Santa Needs Helpers by Betty Kaiser

Dear Readers,
For the last 20 years, it has been my tradition to share an old-fashioned holiday story in this column. This year’s story is a repeat from an anonymous reader in 2009. The premise is simple: we’re never too young (or too old) to practice a random act of kindness and be Santa! 

 

The setting is small town America, about 1950. Our narrator is an eight-year-old youngster. He begins …

“I was just a kid when I had my Christmas adventure with Grandma. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her one December day. Before I left, my big sister had dropped the bomb: “There is no Santa Claus,” she jeered. “Even dummies know that!”

I immediately fled to my grandmother because I knew she would be straight with me. Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. She always told the truth and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her “world-famous” cinnamon buns. (I knew they were world-famous because she said so.)

Grandma was home and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me.

“No Santa Claus?” she snorted. “Ridiculous! Don’t you believe it! That rumor has been going around for years and it makes me mad; just plain mad!

“Now, put on your coat and let’s go.” “Go? Go where, Grandma?” I asked. I hadn’t even finished the last of her world-famous cinnamon buns.

‘Where’ turned out to be Kerby’s General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of everything. As we walked through the store’s door, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.

“Take this money,” she said, “and buy something for someone who needs it. I’ll wait for you in the car.” Then she turned and walked out of Kerby’s.

I was only eight years old. I’d often gone shopping with my mother but I had never shopped for anything all by myself. The store was big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.

For a few moments, I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, and the people who went to my church.

I was just about thought out when I suddenly remembered Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock’s grade-two class.

Bobby Decker didn’t have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note telling the teacher that he had a cough. All of us kids knew that Bobby Decker didn’t have a cough; he didn’t have a good coat!

I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm. He would like that.

“Is this a Christmas present for someone?” the lady behind the counter asked kindly as I laid my ten dollars down. “Yes, ma’am,” I replied shyly. “It’s for Bobby.”

The nice lady smiled at me as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn’t get any change but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again and wished me a “Merry Christmas.”

That evening when Grandma helped me wrap the coat, a little tag fell out and she tucked it in her Bible. We wrapped the coat up real pretty with paper and ribbons and wrote, “To Bobby, from Santa Claus,” on a gift tag.

Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker’s house. She explained as we went, that I was now and forever, officially, one of Santa’s helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby’s house and we got out of the car. She and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then she gave me a nudge. “All right, Santa Claus,” she whispered, “get going.”

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness.

Finally, the door opened and there stood Bobby. Fifty years haven’t dimmed the thrill of those moments spent beside my Grandma, shivering in Bobby Decker’s bushes delivering his gift.

That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were — ridiculous! Santa was alive and well. We were on his team. And to prove it, I still have Grandma’s Bible with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.”

Well, that’s it for this year, folks. As we pray for peace on earth and good health around the world, let’s also be alert if we see someone who needs a Santa’s helper. It might be you — whatever your age may be. Merry Christmas and 

God Bless you all!

                            

Betty Kaiser's                 12/23/09 Chatterbox

 Cottage Grove Sentinel 

Contact by email bchatty@bettykaiser.com  

                                      

   

                                                 

 

 

 

 

Giving Thanks in Tough Times!

 11/19/20 Chatterbox
Betty Kaiser

Here in the USA we happily set aside one day every year to join with family and friends, eat too much and count our blessings. Normally, there’s a whole lotta cooking going on, grandkids to be hugged, family gossip to be caught up with and blessings to be shared. It’s called Thanksgiving

This year is a little different. The meaning of the day is the same but this time, for many people, it’s hard to find a blessing to count.

Early this year, a previously unknown killer virus —Covid-19— began making its way around the world. In spite of masks and social distancing, things have not gotten better. People are still getting sick, dying and fearful uncertainty abounds.

Then, to top it off, hanging over our heads is the most controversial Presidential Election—ever! Tempers are hot, name calling is rampant and common sense is ignored. What a year!

Looking back, I imagine that’s how the Pilgrims felt in 1621. They were pretty excited as they arrived on the shores of the New World in 1620. However, after they endured the trip across the ocean on the Mayflower, more challenges and grief awaited them than expected.

That first winter more than half of the new Plymouth colonists died from malnutrition, disease and exposure to the harsh weather. The others  were helped to survive by the Wampanoag Native Americans who taught them how to grow food and later made a peace pact with them.

The Pilgrim’s first Thanksgiving is believed to be in the autumn of 1621. After a horrible year of deaths and near survivor starvation, the remaining Pilgrims celebrated their harvest with a festival as was the custom in England. The now 50 colonists were joined by about 90 Wampanoag tribesmen.
Historical accounts are sketchy but it seems that they celebrated together with joy. For 3 days, they ate their harvested crops and venison from the tribesman. They played ball games, sang, danced and ate along with the Native Americans who had helped them survive.

Each side prayed and thanked their gods during the three-day celebration. The Pilgrims were religious separatists from the Church of England and worshipped one God. The native tribe of Wampanoag was also deeply religious.They worshipped idols and paid homage to more than one God.

We celebrate this well known story as the first Thanksgiving in the New World. Unfortunately, peace didn’t last between the English settlers and their one-time Wampanoag allies. There was a horrible war in 1675 and the natives were massacred.

A yearly blessing of gratitude for harvested crops has been in place in most countries of the world for centuries and remains so today. However, it took the United States awhile to make it a federal holiday.

A woman is credited with making Thanksgiving happen. Sarah Josepha Hale, editor of Godey’s Lady Book —a colonial women’s magazine—wrote letters over 36 years to five presidents requesting the holiday to unify the northern and southern parts of the country.

But it was her letter to President Abraham Lincoln that convinced him to support legislation establishing the holiday. In 1863, he proclaimed a national Thanksgiving Day each November.

Later, President Franklin Roosevelt, signed a resolution making the fourth Thursday in November as the Federal Thanksgiving holiday. The date was formally approved by Congress in 1941.

So, what are you thankful for this Thanksgiving? Some years it’s harder than others to be thankful: Times of war, the loss of loved ones and lingering illness, are especially hard. Perhaps we should think like Pilgrims.

This year, for our protection, Governor Brown has imposed rules to keep us healthy to slow down the coronavirus pandemic. Restrictions have been put on everyday activities like shopping and dining out. Limited socialization with friends and family is especially hard to cooperate with. Isolation is never fun on holidays.

At our house there will just be two of us and the Dachshunds to celebrate Thanksgiving. There will be no large family gatherings or feasting for three days. Probably no games will be played unless it’s Pinocle or UNO.

However, life will go on. Dinner will be topped off with pumpkin pie. A deer or two will wander around looking for roses in the garden. Squirrels will chase each other up the trees; birds will empty their feeders and raccoons do whatever they do!

Our gratitude will be all about the basics. We have each other, good friends and neighbors, live in a warm house, have food to eat and wildlife to entertain us. Family will check in from all over the country. Just hearing their voices will bring smiles.

Our biggest blessing will be the ones that we don’t have—like the Covid virus. And our most fervent prayers will be for those who are lying in a hospital bed fighting for their lives, mourning the loss of loved ones or homeless in the cold.

God help us all! We can do this! Have a happy memories Thanksgiving!

Contact Betty Kaiser’s Chatterbox by email bchatty@bettykaisr.com

Betty Kaiser's Chatterbox

CG Sentinel

October 22, 2020

VOTE!

 

 

Greetings, fellow voters! Four years have gone by since our last presidential election and it’s time to vote again. To say the least, this year of a deadly pandemic and politics has been overwhelmingly exhausting. I will be so glad when both of them are over.

 

Since the office of president in the United States was established in 1789, forty-five men have served as president. The first, George Washington, won a unanimous vote of the Electoral College. It has not happened since.

 

The other day I sat down and read the presidential list, beginning with Washington and ending with Trump. What an interesting and diverse group of 45 individuals have served in the same governing position!

 

I was 21 years old when I cast my first presidential vote in 1960. I grew up in a politically divided family. Discussions were heated. I vividly remember watching conventions on television with my grandfather. So, I registered as a Republican because my mother’s family were dogmatic Republicans.

 

Dad was an equally dogmatic Democrat from Missouri like Harry S. Truman. He and ‘his’ president were both “The buck stops here” kind of men. However, dad later voted for, praised and supported Ronald Reagan! 

 

Along the voting path, I became an Independent voter. I vote for the person that I feel is most qualified, honest, has the country’s best interests at heart and is experienced enough to run the country. I am still a registered Republican, but misguided party lines or candidates don’t buy my vote. 

 

Since my first vote, no two elections have been alike. Some results I agreed with. Others I didn’t. What I do agree with is the system. It’s the only way to make your voice heard and it mostly works.

 

One of my voting adventures was after Chuck and I moved our little family of five to Ventura, California, in 1964. At that time polling places were sometimes held in homes on the outskirts of town.

 

I volunteered our garage. A couple of other neighbors and I went to training classes and on election day we opened the garage door at 8 a.m. and worked steadily until the “polls” closed at 8 p.m. Then we counted the votes!

 

After we moved to Oregon in 1989, I remember voting at the Cottage Grove Grange until vote by mail began in 2005. Yea! As far as I’m concerned, that was the greatest thing since sliced bread, and I think most Oregonians agree. Hopefully, the rest of the country will get on the band wagon soon.

 

Ballots have been mailed for next month’s election and soon we’ll know which candidate has won. Who will win? Who knows? Let’s be honest, as we rush to the finish line, it’s been a nasty campaign trail, complicated by the horrible Covid virus and more. 

 

Historically (minus a pandemic), this is not unusual. Almost anyone can run for President and say what they want to. Running for the highest office in the land has few qualifications. If I read the Constitution correctly, you and I could run for president. It says:

 

“No person except a natural born citizen, or a citizen of the United States, at the time of the adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the office of President; neither shall any person be eligible to that office who shall not have attained to the age of thirty-five years, and been fourteen years a resident within the United States."  Term limits were added later.

 

The result has been a mixed bag of outstanding, good, bad and mediocre presidents. I read somewhere that four years in the Oval Office is a bit of a fruit salad of domestic, foreign, political and personal activity. You must be prepared because you never know what will be in the bowl. 

 

The following names are often listed as the top 10 rated (or Great) presidents. Most of the lists I saw based their decisions on leadership qualities; closely followed by education, morals, lawfulness.

 

 George Washington and Abraham Lincoln often vie for the first spot. Sometimes (but not always!) they are listed in this order:

Abraham Lincoln

Franklin D. Roosevelt

George Washington

Theodore Roosevelt

Thomas Jefferson

Harry S. Truman

Woodrow Wilson

Dwight D. Eisenhower

Ronald Reagan

 

There are also lists of what are called “forgotten presidents.” These presidents usually served early on for only one term and/or died in office.They are rated as average or poor by scholars suggesting that people are more likely to remember “the greats.” In no particular order they are:

Millard Fillmore

Franklin Pierce

Warren G. Harding

Chester A. Arthur

Rutherford B. Hayes

James Buchanan,

Martin Van Buren,

Zachary Taylor,

James Garfield

William McKinley

Soon we will know who has inherited the #46 fruit bowl. So, if you haven't already, agree with the system and VOTE!

 

P.S. Still unsure who to vote for? Check out some online quizzes like:

https://www.newsweek.com/who-should-you-vote-2020-presidential-election-this-quiz-will-tell-you-1491318

 

                  Contact Betty Kaiser’s Chatterbox by email at:  bchatty@bettykaiser.com

 

 

 

 

HONORING COL. KIRSTEN M. PALMER

The Chatterbox 

September 10, 2020

Cottage Grove Sentinel

“

"Things can get tough but persevere.
You never know what opportunity is around the corner.”
Col. Kirsten M. Palmer

A United States Air Force retirement ceremony was held August 2, 2020, at McChord Field, Washington, in honor of Colonel Kirsten M. Palmer for her 25 years of service.

In attendance were her husband, retired Lt. Col. Roger Lang, her daughter Addyson (11), son  Archer (18 mo.), her parents Ron and Linda Palmer, brother Matt Palmer and multiple Air Force members who had recently served with her at McChord Field.

Kirsten’s career dreams began in an 8th grade science class at Lincoln Middle School. Studying the stars and planets of our solar system, installed in her a desire for space travel as an astronaut.

Her retired Air Force uncle recommended the following path to follow after graduating from CGHS in 1991: “First, become a pilot. Do that by joining the Air Force and attending the Air Force Academy.”  Kirsten set the plan in motion, applied and was accepted at the Academy.

At a summer program at Mountain Home Air Force Base in Idaho, Kirsten changed her mind about being a pilot. She spent three weeks shadowing young officers in different career fields that increased her horizons.

She says, “I spent a day with an aircraft maintenance officer and immediately knew that was the career path I wanted. Not only are you around aircraft all day but you get to lead the incredibly skilled aircraft maintainers and resolve issues that are impediments to making the mission happen.”

She earned her commission from the Academy in May 1995 but the learning never stopped. In layman’s terms, as an officer, her crew’s job was to keep the airplanes flying—to get the mission done and every Airmen home. So as she mentored, gave directions and coached others, she was always taking classes too.

During her 25 year career, Palmer served in a variety of assignments in various locations, including 11 years at the Pentagon. She finished at Lewis-McChord Field, Washington

One of her favorite assignments was at Spangdahlem Air Base and Ramstein Air Base in Germany where she met her husband Roger. They were in the same squadron. He flew the C-9 aircraft and her maintainers fixed and serviced the aircraft.

In Germany she not only met her future husband but became fast friends with several women who remain in contact today. There was also time to ski the Alps and see the sites all around Europe.

As an officer, she was always appreciative of those who worked with her. Her squadron commander at Charleston Air Force Base SC was deployed for 6 months. As second in command, she stepped in as acting commander of a 600 person unit.

She says, “It was a huge responsibility for a 32-year old but I was surrounded by a great group of officers and my Airmen flourished! We ended up winning an Air Force and Department of Defense level award for outstanding maintenance during that time period.

Later, at McChord Field, two of my Airmen had a great idea to create a tool that would maintain batteries for a C-17 easier, more cost effective and safer. They pitched the idea to Air Force leadership and 500 Airmen at a convention center. It was approved and now the base will receive a state of the art 3D printer to help Airmen do their jobs.”

The Air Force has been a rewarding profession for Col. Palmer in many ways. In addition to the satisfaction of serving her country at the different assignments, she has earned multiple education degrees (including the Eisenhower School for National Security and Resource Strategy), many other major awards and decorations, as well as promotion to Colonel.  

Nevertheless, all good things must come to an end. I asked Kirsten why she was retiring now and she said:

“I figured a quarter of a century is a nice round number of years to serve my country. My priorities in life have changed. I want to spend more time with my family and be there more for my kids. They are only young once and I want to create amazing memories like I have of my Mom when I was a child.

“At some point I’ll probably get back into the job market with a part-time job. Until then, I’m going to enjoy being a Mom, catching my breath and reflect on the eventful last 25 years—the people I’ve met, the places I’ve been and the things I’ve gotten to do that I never imagined when I left Cottage Grove in 1991 and headed to the Air Force Academy.”

Thank you, Kirsten, for a job well done serving your country and being an inspiration for all young people to follow their dreams. Enjoy the memories. A new life of opportunities and challenges await. You are an inspiration.
 
                Contact Betty Kaiser’s Chatterbox at email bchatty@bettykaiser.com


 

GOOD NEWS: TEENAGER FINDS/RETURNS A LOST WALLET

 

7/2/2020 The Chatterbox 

Cottage Grove Sentinel

Betty Kaiser

For many years I wrote a weekly “Neighborhood News” column.  It was always a high point in my day when readers would call, email or write me notes about good things that were happening in their lives and neighborhoods.

I have one of those good news columns today. I heard the following story somewhat belatedly and tucked it away in my memory bank only to lose it! I remembered it this week and asked the family to share it with you. This local heartwarming  story began in Creswell, in April 2018.

One Saturday morning, Kaila Ollivant (a then 16 year old sophomore at Cottage Grove High School) and two friends pulled into the Creswell Coffee Shop* for some breakfast before going shopping. As they parked, Kaila felt the car run over something. Getting out of the car she discovered the “something” was a smashed wallet.

She took pictures of the wallet that contained the usual stuff plus a family heirloom money clip and a significant amount of money. It also contained a school ID of a young teen, Keaton S., in the 7^th grade in North Hollywood, California. The distance didn’t discourage Kaila. She was determined to find him and return the wallet and its contents.

She began at the Creswell Police Dept. but they are closed on weekends. She then left a note at the Coffee Shop and took the wallet home where she and her mom Tracy brainstormed. So many questions. North Hollywood is a long ways away and it was Spring Break. How did the wallet end up in a Creswell parking lot? Perhaps, he and his family were passing through the area on vacation? They called the Creswell hotels with no success.

The following Monday Tracy called the student’s school  and inquired if he still attended there. Eventually, someone said yes and they would contact his family. Within minutes, she received a call from Keaton’s dad. He couldn’t believe that the wallet had been found and that everything was intact. He called Kaila their “Angel” and filled in the blanks on how the wallet got there.

Keaton’s grandparents live in Creswell and he came up  to visit during Spring Break. He had been staying there and doing chores to earn money to open his first bank account. Ironically, he had gone on a bike ride with his now missing wallet and lost all his hard earned money.

When he discovered it was gone and told his grandmother, she said (as all good grandmothers do), “That is why I told you to put your money in your suitcase until you get home so you won’t lose it!” A lesson learned like most of us do—the hard way.

After Keaton’s dad told him that his wallet had been found, his parents said he was on Cloud 9! “He spent the night singing the praises of Kaila and the entire state of Oregon. He even talked of attending the University of Oregon!” Now that’s joy and gratitude!

The wallet was soon sent from Oregon to a grateful Keaton in Calif.  In the meantime, both families had discussions about the wallet’s journey and life’s learning experiences of character building, including responsibility, ethics and treating people as you want to be treated.

But the story continues. A sum of money had been offered to Kaila as a finder’s fee but she declined. Keaton wrote Kaila thanking her for being so kind and awesome. He was so grateful to have the money and items returned. He wanted to repay her in some way so he purchased a gift card at the coffee shop for her and her friends to go for breakfast! He specifically recommended his favorite, the Florentine Crepe. Kaila thought that was very cool but her real reward was his joy in the returned wallet.

After many exchanges of emails, pictures and notes, the families had become friends. They made a date to meet. Keaton’s family came to Oregon over July Fourth where they met for lunch. They seem to have bonded over more than a lost wallet and a good Samaritan named Kaila. The knowledge that good people still exist in this crazy world warmed all of their hearts.

In closing, I’m quoting a note from Keaton’s aunt that speaks from her heart for most of us:

“My heart filled with joy when I got this news. I’m relieved my nephew will be reunited with his belongings. But I’m more relieved to know that in a society full of hostility and self-entitlement there are still people (a teenager no less) who will do the right thing and prioritize kindness above personal gain. She restored some of my ever decreasing faith in humanity and taught my nephew a valuable lesson.”

Contact Betty Kaiser’s Chatterbox by 

email at bchatty@bettykaiser.com

Our Dogs Miss A Social Life!

6/4/2020 Chatterbox

Betty Kaiser

Sammy as a puppy

The Coronavirus pandemic has affected everyone in our house—even the dogs. No, they’re not wearing masks or washing their paws as they go in or out of the back door. But they have a social problem. Our feisty little Dachshunds are great watch dog companions that are always on alert for people and predators. They take their jobs seriously.

They are the welcoming party to the Kaiser household and nothing comes onto the property without being greeted. During wet weather, they stay inside and guard their domain through the French doors. In warm weather they go outside in the sunshine and wait for company to come calling so they can announce their arrival.

But thanks to Covid-19, traffic has slowed down and welcoming barks are strangely quiet. You might say they are not happy campers. So, Sammy has taken up whining as a new hobby.

Last week, he literally nearly drove me crazy—in the house. The weather was nice but he didn’t want to stay outside. Wherever I went. He went. If I was in the laundry room. He was there. If I went upstairs, so did he.  He even came into the bathroom with me. And the whining never stopped. Step after step, room after room, I worked and he whined.

In desperation, I sat down, gave him my undivided attention, petted, murmured sweet words, massaged and hugged him. More whining. I tried coaxing him with his favorite chew treat—a bacon flavored Nyla Bone.  He would have none of it.  Instead, he looked at the door and…whined!

During that time, his little housemate Sweetie ignored us! It was the perfect opportunity for her to sleep in Sammy’s bed and play with his toys. But she was also getting anxious. She wanted to go in and out the back door every few minutes. If only she knew how to turn the doorknob!

This went on all week. I was really annoyed until I figured out the problem.

I already knew that our dogs could sense tension in the air. As a puppy, during any household disagreement (even on the television!) Sammy would go into my office, climb into Sweetie’s bed and go to sleep. He only comes out when the noise calms down!

Then I read that other pets across the country have become unhappy during this pandemic situation. Two reasons:  1. Their daily life routines have been turned upside down. 2. If their human is anxious, they are too.

Huh. What a concept. Anxious? Tense? Me? During Covid-19? Yep. That's me!

For weeks, I would get uptight just thinking about going to the store. First, I would read the latest  socializing restrictions. I’d make my list and check it twice.  Then I’d check the car for hand sanitizer, put on my mask and gloves and go back into the house to check one more thing and leave.

All the while, the dogs would be watching, dogging me and trying to get in the car and go with me. They’re spoiled. When they go with dad, his “people” give them treats. Not me.

Sammy and Sweetie live for company. But for months (per CDC guidelines), human visitors have been few and far between. Thank goodness for neighborly conversations across the fence, USPS and UPS.

Some days, I also feel like whining. A worldwide pandemic that’s killing thousands of people calls for fear, heartache and extreme changes in lifestyle.

Physical distancing, no church, haircuts or dining out and staying home are a small price to pay to save lives. But it took awhile to realize how important seeing our friends and hugging them on a regular basis is important emotionally. Sometimes I feel like I am in prison!

Like us, our dogs have been missing their people, running around the property and having fun. Playing catch or tag with a squeaky toy in the house just doesn’t cut it. They quickly tire of ordinary games and get bored.

So, we have a new routine. Daily, I snap on Sammy’s leash to go out to the mailbox (about a ¼ mile walk) and pick up the mail. Then I unleash him and we walk around our wooded acreage and wave at the neighbors driving by.

Sometimes Sweetie joins us. Then both of them get a chance to investigate new squirrel holes, chase birds, bark at any motorcycles that zoom past their territory and greet Bella (the dog next door).

At home, we get a drink of water, sit down and kibbutz while Sammy gets a massage and Sweetie takes a nap. It’s a new normal but it works for the time-being. No whining allowed. Yea!

Thankfully, hope is on the horizon. Virus numbers are down. Community doors are opening again and yesterday, a car drove down our driveway.

Hallelujah!

Contact Betty Kaiser’s Chatterbox

 email bchatty@bettykaiser.com

SURVIVING "SHELTERING IN PLACE"

Betty needs a haircut!

5/7/2020 Chatterbox
CG Sentinel
Betty Kaiser

That crazy lady photo in today’s column is me—needing a haircut! And today’s column is a rambling description of the new Shelter in Place lifestyle that we’re all living. 

I agree with Tom Hanks who said, “There’s no such thing as a Saturday anymore. Every day is just today.”

In this pandemic era, every day seems like the one before. Time is running them all together. News flashes are constant and contradictory. The government rules to protect us from the coronavirus often change from day to day. The truth is that sometimes, I am overwhelmed knowing what to do and when to do it.

Do I agree with the need for restrictions? 

You bet I do! Anything that keeps people from catching COVID-19 and saves thousands of lives is a good thing. I support the rules wholeheartedly.

But do I like the rules on a minute-by-minute, day-by-day, week-by-week basis? 

Nope. Not at all. Especially when it means staying home 24/7.

At first, staying home and sheltering, didn’t bother me. I could find plenty to do around the house (organize photos, clean closets, sweep the garage) and a weekly search for groceries kept me busy (and uptight) at the stores.

I learned how to wear a mask and gloves while shopping and to stay six feet away from other shoppers and neighbors. I made hand sanitizer and use lots of hand soap while washing my hands and singing “Happy Birthday.” Until now, I never knew how often I touched my face. Now I know not to do that!

But…once the food cupboards were full, new recipes tried, and phone calls made, I tired of cleaning house and I missed driving into town, entertaining my friends, going to church and visiting my favorite Eugene haunts.

Boredom started setting in. And let me tell you, it’s not easy to get bored around my house. There’s always something to do. Six manicured acres of rose bushes, vegetable gardens, trees and meadow grass will keep you busier than a bee. Just trying to keep the weeds from taking over the property is exhausting. It’s also not fun and I need fun!

Between the cold, blustery, rainy days and our advanced ages we limit the time we spend working outside. A couple of hours and it’s back into the house to catch up with emails, phone calls, texts from the kids, laundry, bills, naps, reading or TV. That’s it! Day after day after day.

Fortunately, Chuck and I are used to working together and that’s a good thing! He likes to help—on his terms. And my idea of household chores is way different from his. An example: He’s still surprised that doing the dishes includes cleaning off the stove and counter tops every day! 

So sometimes a little togetherness feels like too much and I’m sure he feels the same way!

Shelter in Place at our house includes us and two Dachshunds. And right now we’re all feeling stressed and a little claustrophobic . The dogs sense our agitation and can’t settle down. They walk around whining for attention or sit at the back door barking to go out and chase a squirrel. They quickly come back inside and start all over again. It’s a merry-go-round.

But last week, I had a revelation. Everyone was in the kitchen. The dogs were sitting on their cushions in front of the French doors, guarding the property. I was gathering ingredients and putting together a spaghetti sauce for dinner and Chuck was making doggie meatballs.

As I looked around, I realized that while the house was eerily quiet, everyone was at peace. We were safe, happy and healthy. “Aha!” I thought, “This new normal is working.” But it was almost too quiet. So I went over and turned on the TV so we could all watch the depressing morning news while doing our part to shelter in place.

So, yes! We can do this!  But…I'm sure looking forward to a haircut!

One final thought: As we mourn all of those who have lost their lives in this pandemic, we do not know what the future holds for us. Our future is limited by the guidelines we’ve been given. Cooperation is a good thing. Our job is  to trust those making decisions. 

They are literally a matter of life or death.

Please join me in praying regularly for those who have COVID-19 and those who care for them: healing, endurance and peace for the patients; wisdom, compassion, energy, rest and protection for first responders and medical personnel.  Also, for the virus to stop spreading and the researchers to create vaccines to prevent it.

And one more thing—let’s all be grateful for our blessings. Looking at some parts of the world we know that it could be worse. 

Can I get an Amen?

Contact Betty Kaiser’s Chatterbox by email bchatty@bettykaiser.com



















4

SURVIVING THE UNEXPECTED (with prayer and toilet paper)

4/2/2020 The Chatterbox
Betty Kaiser

Hello, Grovers! The Chatterbox is back! After 22 years of conversing with my CG Sentinel readers, I had to stop writing for awhile and I missed you. Today’s column is a short update of my unbelievably crazy life these past months.

It all began with a dog attack. One year ago, on March 30, a large dog tried to take off my right arm. I was taken by ambulance to RiverBend, met by a trauma surgeon and informed that my wound could not be closed with simple stitching. I couldn’t see that there was no skin covering the raw flesh because I was wearing two sweatshirts. I quietly heard the surgeon say, “It’s serious and requires an immediate debridement surgery, another surgery and eventually a skin graft.”

In other words, It was a gory mess.

My healthy, happy self was changed in an instant. I was in shock. There are pictures of me just looking bewildered as I jumped through all the necessary hoops to restore my arm function. I truly feared that healing and restoration wasn’t possible.

Family, friends and strangers prayed.

I was in shock for weeks. My condition was described as “fragile.” The first two surgeries I barely knew what was happening. The skin graft was a real eye opener. I always wondered how they transferred skin from one place to another. In layman’s terms, they shaved a large area of skin off my thigh and stitched it over the skinless wound. Both the leg and arm were bandaged and the healing began.

I wore a wound vacuum attached to my arm and around my neck 24 hours a day for weeks. Eventually, it and the stitches were removed from the arm.  I wore a compression sleeve for months to continue the healing. The thigh skin removal was like a severe sunburn as it slowly healed. The ugly, crater-like hole of the arm wound area looks and feels like shoe leather.

Many thanks to modern medicine and an army of medical personnel who did everything they could to restore my arm. Along the way, I learned how to be brave and calm; to follow directions, endure multiple procedures, operate a wound vac machine and trust my husband to change bandages. One of the frustrating parts? It was two months before I could take a shower. Chuck washed my hair in the sink and I took sponge baths. Oy!

So much tissue was lost that I remained under the surgeon’s care until this year. The wound area is still tender and ugly as sin and there is residual nerve damage. Everyday life is hard on the arm and wrist: lifting, typing, stirring, opening jars, digging in the garden are all painful. But thanks to great care and hundreds of prayers, I survived and I am a grateful woman.

Now, you would think that would be enough medical trauma and drama for a little old lady in one year. But there’s more. In August, a routine exam showed that I had a non-malignant tumor of the parotid gland. The tumor was sitting on the facial nerve making it difficult surgery to remove.  More prayers were sent up and thanks to God and a great surgeon, I again survived the unexpected.

Finally, just before Christmas, when life was starting to get normal, more trouble was brewing. My husband has a long history of heart disease dating back to a 5-way bypass in 2003. In Dec. he began having difficulty breathing outside in cold air. No one thought that was a problem. “They” were wrong. He ended up at RiverBend, after a heart attack and stroke that resulted in more surgeries and weeks of Home Health Care. Many tears were shed and prayers were offered. Chuck survived the unexpected.

This year, for one brief month in January, life was looking up. Then came another surprise. A coronavirus pandemic (COVID-19) arrived in America.

Unexpected? You bet.

Now, to everyone out there who is wondering what the world is coming to…I don’t know either. Only God knows. And so we pray. Please know that I’m following the rules and worrying right along with you and we will get though this. 

However, we are just about out of toilet paper. Kleenex, anyone?

Many thanks to all of you for your encouragement and friendship though-out my journalism years. May God bless you with hope, joy and good health as we plow through the year 2020! Keep looking up, praying and believing that we will survive.

Remember: This, too, shall pass!

P.S. After this went to press, a large box of toilet paper arrived in the mail from my sweet, thoughtful daughter who lives in Calif. Thank you, Kathryn!

 

Contact Betty Kaiser’s Chatterbox by email bchatty@bettykaiser.com