I nominate Dorado and May sled dogs of the year!

3/27/13 Chatterbox

Betty Kaiser

Mitch Seavey 2013 Iditarod  winner and dogs (Internet Photo)

My previous column on the history of the “Last Great Race On Earth” began Mar. 3 in Willow, Alaska. Dogs happily barked, nervous drivers checked their rigs and on-lookers cheered as sixty-six teams of sled dogs and mushers began the 1,000 mile harrowing race across the frozen landscape to Nome. Nine days later, Mitch Seavey, 53, claimed his place as a two-time (and oldest) winner in the 41-year history of the event. Last year, his 25-year old son Dallas won.

I followed the race via the Internet with fear and trepidation. I am not a fan of events where people or animals die. And for years, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA), has released statistics about the dog death rate of this particular race. According to their records, at least 136 dogs have died under horrible conditions.

Last year, a column in the Alaska Dispatch newspaper, accused PETA of spreading misinformation and falsehoods about dog mushing and how poorly dogs were treated for the purpose of fooling the media. In the same column, the author validated PETA’s concerns with this statement:

 “Every time you lodge a protest, mushing figures out a way to remove the causes of your concerns. Mushing is much less cruel today: fewer dogs die or are injured; veterinarians outnumber mushers; dog booties are everywhere; and even the oldest among us can’t recall the last time they saw a musher carry a bullwhip or axe handle because everyone’s found a way to discipline teams without looking mean.”

Well. That’s interesting. I don’t know about you but I think putting on dog booties and not wielding axe handles is a good thing. In fact, it seems to me that whether they know it or not, both sides are cooperating in the best interests of the dogs—a win, win situation.

Unfortunately, once again, according to an AP story, the strange and possibly preventable death of another dog is raising hackles among handlers and PETA. From the outside looking in, it appears that this death could have been prevented.

Five year old, sled dog Dorado, died after being removed from the race on Mar. 11 because he was moving stiffly. He and other dogs were left in a lot set up to care for dogs left behind because of illness or injury. Most of those 135 dogs spent the night inside two airport buildings. Dorado and others slept behind a building that handlers believed would protect them from the elements. Instead, Dorado was buried by drifting snow during a severe windstorm and died by asphyxiation. Others survived.

Dorado’s death was the first incident of its kind and has sparked changes in the way dogs dropped from the race will be handled. Those include construction of shelters at two major checkpoints. Race officials have declined to assign blame to anyone including the volunteer veterinarian who checked the dogs at 3 a.m.

Dorado’s team went on to finish 34^th in the race under Iditarod rookie, Paige Drobny of Fairbanks. Her husband, also a musher, said, “We thought our dog was being cared for. That’s the race organization’s responsibility. We, as mushers, trusted them.” Charges are pending.

In contrast, according to the Anchorage Daily News, another dog lived to race another day. On March 7, Newton Marshall, a Jamaican musher, stopped to help a fellow musher repair her sled. Somehow, May, an experienced, 9-year old race veteran, got loose and headed for freedom! (Newton ultimately withdrew from the race.)

May was on loan from another Iditarod Musher Jim Lanier. His wife posted the situation on Facebook and flew to Alaska to help in the cold search. May was spotted near checkpoints but eluded capture and it was feared that coyotes or wolves would attack her.

But May was on a mission. She wasn’t running to Nome, she was running back to the starting line, just miles from her home; scavenging food leftovers from other teams as she bypassed checkpoints.  There were lots of sighting reports of her but she wasn’t going north. She was heading south.

Her story was on television but the guys who found her were just as surprised as she was grateful. They were on machines. She was on foot and had been on the run, alone, in the Alaskan wilderness seven days. She had traveled 300-400 miles, subsisting on scraps; was skinny, limping with a bloody paw.

“We had just pulled over…and about 100 yards away a dog was trotting down the trail. It was coming at a pretty slow pace and we were waiting to see if someone on a four-wheeler or snow machine was with her,” said Matt Clark.

“I stopped my sled and got off and went to the ground and she came right up to me. She sat in my lap the entire trip back to Big Lake,” Kaitlin Koch said. “I’m still in utter amazement at how far she got.”

“It’s not so far-fetched for May. She’s a sled dog. She has completed the Iditarod numerous times,” according to Smith. “Everybody who has a dog has a tendency to think these sled dogs are Poodles or something and they’re not,” he said. “These are absolutely incredible athletes and they have the internal drive of an athlete.”

Like many traditions, the Iditarod will go on. It is a living part of Alaska history. It combines historical memories of the Great 1925 Race of Mercy with Alaskan’s love of mushing over machinery.

So here’s to Dorado and May, sled dogs of the year. One paid the ultimate price for running this race and the other lived. Neither won the race but both demonstrated before the world the qualities that endear all canines to humanity:
Endurance•Fidelity•Intelligence.

Betty Kaiser’s Chatterbox is about people, places, family, and other matters of the heart.

Celebrating the Great 1925 Race of Mercy

 

3/13/13 Chatterbox

Betty Kaiser

Photo from the Internet

The so-called “Last Great Race On Earth” is held in Alaska every year in the month of March. This famous week long, Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race has always been somewhat of a mystery to me. Sixty six musher teams each led by 13-16 sled dogs, run a grueling 1,000 mile trek from the town of Willow through the punishing frozen wilderness to the gold rush town of Nome on the western coast.

It gives me chills just thinking about it. But when asked why they do it, one race organizer responded, “We do it because it’s important; because we love the dogs, the race, Alaska and this sport. We do it because there is history and this is the Last Great Race on Earth.”

Yes, there are prizes: bragging rights, first place is a 2013 Dodge Ram truck and a $50,400 cash prize; plus other prizes including $3,000 in gold nuggets. However, most of the mushers say that whatever prize money they win is barely enough to feed their stable of dogs (some have over 100), let alone pay their other bills. BTW: the last musher to finish extinguishes (and wins!) a red finish lantern.

Why do they really do it? They do it because they love it.

The most common sled dog breeds are Alaskan Malamutes and Siberian Huskies. The dogs appear well cared for. Photos show them being fitted with booties for the day’s run, fed, resting on piles of hay, checked by veterinarians and loved on by support teams. Still, the weather, ice and sheer stamina needed to run the equivalent distance from Cottage Grove to Los Angeles in horrific weather, takes its toll. Over the course of 40 years, several dozen dogs have died.

The Iditarod Race was originally conceived in 1973, as a way to celebrate Alaska’s centennial as an American territory, it eventually came to include a lifesaving mission by mushers and their sled dogs in 1925. In fact, there was even a movie made about it that I didn’t see. So if you didn’t see it either, here’s the story…

It was Jan. 25,1925, when Dr. Curtis Welch discovered an outbreak of diphtheria in a village outside Nome that could kill the region’s population of 10,000 people. Soon this upper respiratory disease killed three boys. Welch didn’t have enough antitoxin to save the rest of the villagers from this highly contagious disease. Anchorage had a supply but it was nearly 1200 miles away and un-accessible in winter.

Nome’s ports were blocked by ice for the winter. Transportation options were few. The engine of the primitive aircraft that was available was frozen and wouldn’t start. The nearest railroad was 674 miles away and would take 30 days to reach by dog team. The only way in was overland, via the Iditarod/Seward-to-Nome Mail Trail that ran from Seward to Nome, along the Bering Sea.

Dr. Welch pleaded for help via telegrams and ordered quarantine.

Alaska’s Territorial Governor ordered the serum put on a special train and picked up in Nenana. A relay of the 20 top mail carrier mushers (sled dog drivers) would take it from there. The dogs delivered mail in 15-20 days. But could they get the serum to Nome in time?

Here, the facts get a little fuzzy. When the train pulled into Nenana at 11 p.m. on Jan. 27, the temperature was 40°-below. A man of (formerly) dubious character named Wild Bill, loaded the serum and headed down to the frozen Tanana River, where the temp would dip to minus-62. He covered 52 miles by 5:30 a.m. The physical cost was high. When they stopped, Bill’s face had frostbite; blood was dripping from the mouth of his dogs; two others would die from frozen lungs and more dogs would die before the race was over.

Wild Bill handed off the serum and the race to Nome was on! Miraculously, one-by-one, in relay fashion, through whiteouts, blizzards, and impossible conditions, connections were made. On the final leg, the musher had snow blindness and was unable to see. Balto, his magnificent Siberian Husky, unerringly led the team to Nome and became a legendary hero. The Great Race of Mercy was completed in 5 days, 7 hours.

The serum was delivered to Dr. Welch at 5:30 a.m. on Feb. 2. It arrived with only 12 hours to spare. He thawed the frozen serum, administered it to a patient and it worked! Each musher was paid $18.66 plus a $25 trail bonus from the Alaska Territorial government. Four of them would die within two years on the trail.

By the time you read this, we will all know the winner of the 2013 race. His or her incredible skill, courage and stamina will be celebrated. I, however, will be congratulating those amazing dogs. I think of how blindly obedient they are and how confused they must be as they run across the treacherous Alaska wilderness. After all, they don’t know about the Great Mission of Mercy of their predecessors.

Balto is honored with a statue in New York’s Central Park. A male Siberian Husky, he was born in 1919 in Nome, Alaska, (that’s why he knew his way home!). He died in Cleveland, Ohio, after being rescued from a humiliating life on the vaudeville circuit by George Kimble, a Chicago businessman. The statue’s plaque says:

“Dedicated to the indomitable spirit of the sled dogs that relayed antitoxin six hundred miles over rough ice, across treacherous waters, through Arctic blizzards from Nenana to the relief of stricken Nome in the winter of 1925.

Endurance•Fidelity•Intelligence

As a dog lover, I can only say, “Amen!”

Betty Kaiser’s Chatterbox is about people, places, family, and other matters of the heart.

Good news: People are still helping people

 

2/27/13 Chatterbox

Betty Kaiser

It’s time for a good news column to chase away the gloom and doom of dreary winter days, How about some news in which humanity brightly shines? We’ll start out with a headline that looks like anything but good news.

“Widow, 91, Sells Everything to Bury Husband.” The morning of Feb. 16, this ABC News headline jumped right off my Yahoo homepage and stabbed me in the heart. A photo of a sweet lady, nearly penniless, mourning her husband’s recent death, accompanied this story from KOMO News Seattle:

“A 91-year-old Arlington, Wash., widow is selling all of her belongings so she can afford to bury her late husband. Elsie Smith told ABCNews.com she is hoping that by selling all of her possessions through an estate sale, she can bury her husband in the same cemetery as their family members in Snohomish, Wash.

“Smith had been married to her late husband, Joe Smith, for "46 and a half years," she said. Joe Smith passed away at the age of 88 on Feb. 5. For the past two years, he had been suffering from Alzheimer's disease.

"I loved that man more than anything in this whole wide world," she told KOMO. Smith has a total of $9 to her name and she thinks it will cost about $3,000 for the funeral." "I would like to get some help in any way that I possibly can," she said. Everything is up for grabs in Smith's apartment when the sale takes place, except "her makeup and her clothes and her husband's clothing.”

The story was followed by 1,110 online comments. All of them positive and sympathetic. People wrote of the toll Alzheimer’s takes not only physically and emotionally but financially. Some were amazed at how long she and her husband were married. Others wondered why our nation doesn’t take better care of our elderly.

Many were looking for a link to help her financially. James said, “This is one cause I would donate to.” Robert agreed. He said, “If 3,000 people could give her a dollar we could all help. Come on, people!”

Well, it turns out that there was a link and it was on the newspaper’s website. “Anonymous” gave instructions: Google ABC Seattle page, click on Problem Solvers, click donate and put her name on top of the page. Well, it was a beginning. But by the time I got there contributions weren’t needed. Elsie’s husband’s funeral was paid for and she had a little extra money to boot.

The good news was heralded in another news story on Feb. 18: “Generous KOMO viewers step up to help Arlington widow. ‘It's completely unbelievable. We get donations from our viewers all the time, but I have never seen anything like this in the entire time I've been here,’ said News Director Holly Gauntt.

Donations and well wishes were pouring in even as Elsie was having her estate sale, even as people who had seen her story were looking at her things, wanting to help in some way.

Elsie's story was picked up and shared on websites all over the world, and KOMO got calls from all over the country. People offered cemetery plots, a minister offered to preside over Joe's funeral, and there were donations big and small.

One man and his wife donated $3,000. "My wife and I are doing well, and there just comes a time in life when you have to do something for someone else. It was just that compelling," he said.

The following Monday, KOMO was able to present Elsie with a check for $12,000.  "I don't know what to say. I'm just dumbfounded," Elsie said. "I'm just overjoyed," she said.

Elsie and a friend visited with an attorney on Monday to figure out how best to handle the money and the upcoming funeral. She recently moved full-time into the Regency Care Center in Arlington, and thanks to the generosity of KOMO viewers, she will now be taken care of.”

Now if that doesn’t warm your heart, I don’t know what will. But maybe you’re thinking, ‘I’d like to help, but I don’t have much to give.’ Let me tell you about the Shoe Shine man at the Children’s Hospital in Pittsburg, PA. The hospital is his charity of choice and he has donated over $200,000 to their patients—shining shoes!

Albert Lexie began shining shoes in 1957 and has been shining shoes at the hospital for 32 years. A shoeshine costs five dollars but his customers are big tippers. “Most of them give $6, some of them give $7,” he told WTAE-TV News anchor Wendy Bell. At Christmas a doctor gave him a $50 bill. That’s some tip!

The money goes to parents of sick children who can’t afford to pay medical costs. Dr. Joseph Carcillo says, “He’s donated over a third of his lifetime salary to the Children’s Hospital Free Care Fund. He’s a philanthropist, is what he is. He’s an entrepreneur.”

So I did the math. A lifetime total of $200,000 divided by 32 years of donations equals $6,250 per year. Assuming that Mr. Lexie takes Sundays off and maybe a two-week vacation, that means he works about 288 days a year. That is an average of $21.70 per day that he is able to give to the hospital. Amazing!

Most of us can’t save that much money but I know from experience that it is possible to save something every day just by dumping change in my piggy bank.  My conclusion is that if we can’t help everyone…we can help someone. If we like, we can chose to be mini-philanthropists and bring a ray of sunshine into someone’s life—even in February.

Betty Kaiser’s Chatterbox is about people, places, family, and other matters of the heart.

The movie "LINCOLN"

2/13/13 Chatterbox

Betty Kaiser

Thanks to  Steven Spielberg’s blockbuster movie “Lincoln,”, there has been a huge resurgence of interest in Abraham Lincoln, the 16th president of the United States. Lincoln was born 204 years ago on Feb. 12. Although that was a long time ago, the story of his life and service to our country as played out on the screen, are still fresh and relevant.

As the lights go down, the movie draws you into the life of our country’s most beloved president. Each scene feels so historically accurate that you seem to be an eye-witness to history. In fact, the movie is based on the 994 page book “Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln” by Doris Kearns Goodwin. The 2-1/2 hour long movie moves at a fast clip so there’s no time to doze off between scenes.

The film is perfectly cast. Daniel Day Lewis, an English actor, was cast as Lincoln. And the moment he appears on the screen there is no doubt—he is Lincoln. He is tall, well-spoken and haunted by the horrible war he has drawn the country into—driven by the need to abolish slavery. And he is not above playing the political game to get the job done. Even if that includes stretching the truth about the whereabouts of the Southern peacekeepers or buying votes with political favors to get the Thirteenth Amendment passed.

Sally Fields does a magnificent job as Mary Lincoln. She takes Mrs. Lincoln’s reputation as a raging maniac into the realms of reality. She is real—not a caricature. She mourns the deaths of her sons, answers the critics of her spending habits and confronts her husband with his aloofness in such a manner that the source of her so-called craziness is understandable.

Tommy Lee Jones is riveting as the nasty, radical Republican Congressman Thaddeus Stevens. An ardent abolitionist, he was feared and hated by opponents on both sides of the aisle as he fought for abolition. He and Lincoln were on the same side but had diametrically different ways getting to their goal.

In the movie, Day-Lewis’ Lincoln is exactly as I pictured him. He is thoroughly human, intelligent and compassionate but calm almost to a fault. He reminds me of other self-educated country boys that I have known. His plain exterior hides a brilliant lawyer’s mind; he has a sense of humor; he appreciates poetry and has a self-sacrificing heart.

The movie covers the final four months of Lincoln’s life. It begins shortly after his second inauguration in 1865 and ends with his assassination in the Ford Theatre. He was 56 years old and the first of four American Presidents to be assassinated.

A look at his life before the presidency (not shown in the movie) gives a glimpse into the person that he became but certainly no hint of future greatness.

He spent his early years in rural Kentucky. Growing up on the frontier, he spent less than 12 months in attending regular classes in school.  He was poorly educated but well read and ambitious. He studied and passed his law exams after running for the state legislature. He is the only president to have a patent. Issued in 1849, the patent was for a devise to free ships that had run aground in shallow water.

There were lots of interesting firsts in his life. He was the first president to be born beyond the original 13 states. He was the first president born in Kentucky. His first dollar was earned ferrying passengers to a steamer on the Ohio River in 1827. He was the first president to sport a full beard. He and Lyndon Johnson tied as tallest presidents—6 ft 4 in. but he was first! 

He had many nicknames. “Honest Abe” is everyone’s favorite but no one knows its origins. I say that it just described the character of the man. Others say that it had to do with his honesty in judging horse races. Still others say that he would charge little or no legal fees when he knew his clients were poor. “The Great Emancipator” refers to his issuing the Emancipation Proclamation and strong support of ending slavery. “Father Abraham” refers to his leadership during the Civil War.

Lincoln and his parents never owned slaves. In fact, his parents joined a Baptist congregation that had separated from another church in opposition to slavery. Other family members owned a few slaves. Mary Todd Lincoln’s father owned several slaves but she was very opposed to the idea. His views against slavery were formed while working on the Mississippi River.

There’s one more thing we know about Lincoln. He and his father were estranged but he loved his mother. It is reported that he said of her, “God bless my mother; all that I am or ever hope to be I owe to her.”

The Civil War (1861-1865) took its toll on the entire country. With the population still divided, President Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863. The battle to pass the Thirteenth Amendment to the constitution banning slavery was fierce and close. The Senate vote passed easily but the House vote was only accomplished with arm-twisting and promises. Finally, it narrowly reached the 2/3 majority and passed the bill by a vote of 119 to 56. On Feb. 1, 1865, the document was signed.

“Lincoln.” It’s a great movie. It will inspire you to appreciate this country and all those who have served to make it great. Go see it.

 Betty Kaiser’s Chatterbox is about people, places, family, and other matters of the heart.

School Killings: Doing nothing is no longer an option

1/23/13  Chatterbox

Betty Kaiser

 “On Jan. 11, in Columbia, S.C., a boy armed with a gun killed one of his schoolmates and severely wounded several others. Presumably firing upon them in retaliation for bullying, he expressed no regret for his deed. It’s a disturbing story…the kind of story that makes us long for simpler times. The year was 1890”*

Since that time, history has continued to repeat itself. CNN reports there have been over 100 school shooting related deaths in the last 20 years. The deadliest was 35 in the 2007 Virginia Tech shooting.

Just six weeks ago, a young man, bearing a mini-arsenal of weapons, added to that number in Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newton, Conn. He went from room to room and deliberately killed 20 children and six adults; wounding many others. The actions of one deranged, irresponsible, self-centered individual plunged our nation into deep mourning—again.

The barrage of bullets snuffed out young lives and riddled tiny little bodies with multiple holes. The thought of such needless devastation ripped holes in my heart. I can only imagine what it did to the hearts and minds and souls of the surviving families and community.

One family lost an adorable little girl in the violent slaughter. Later, at a press conference, as parents held photos of their dead children, her mother simply said, “I am Anna’s mom. On Fri. Dec. 14, I put two children on the bus and only one came home. I pray that no mother, father, grandparent or caregiver ever has to go through this grief.”

At that same conference, Dylan’s mother stood with tears running down her cheeks, holding a photo of her son, as her husband, the boy’s father, spoke these very simple and eloquent words: “Ask yourself what is it worth doing to keep your children safe? What is it worth to you? What is it worth doing?” The answer was silence.

Personally, I don’t understand why the safety of children on every level of life isn’t everyone’s priority. Sane or insane the instinct of man and beast is usually to protect the young. Who changed the rules?

Safety is a problem we didn’t have to grapple with when I was in school. Our parents dropped us off at school, watched us walk in the front door and picked us up in the afternoon. We were safe. We were in school. Although there are reports of school shootings as far back as the 1700s, school children were not generally the target of out-of-control, enraged gunmen.

A half century ago, my school had three safety drills. “Drop, Cover and Hold” was the most memorable. We lived in earthquake country and the ground often rolled. The principal would give the command over the intercom and we would drop down under our desks and stay there until given the “all clear.” Fire drills were universal across the nation and always a welcome relief to march outside in the sunshine and wait until danger had passed.

The atomic bomb drills were a little trickier for the teacher to keep us under control. All of the classes lined the school’s interior hallways, away from the possibility of breaking glass and deadly fumes. The effort, of course, would have been futile in a real attack but the threat could not be ignored. We had to be trained to respond.

At home, our parents would constantly remind us not to talk to strangers on the street. All parents of that generation remembered the famous Lindbergh toddler kidnapping in 1932. The boy was eventually found dead of a massive skull fracture. His killer was found, tried and executed but our parents never let us forget what could happen if we weren’t careful.

Still, those were the sweetest days of my life. Looking back, my life was like the scene in the Lion King when they sing, “Hakuna Matata! It means "no worries for the rest of your days.”

Things didn’t change much when my own three children went to school. Life was pretty uneventful. They all took the school bus to their respective schools where the biggest danger was from their rowdy fellow students! Weekends it was not unusual for the boys to ride their bikes (without adult supervision) three miles into town. Kathy and her best friend would dress up, go to the bus stop and ride into the shopping mall (alone) to eat lunch at Woolworth’s.

My grandsons do not have those privileges. Times have changed.  Today, children no longer ride bikes or buses to town alone. It’s a dangerous world out there. We live in a charged atmosphere of anger. Everyone is concerned about safety but the senseless violence continues.

My oldest son is a teacher and doctoral student at UCSD where they receive text messages warning of trouble. He said, “We function more like a city than a small school and we have our own police department. There are giant blue buzzers attached to light poles that can be pushed in case of trouble. An emergency signal is sent into the police and the problem is addressed.” 

Most schools have rules for lockdowns in dangerous conditions. Sandy Hook Elementary School had a new security system that required visitors to be identified and buzzed in. But the gunman allegedly used an “assault weapon” to shoot his way into the building and destroy the innocent. 

I read this report and shuddered. What causes an individual to do this? Is it anger, mental illness, bullying, a desire for power, available weapons, violent movies or games? I don’t know. It's despicable and terrifying.

But this I do know: If it takes a village to raise a child, it will now take a nation to save them. Doing nothing is no longer an option. Open minded, compassionate dialog has to prevail. Only then will wise decisions and progress be made.

Simply put, we must stop the killing and start the healing.

*The Christian Science Monitor, Jan. 16, 2013

Betty Kaiser’s Chatterbox is about people, places, family, and other matters of the heart. 

When is your birthday?

1/9/2013  Chatterbox

Betty Kaiser

Thirty days has September,

April, June and November,

All the rest have thirty-one,

Except for February alone,

Which has twenty-eight rain or shine,

But on leap year, twenty-nine.

No matter the number of days in the months, every New Year of our lives begins with the month of January. So if this is your birthday month, congratulations! You and I, along with millions of other talented and organized Capricorns, will be the first ones this year to celebrate becoming another year older and hopefully wiser.

As a youngster, I remember that birthdays made me feel really special. It was all about being older and celebrating the responsibilities that came with age—from crossing the street by myself to babysitting the neighbor’s kids to taking the streetcar to school—getting older was a good thing.

As the birthday girl, my mother brought cupcakes and punch to school and the whole class sang me the birthday song. After school, my favorite friends came home with me to play games and gleefully watch me open presents. Then, I made a wish, blew out the candles and we all enjoyed cake and ice cream. They went home with party favors and I went to bed a happy girl.

January is a tricky month to have a birthday. Coming on the heels of Christmas and the cusp of a new year it catches folks off guard. I can’t tell you the number of times that family members say my card or gift will be late because they forgot to turn the page of their calendar to January. Of course, I really don’t care if the cards are late. As long as they trickle in, I’m happy. At my age, the important thing is to be remembered. I’m already old enough!

So, tell me, what month were you born in? Every month has something interesting or unique about it—starting with you! As you know, we use the Roman calendar. Originally, it had only 10 months beginning with March. January and February, coming in the dead of winter, were unnamed until Julius Caesar reformed the calendar. He named the unnamed, changed the number of days in some and renamed others. This is what we ended up with:

January is Janus’ festival month: the Roman god of gates and doorways is the door to the New Year. It has two faces looking in opposite directions and the ability to see all things past and future. We now have 31 days to begin the year.

February is the month of Februa, the Roman festival of purification on Feb. 14. In Old English it means, “Mud Month.” Thanks to Julius it has 28 days for three years and every fourth year 29 days.

March stands for Mars, the Roman god of war. It was the original first month of the year and time for resumption of war after winter. It has 31 days.

April is Aphrodite’s month. She is the Greek goddess of love and beauty identified with Venus. It is the growing month when trees and flowers begin to open.  It is 30 days long.

May is for Maia the daughter of Faunus and wife of Vulcan. She is identified with the Italic goddess of spring and fertility. It has 31 days.

June is Juno’s month. She is the principle goddess of the Roman Pantheon; goddess of marriage and the well being of women; wife and sister of Jupiter; mother of Mars and Vulcan. It is considered good luck to get married in June’s 30 days.

July is Julius Caesar’s month. He reformed the Roman calendar and renamed this month after himself in 46 BC. It is considered the warmest month in the Northern hemisphere and has 31 days.

August is Augustus Caesar ‘s month. He clarified and completed the calendar reform of Julius Caesar and renamed this month after himself. It has 31 days.

September kept its original name and means seventh month although it is the ninth month. Under Julius it became 30 days.

October kept its original name and means eighth month although it is the tenth month. To Anglo Saxons it meant winter full moon. It has always had 31 days.

November kept its original name and means ninth month although it is the eleventh. In Old English it is the Blood Month. Originally 29 days it became 30 days.

December kept its original name and the tenth month but it is the twelfth and last month of the year. It had 30 days; 29 and finally ended up with 31.

Now we come to the good part. There are special flowers and jewelry that are associated with certain months. So if you want to give someone an especially meaningful bouquet of flowers or striking piece of jewelry keep reading.

Flowers:

January: Carnation, Snowdrop

February: Violet, Primrose

March: Daffodil, Jonquil

April: Daisy, Sweet Pea

May: Lily of the Valley, Hawthorn

June: Rose, Honeysuckle

July: Larkspur, Water Lily

August: Gladiolas, Poppy

September: Aster, Morning Glory

October: Calendula, Cosmos

November: Chrysanthemum

December Narcissus

Birthstone:

January: Garnet (Constancy)

February: Amethyst (Sincerity)

March: Aquamarine, Bloodstone (Courage)

April: Diamond, White Sapphire (Innocence

May: Emerald: (Love, Success)

June: Pearl, Moonstone, Alexandrite (Health and Longevity)

July: Ruby (Contentment)

August: Peridot, Sardonyx (Married Happiness)

September: Sapphire (Clear Thinking)

October: Opal, Tourmaline, Pink Sapphire (Hope)

November: Topaz, Citrine (Fidelity)

December: Turquoise, Zircon (Prosperity)

Now that we’ve covered all the months of the year, I wish you all the happiest of birthdays whenever it may be. May all your wishes come true and you have many happy returns of the day.

 Happy Birthday 2013!

Betty Kaiser’s Chatterbox is about people, places, family, and other matters of the heart.

Is there hope for our world?

12/26/12 Chatterbox

Betty Kaiser

As the days of 2012 wind down, I think we can all agree on one thing—it has been a difficult, heartbreaking year for individuals and communities all across these United States. The despicable, wanton murder of innocent children and adults by crazed individuals; the widespread destruction of property and lives by Mother Nature; and the hard financial times suffered by so many of our families, cause us to wonder if there is hope for our world.

For many years it has been my tradition to tell an old-fashioned, feel-good holiday story in this space in the last column of the year. And if ever we needed a reason to feel good, the time is now. Today I’m going to take you back to another time of heartache and suffering. Fear in the form of The Great Depression stalked the land of these United States and the only joy that could be found was in family ties.

This story is attributed to farmer Webster Howe’s recollection of his favorite Thanksgiving but it could have been told by my father who was also living in the hills of Missouri trying to help his father eke out a living for their family of five after the death of his mother. Eventually they all emigrated to Calif. Mr. Howe tells a similar tale with a different ending.

“It was 1934 or ’35. Our kids had all left home lookin’ for work in California and in Kansas, takin’ all the little ones with them. Probably to starve, as Mother put it. There was no one left on the farm but me, Mother and John, our youngest son.

In those days there was want all across this country. Where we was you couldn’t hardly make a thin dime. We milked our string of cows and couldn’t sell the milk; fed it to the pigs and couldn’t sell the pigs but we was blessed with food and work.

That year we put up more dried and canned stuff and put down and smoked more meat than we ever done before or since. You’d of thought we was squirrels, putting’ away nuts for a hard winter.

Anyway, it got to be the week before Thanksgivin’ and we didn’t hear nothin’ from any of the kids livin’ in Kansas or Calif. Mother had writ them long letters and wondered if any of them was comin’ home for the holiday.

When she didn’t hear, she jest went out one mornin’ and killed two big tom turkeys and dressed them. Then she set about making apple, mince and pumpkin pies. By evenin’ the bread and baked stuff began to pile up till I asked who she was cookin’ all that for, me and John? She never even answered me.

I tell you, it got to me. Mother was workin’ hard and lookin’ tired. I was getting’ bitter at the kids who hadn’t even answered their mother’s letter.

Well, it didn’t get no better and by the time we was doing chores the night before Thanksgivin’ me and John was feeling low too. I still had two cows to go, when I heard a car drive up. John left the feedin’ and went out to look. He come runnin’ back and told me to come quick, he’s finish up later.

When I stepped out of the barn, there was my son Ken’s old touring car loaded with women and kids and Jack, my son-in-law, jumpin’ out of it. I jest turned around and went back into the barn. John came to get me and said they’d jest come down after me if I didn’t come on up to the house.

At the house there was a lot of laughin’ and talkin’ and everyone was huggin’ Mother and John and me. When we went inside, John, poured coffee for the grownups and icy cold milk for all the children. Mother and the girls went to the pantry for something to eat and we could hear them teasin’ and laughin’ about all the stuff she’d made. 

Then with both hands full of cookies, the littlest grandchild come out to lean against my chair. She was a purty little redheaded kid. She told me that up in Kansas they didn’t have no cookies like Grandma made. I looked down at her and seen right away that she was as scrawny as a lamb whose mother didn’t have enough milk to feed it. About then, Mother and Daughter walked out of the pantry.

Daughter has always been the bravest of all my children but when she looked straight at me, I saw fear in her eyes. Never sheddin’ a tear, not a waver in her strong voice, she told us how they’d been broke most of the time and how they’d sold everything to get the money to come home. Without asking for an ounce of pity, she made me a deal to work out their keep till things picked up as though I wouldn’t a taken them in for nothing’.

My boy Ken, he never said nothin’, neither did his wife, they jest let Daughter talk. Jack, our son-in-law, never said a word, jest sat there with his kind of down and his elbows on his knees. Mother seen he was feelin’ shamed for not bein’ able to take care of his own, so she told him how much we was needin’ help and how his comin’ was a real godsend.

The next day was Thanksgivin’ Day. The boys helped me with chores, then we sat awhile in the barn and talked about how we was goin’ to make it. And how bad it was in Kansas and on up north. The women spent the whole mornin’ puttin’ dinner together. Then about two o’clock we ate.

Sitting’ there at the crowded table, covered with plates and food, the family all spruced up and smilin’, Mother lookin’ like the Spirit of God had descended on her purty face, put me to mind of my own pa and ma and my own brothers, and I remembered the old, old prayer my father said at our table:

We thank Thee, then O Father,

For all things bright and good

The seed-time and the harvest,

Our life, our health, our food.

Accept the gifts we offer

For all Thy love imparts,

And what Thou most desirest,

Our humble thankful hearts.”

The prayer of this (then) 96-year-old man certainly gives me pause to reflect. Along with the deep, deep sorrows of 2012 we have also received blessings. It reminds me that now—the day after Christmas and all the days to come—is the time to practice the spirit of Christmas. In this New Year may we resolve to share the gifts of love, joy, peace and hope every day, in every way, with everyone.

Yes, there is hope for this world and it begins with us.

Betty Kaiser’s Chatterbox is about people, places, family, and other matters of the heart. Contact her at 942-1317 or via e-mail — bchatty@bettykaiser.com