story in 100 words or less is the challenge. Here is mine in less than 80 words.

“Dare you!” Ranger yelled, racing along the picket fence to the corner. “Scaredy-cat!”

The taunts hit Jarod like licks to the gut, he knew he had to do it. Ranger raced back, shoving Jarod to the gate.

Slowly, Jarod pushed the gate open, sidling to the porch and up the stairs. As he pushed the door open, bright light flashed and he disappeared.

“Ha!” snapped Ranger, “Another one! I wonder where they go?”

Anniversary of a miracle


On a lovely summer afternoon, 18 years ago today, I received a phone call from my father, asking me to ‘get over there right now!’

When I arrived, both Mom and Dad were extremely upset, as I was tasked to call people and do necessary tasks, my brother, living in Tennessee had been injured; badly.

While mowing his lawn a car careened through his yard, hitting him and tossing him into the air.

Serious head injuries topped the list, as we spoke to his wife and began to weed out details. At best the situation was critical and frightening.

Brother’s youngest son, then a Marine, had boarded ship for exercises just a few days before. One of my tasks was to get involved with the Red Cross and at least let the boy know his father was injured.The Red Cross, on that hot day went to work and before long, the boy was being helicoptered off the ship and heading for the USA.

Meantime, his other 3 children had to be notified and things done.

This story, unlike many TBI stories, has a happy ending, from July 27 to mid- February, Brother fought, and fought HARD. A couple of times,doctors told us there was not a lot of hope.

In February, he came home, faced with still an uunbelievable amount of rehab. I was able to go stay with him and his lovely wife for a time to help with that process.We are blessed to have him! God is good!

He may not be 100% but he is sure 1000% better than he might have been and as a family we are whole.

Seth Alexander and a new dad


A former classmate of great grand daughter was recently adopted by his loving step-father. Seth worked very hard to present his new dad a book to let him know the importance of this event.

I am posting a few pages to show why so many people teared up.

Watching as Seth and his family have grown into an incredible, inspiring family has been a pleasure and I hope to be able to continue to be a part of their lives for a long time to come.

Early Thirty


From my journal, June 2, 2020

It’s the best place to be, my lawn chair solid on the gravel bar, hot coffee in my mug. Quiet time on Current River!

A gentle scent of wood smoke from a nearby camp, fine mist rising from the river. The sky is light, but the sun hasn’t yet reached over the bluff.

Sweet music, water gently rippling over rocks, and birdsongs start the day.

This morning I think of the old song, Morning has broken, Like the first morning, blackbird has spoken, like the first bird.

A raccoon came by in the very early morning to inspect camp sanitation, He moved on after digging a couple of unburned paper plates from the fire pit. We took care of the issue.

Hubby is already fishing. I took a cup of reviving morning elixir down to him, He showed me where a family of otters had been playing, or maybe fishing themselves. Webbed tracks in the sand also attest to their presence.

Back at the camper, another cup for myself, life is good. I feel that peace like a river. I’ll take that!