2018…..twenty-eighteen….two thousand eighteen…..

In the words of the popular old Frank Sinatra song, “It was a very good year.” Well… I am not prepared to accept that description without a lot of qualifications. 2018…. It was a very unique year? A very different year? It was a year of upheaval. It was a year of important landmarks. No matter how I describe it: You can be sure of one thing, at least. It was a year that brought about some changes in my life that were momentous and irreversible. Some of them will have an effect on my life…..Well, forever.

Every year brings new and different things: New challenges, new problems, new rewards, new surprises, new adventures, new sources of happiness… And, no doubt, every years brings its share of loss and sadness.

Back in 2017, I remarked that it was probably the worst year of my life…..mostly because of a series of physical and health problems that seemed to be attacking me relentlessly. Yes, that was indeed a very bad year. But, in part, they were mitigated by the fact that Sultan spent the summer at my house. He was not only a huge help….but he was also the   source of comfort and strength. With his help, during the summer, I was able to manage the problems. And with the guidance and expertise of the doctors in the Cotton-O’Neil Medical Group, I was eventually overcome the problems and went on to enjoy a degree of good health for the remainder of the year.

Last year, 2018, however, was different. Three major events took place that cannot be reversed. Sultan can do nothing about them. My doctors have no power to change them. They happened…..and they will continue to influence my life into the unforeseen future.

But…. Do not be discouraged, I am going to try to balance these far-reaching, pivotal events with an even greater number of happier more positive things that took place. Even though they probably do not balance…or cancel….the more consequential events, they do demonstrate that life goes on. That life is sort of like a balance scale. If we let life take its course, the two sides will work to equalize themselves….maybe not quite….but close enough. And, from the good things, we derive enough strength and positive drive to move on down the road of life.

The saddest event occurred in the early morning hours of September 24. The telephone rang early…..around 7:00. At my house, when the telephone rings that early, it can mean only one thing: We can be sure that is not good news. I didn’t make to the telephone in time to answer it. The call came on my cell phone, and not my land line, one of which is beside my bed. By the time I had gotten out of bed and into my office to the cell phone, it had stopped ringing. I took a look at the Caller ID. The call was from my niece. She had also called previously, but apparently I was asleep and did not hear the phone ringing. I knew then what she was going to tell me.

I called her. And, she tearfully told me what her dad had died in the night. Her dad, of course, was my brother. My younger brother, Arnold, had died around 1:00 that morning of congestive heart failure.

Arnold was the youngest of us three brothers. Marvin is the oldest. He is 87 years old. I am the middle bother. I turned 80 in July. Arnold, the youngest of us three, celebrated his 78^th birthday on September 4. For a long period of time, I firmly believed that he would most certainly outlast us all. He had been active….always doing something, helping somebody, working on some project. Then about three or four years ago, he started being besieged with physical problems…..ending up in the hospital two or three times. But, each time, he would bounce back. He would soon be back to normal….tending his garden, cutting wood, helping out friends who needed help….

The final incident was brought about by a fall…. He was getting into his pickup when he slipped and fell. It wasn’t, it seems, just a routine fall. Although he managed to pick himself up, it turned out that he had injured his leg….and his arm….and his side.

He was admitted to the hospital….and eventually transferred to a convalescent home in Sterling, The Sterling Presbyterian Manor. This, I think was the final mistake. I drove out to see him three or four time during is stay there. “Are they getting you up to walk?” I would ask every time. The answer was usually “No”.

Of course, I only spent a day or two while I was there, but even from those brief periods of observation, it was apparent that he was not receiving the medical care and medical attention that he needed. In fact, it appeared that he was receiving very little medical care at all. His daughter talked to the staff. His son made a trip from Chicago to see him. Even when he talked to the staff, the answers were vague and noncommittal. I had even suggested that maybe we should seek legal advice in regards to the level and quality of treatment that he was receiving.

At some point we discovered that he was not there to receive medical treatment….but as a hospice patient. This fact was concealed….or at least, never revealed….until it was probably too late for any constructive steps to be taken. What we should have been told upfront and immediately was concealed. No wonder nobody paid much attention to him. To the staff of the Sterling Presbyterian Manor, he was not there to be “healed”; he was there simply to die.

Even today, I don’t think any of us are sure how this happened….or who signed the papers….who authorized it….. But, for sure, the transparency and forthrightness and cooperation from the Sterling Presbyterian Manor was sadly absent.

We still had great hopes of is recovery. We were on the verge of buying him a suitable walker…..of obtaining a portable oxygen extractor….. Of insisting that they begin a program of physical therapy…. I honestly thought he would go back home….and that he would be around for the next twenty years.

Something went terribly wrong in the meantime, however. He died of congestive heart failure in the early morning hours of Monday, September 24.

There are happier days to remember. Arnold was my Number One playmate all during our childhood years. We spent countless hours roaming the fields, and woods and streams near our house. We were together climbing trees, climbing on the rooftops of the many out buildings on our property. We never knew what “hot” or “cold” was. No matter what the weather, chances are we could be found outside….doing something….engaged in some sort of “adventure”.

One time we had the grand idea of starting a “zoo”. We spent days hunting down and capturing….or attempting to capture….all sorts of creatures. Frogs, butterflies, fireflies, worms, crickets, grasshoppers, birds (although we never actually caught one), beetles, and as assortment of bees! Needless to say, the bees were not happy with our intentions…..not the wasps, or the hornets or the honeybees or the bumblebees. Real or imagined, we came to believe that ALL the bees knew us….and we were their enemy. Just walking outside the door would bring on an attack. Yeah…. They all knew us; they did not like us; and they were out to get us. Looking back, this probably was not the case at all. But, in the minds of two young boys, it seemed very real….and very terrifying.

Equally as terrifying…and very real….were the geese we owned. They were mean! And, they did not like us! Whenever they saw us….either of us….they would immediately go into attack mode. They would chase us all over the farmyard. Often Mother would see them and come to our rescue. She would pick up a stick or a board and chase them off. But, we were too small….too intimidated….and terrified.

One of our favorite activities, especially in the summer months was playing with the neighbor kids. At various times, we had two families of neighbors who lived across the road with kids about the same age as Arnold and I. Across a field, again there were a couple families that occupied a small house. Down the road maybe a quarter mile….It seemed like at least a mile back then….was a family that was fairly stable. They lived there for most of the time, as I remember.

In the very early days…..probably when I was about 6 or 7 years old, and Arnold was only 4 or 5 years old…..and maybe a little longer than that….one of our favorite past times was to play various “war games”. We older kids were always the “good guys”…the Allies. The younger kids were the “enemy”…..the Krauts (Germans) and the Japs (Japanese). We had very little understanding of what we were doing. No…. Let me amend that. We had absolutely NO idea what we were doing. We only knew who the “good guys” were….and who the “bad guys” were. And, of course, we older kids took the roles of the “good guys”.

Those games slowly faded into the background, to be replaced by more enduring games. The “good guys” – “bad guys” sort of morphed from war games into variations of popular western….cowboy….games. Depending on the day and our mood, some days we “good guys” were Roy Rogers and Dale Evans…..or Gene Autry and some unidentified beautiful female side kick. The younger kids….who were all boys, I might add….happily assumed the role of the “outlaws”. Of course, just as in the movies and on radio, the “good guys” always won.

I don’t think Arnold and the other “bad guys” minded in the least. We really had no idea what we were doing. We were just playing….having fun.

On other days….summer and winter…..we would take off for a woods probably a half mile from our house. It could have been further….and it could have been closer. We had no idea or sense of distance back in those days. On our way, we passed through the city dump. Actually, we made it a point to pass through the city dump! After exploring the mounds of trash and refuse…..and back in those days, there was no such thing as landfills. They hadn’t even been thought of yet….we would continue on to our private woods for an afternoon or a morning of adventure. A small stream ran through the woods. To us, it looked like a river. But, in reality, I can imagine that an average size adult could cross it with a simple jump. Arnold and I discovered a large tree that grew on the very edge of the stream. A large branch hung down almost to the ground. We soon determined that we could take a firm grip on the branch and swing to the other side of the stream. Wow…. This was exciting! We quickly gave the tree a name. It became our “Tarzan Tree”. Our own secret “Tarzan Tree”. I don’t recall ever telling anybody about it. It was our own little secret….our own private secret. (I am not sure how we got back to the other side of the stream. Probably the branch was low enough that we could reach it from the other side of the stream, too.) We made frequent trips to the woods to play with our “Tarzan Tree”.

Times were different back them. There were no security concerns….nobody was afraid of being kidnapped or harmed. Whatever fear we had was generated by our own rather active imagination.

When we were not out about exploring, most of our time was spent playing variations of football or baseball in an empty lot just south of our house….or out in the road in front of our house. I say “variations” because, let’s face it…. When there are only five or six people, you are going to have to be inventive. So, we never let the numbers bother us. We simply made up rules to fit the current situation. When the weather was warm enough, we would play until it was almost too dark to see the ball. Then we would adjourn inside to listen to the radio….or, most likely, go to bed.

Mother subscribed to two magazines for us. The name of my magazine was called “Playmates”. I can’t think of the name of Arnold’s magazine…..although I think is was probably “Jack and Jill”. We eagerly looked forward to receiving them each month. We eagerly devoured each of the magazines, reading every word, looking at every picture, playing every puzzle….over and over again.

From my earliest memory until I graduated from high school, Arnold and I shared a room. By the time we reached this age, our interests were starting to diverge a little bit. He, naturally, made his own friends…..just like I made friends of my own. But, we continued to be close.

We even owned a car together. My first car was a 1947 Chevy. It was a good car….and I do not recall what happened to it. I am not sure Arnold had owned his own car yet. Anyway, we came to an agreement that we would buy a car together….a 1951 Ford. I am not sure why we decided to do this. Looking back, I am sure it was probably an ill-fated business venture from the very beginning. At the time, it must have sounded like a pretty good deal, though. We negotiated an equitable time table….and everything was set.

By this time I am sure that Arnold had a part time job somewhere…..maybe working for Smith Dairy in Sterling. Smith Dairy was located on the southwest outskirts of town….probably not a comfortable walking distance from our house. The car undoubtedly was a big deal for him. It meant the difference between riding is bicycle….or even walking….. a mile or so….or driving. I was working at Dillons every day after school, so I really didn’t need the car much during the week. If I had the car on weekends….and maybe Friday night….that was sufficient for me.

The real problems came with our personal habits, though. Arnold’s friends were not my friends…..and more important….Some of Arnold’s friends had acquired some bad habits…such as drinking. One night….and I really do not know or cannot recall the details….Arnold and some of his friends were involved in an accident….while he was driving “our” vehicle. The accident did not involve another vehicle. Maybe they….he….had ran into a road barrier or something similar. Anyway, the car was totaled…. Arnold was arrested…. I was without a car…. Fortunately, the judge gave Arnold the option of being charged with a variety of not so attractive crimes, which could have resulted in some serious consequences…..OR, with joining the Army. Fortunately, he chose to join the Army…..probably one of the better decisions he ever made.

Dating back from this time….and this was in the mid and late 1950’s….we were more or less separated. He spent a couple years in Germany. By the time he had come back home, I had joined the Army…..after which I spent three additional years in South Vietnam. He got married….settled down….had kids….

But, throughout the intervening years, even though we were no longer living in close proximity,  we had always stayed in touch. After he settled down in Lyons, I tried to drive out and see him once every six weeks or so. He made semi-frequent trips to see me. Whenever I was in Lyons, one of our favorite past times was to drive around….looking at all the places that were important to us as we were growing up….reliving the past…..reminiscing about things we had done and people we had known

As close as were during our growing up years, and as much time as we spent together, I cannot remember a single fight that we had. Oh, I am sure there were childhood disagreements. There had to be. But, these were quickly resolved. But….as for a real “fight”…. No, I can’t remember any. Serious “disagreements”? I don’t think so. And, this is the way it remained up until the last day.

Even now, almost four months after he died, I am still tempted to pick up the phone and call him….just to see how he is doing and what is going on. But…. Sadly, I can’t do this. But, I can look back fondly on all the good memories that we built together.

Ahhh…. Now for the second of he “Big Three” events that took place in 2018. Maybe you are going to have a difficult time wondering why I have included it…. And, I will probably have a hard time explaining it. But, on 6:30 P.M. on July 28, I officially became 80 years old. Yeah…. I know, lot’s of people are 80 years old….and even older….are still roaming around on the face of this earth. But, somehow, turning 80 years old just seems pretty cool. I have lived in parts of 9 different decades…..and while I haven’t “seen it all”…. Believe me….I have seen a LOT of it. I can now talk about stuff that is legitimately in history books. The end of World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the dropping of the first atomic bombs, the explosion of the first nuclear bomb. I lived through the “Cold War”….and I saw communism collapse. I watched the Watergate Scandal unfold on TV, and subsequently watched the one and only U.S.A. President resign in disgrace.

I grew up before running water, before electricity….and certainly before television, the telephone and computers. I was able to simply walk up to the ticket office at Allen Field house and buy tickets for K. U. games….and also the Final Four in Houston. And, that was back when basketball players wore “short shorts”….before the days of the baggy shorts they wear today. And, guess what? I wore them, too. I grew up when if you got in trouble at school, you got into even bigger trouble at home. I paid $1200 for my first new Volkswagen….and thought it was a fortune. We could ride our bicycles to the nearest service stations, put a nickle in the Coke machine and get a Coke….in a real glass bottle….and then take the bottle back and get a refund.

I grew up when we actually elected patriotic men as President of the United States…..men like Roosevelt, Truman, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson…. We elected men who were qualified for the office…. NOT Reality stars who are not emotionally immature, but were lying, dishonest, sexual predator self-serving (maybe) billionaires who got their start from multi-million dollar gifts from their father….and then mismanaged their businesses to a point where they went bankrupt five or more times.

I grew up when our society was basically agricultural….when producing our own food was common….large gardens, homemade bread and butter and cheese and ice cream.

You get it? A lot has changed since I made my first appearance on this fragile earth…and most of it has not been for the better.

When I was young, 65 years was old….ancient. As I look back to my grade school days in Lyons, I can remember thinking how “old” all my teachers were. They all seemed like they were all old enough be grandparents…..or great-grandparents. And, I can also remember seeing funeral notices in the newspaper 30 or maybe even 40 years later….some after I was living in Ozawkie. Needless to say, I was startled…. I looked to see how old they were when they died. Surely, they must be 100 or 110 years old! But, No…. They were generally in their 70’s or 80’s. That meant they must have been relatively young when they were my teachers…. Some of them must have been younger than my mother. I guess it is all a matter of perspective. Age perspective to a child is sort of like distance perspective or size perspective, I guess. Remember… I told you that what seemed like a mile or two when I was a kid was, in reality, only a block two.

Age….. MY age…..had long been a topic of interest when I was still a classroom teacher. My students constantly asked how old I was. And, just as constantly, I told them not to worry about it. I am not sure why it was such a hot topic. Did they ask other teachers how old they were? They might have…. I probably should have just told them… But, I didn’t. And, of course, it became an even bigger mystery. Some of them asked out secretary. She told them to get lost. A couple of them….runners of mine, in fact….even went to the extraordinary length of finding my mother’s telephone number and asking her. They concocted some sort of story about wanting to give me a party or some such bull. Mother told them to ask me! Of course, my mother told me this story…..not my students.

Even the parents were not so innocent when it came to guessing my age. For many years, I was in charge of the Saturday morning intramural basketball program. One Saturday morning I was sitting on the stage watching the kids play. From time to time, parents would come in and watch their kids play….and (or) catch up on the latest gossip. As I sat there watching the two games…..we played a split court….I glanced at a couple mothers who were sitting on the bleachers. It was very apparent they were talking about me. They kept glancing my way in such a way that there was no doubt that I was the topic of their conversation.

I decided that I would walk down to the far end of the gym to check with the coaches. I intentionally strolled past the two women. Just as I was about to pass them, one of them said, “Mr. Darrah…. We have been trying to figure out how old you are.”

Oh….. So that was what they were talking about. “A little over 21….and a little under 65,” I told them….smiling, of course. And, I walked on. As I would find out later, I was almost the same age as they were…..only I probably looked younger! A person’s age seems to fascinate some people. At least, it give them something to think about….which might not happen otherwise.

Somewhere around the time I retired, I had a change of heart about telling people my age. I was eager to retire. In fact, I could barely wait until my last day of work. Wow…. I was turning 65 years old….and I deserve to retire. I had been in working in the field of education for 40 years, and it was starting to feel like it. And, I was starting to feel like it, too!

So….. Yes. My eightieth birthday was a big deal. It was a big deal in a way…..but it went practically unnoticed. Fayez came up for my birthday. Probably not so much to celebrate my birthday….. He forgot my gift, and I finally received it at Christmas time….but, rather to help me finish up the process of moving from my house in Ozawkie to my present home in Topeka.

We arrived at the old house around 9:00 in the morning….and worked until sometime in the mid-afternoon….not at celebrating my birthday, but at loading the last of the junk to take to my new home. There was little time to even think about birthdays…. This was the last weekend Fayez could help me before he left to go to Saudi Arabia to visit his family. Whatever we didn’t get moved on that Saturday…. Well, either I would have to move it myself….or it simply would not get moved. So…. I suppose this most valuable birthday gift was simply that we were fortunate in getting most of the remaining stuff loaded into my pickup. The Ericksons also contributed to my “birthday gift” by bringing a big trailer over and hauling a huge load of “trash” to their landfill. And, believe me….. That was infinitely better than a box of chocolates!

It wasn’t until we got back to the townhouse….unloaded the stuff from the back of the pickup…..and had taken a shower, that we even thought about my old age! Even though Fayez forgot to bring my gift….if indeed he even had one…..he did not forget to bring a birthday cake. (Like I said…. He finally gave me my birthday gift at Christmas.) I cut the cake while Fayez took some pictures…..then we went to Golden Corral and ate. It had been a long, work intensive day, so we simply went back to the townhouse….and went to bed.

So…. The day just sort of came….and it went. But, the is OK. I am still 80 years old….whether I spent it celebrating in a bar….or at a big party….or moving stuff from my old house to my home.

That brings me to the third important event of 2018. I moved.

That probably does not seem like a momentous event to many people. The USA has a mobile society. During a person’s adult life, reliable studies show that the average American family moves every five years. The equals about sixteen times during the average lifetime.

As for me…. Well, I don’t think I am normal when it comes tothis statistic. I have had three permanent homes throughout my lifetime. During what I call my childhood years, we lived in Lyons for about 13 years. During my high school and college years…and in fact, during my early teaching years…..we lived in Sterling. And for more than 44 years, I lived in what I fondly called the Darrah Ranch, Ozawkie Township. Yes…. Those were my only permanent homes. Yeah…. There are gaps to be filled in. But, the other places were transitory homes….. The Army, a brief stent of teaching in Kansas City, the International Voluntary

Services.

Yes…. The Darrah Ranch was home for more than 44 years, well over half my life. You can read one of the previous blogs to find out about that phase of my life, if you are interested.

But, at the urging of…..well, almost everybody I would listen to, I made the difficult decision to move to Topeka. There were considerations such as, but I suppose not limited to….cutting down on the number of miles I drove each week; closer proximity to my doctors and my hospital; closer proximity to family…..

Anyway, I reluctantly made the decision to move…..after living at the Darrah Ranch for more than 44 years. This, obviously, was a major decision. It meant uprooting myself from the house and property that I had worked hard to make my own. Just ask anybody who had visited me. It was definitely MY house; one of a kind. Once you visited, you probably were not going to forget it. Some people liked it; some people loved it….and some people did not! Oh well… That was their problem. And, they could always leave by the same door they came in.

That was the house….the only house….where I had many adult memories: my “souvenirs”, my books, my stained glass, my home made furniture. It was the house where I lived with my three beloved dogs; it was the house where I hosted ten foreign exchange students; it was the house where a wood stove was my primary source of heat for about forty years; it was the house that I literally transformed from a horse pasture.

What was it like to move? In just a few words: miserable…frustrating…time consuming (sorry, that is two words), tiring….

If you are one of those people who move every five years….. I give you my sympathy. Good Luck! I do not envy you. Anyway, you are probably young….and you obviously have not accumulated a lot of stuff.

If you are one of those more “permanent” residents who have been rooted in one place for a long time….. My advice to you: If you really do not have to move…. Then Don’t! If it is an absolute necessity, I hope you find out early so you can start to plan.

Start early on your packing….. I mean months early, if possible. Go through everything! Every room, every shelf, every drawer, every closet, every possible place where you may have stashed anything. If you don’t need it…. If you have not used it for more than 6 months or a year…. If you have forgotten that you even had it….. If you can’t wear it….. If it has an inch of dust on it….. Throw it away…. Or donate it to some charitable organization. If you have not used it in a year…. Chances are, you are never going to use it.

Decide what you are really sentimental about. If you can’t remember who gave something to you….. Why keep it? If you can’t remember when or where you bought something….. Then why do you even care about it?

This is what I did….. And, it is something that was difficult when I first started sorting stuff. “Oh, wow…. Should I really throw this away?” But, as the work continued, it became much easier. My students have given me gifts over the years that I taught in the classroom. Who gave it to me? When? Was it for Christmas? If I couldn’t answer those questions….. Out it went.

And…. All those clothes I saved. “Someday I will lose a lot of weight, and I will be able to wear them again.” Yeah…. Right. That was certainly a fantasy. Get rid of them. All that junk in the kitchen. Most of it was dirty and would require a thorough, vigorous scrubbing before it could ever been used again….if ever. Throw it away. And, all those books! As I looked through then….blowing a healthy layer of dust off them, I found myself asking: What was this book about? Wow…. This book doesn’t contain anything that I can’t find more up-to-date information on the Internet…. There is still a bookmark in this book. I didn’t even like it well enough to finish it….. What is this? I don’t even remember what it was about! So….. I donated them to the local library.

Even after donating upwards to 20 trash bags of old clothing, more than 15 boxes of books, and throwing away countless trash bags of “junk”, the amount of stuff still left was appalling. It didn’t even appear to make a dent.

As I said earlier, the decision to move was difficult. Somehow I never seemed to seriously consider it until perhaps six months or a year before I actually setting the decision in stone, so to speak. I probably should have realized that this decision would be inevitable as time passed by…..and I became older. If I would have known….probably I would have not have accumulated so much stuff. Who knows? Maybe so….maybe not. Even before I started looking for another place to live, I knew that I was not going to seriously “downsize”. I intended to take all my possessions with me…..one way or another. Of course, all the “outside” stuff was going to stay. I would have no need for it….and I was certainly sentimental about it. I also knew early in the process that I would never own property again…..no matter where I was living. People always talk about the benefits and advantages of owning property. Not me! Been there….and done that. I was weary taking care of property…constantly facing the problems of upkeep, maintenance and repair. Give me an apartment….or a town house….any old day. But…. It must be large enough to accommodate my possessions.

After scouring the “Apartment for Rent” ads for a few months, I continued to see the advertisement for the “Colonial Town House” complex. The “rent” seemed reasonable. I drove down to Topeka on several occasions to check it out…..taking people with me most of the time. It appeared to be clean, attractive, peaceful and orderly. I began to check the online crime map….over a period of several months. Crime was almost non-existent.

I finally made the decision. I drove down to the townhouse office….and asked for an application. I was taken by surprise when I learned that the townhouses are not rental property. A person has to buy his share in the townhouse association….depending on the size of the townhouse. What I had thought of as rent is actually a homeowners fee…also depending on the size of the townhouse. At first, I was somewhat annoyed. Deceptive advertising. But, as I considered the situation, I am actually pleased in this arrangement. Only people who are serious about living here….and only people with enough money to buy into the townhouse association….live here. This not a place where people move in, pay their rent for one month and then skip out…. Unless they want to lose their considerable investment in their townhouse. The result seems to be: The townhouse compound is populated with mostly middle class families….people who have a steady….and probably permanent….job. They do to work every day….their kids go to school every day….. They come home, eat supper, go to bed…..and get up and do it all over the next day.

Sultan arrived the last part of May to spend the summer. That is when the “packing” began in earnest. I mean packing the stuff that would really be moved. There were boxes stacked everywhere…..in the garage, in the kitchen, in the front room… There were well over 50 boxes…..probably closer to 100 boxes of stuff. Actually, we thought we had done a pretty good job….

We had a trip planned. We did packing up until the Thursday before we left. Friday was devoted to packing for our trip….picking up the rental car….. But, we felt that we were in good shape. The manager of the townhouse complex had given the OK to move in as soon as we got back. As I mentioned in the previous blog, I spent a lot of time while we were traveling on my cell phone taking care of the details of moving: hiring a moving van, arranging for electricity to be activated, getting cable, telephone installed…..

Moving day….Monday, July 2….rolled around. Sultan and I felt that we were ready. About 8:00 in the morning the movers arrived. They simply walked in….unannounced. When we say them, I looked at Sultan. Sultan looked at me. The question in each of our expressions was, “These are our movers?!”  I was expecting three men dressed in some sort of uniforms….maybe with the name of the moving company written on their shirts.  But…..  Here, standing before us, were two black guys and a Mexican guy. That, in itself, was OK. No problem…. Except that one of the black guys was wearing his jeans down around his knees….and he already had his cell phone glued between his shoulder and his ear. And, it stayed that was for the remainder of the day. I don’t know….. Like I said….. Somehow I had expected to see three guys show up, wearing some sort of uniform….or at least an identifying logo on their shirts…. Oh well….. The other black guy and the Mexican guy were good workers.

The real problem was moving all the shelving units. All of them were built in the room where they were located. Most of them would not fit through the doorway. They had to be cut down …… or they had to be left behind. Sultan and I worked as furiously as we could to cut the shelves down while the movers were loading the boxes into the van. It was an uphill battle…. And, in the end, I think that we lost the battle.

There was constant conflict between the three movers…. Well, mostly between the two black guys. One of them was the boss…. He was in charge. He did the stacking in the back of the van. The other two workers were….well, the workers. Like I said, the Mexican guy worked conscientiously all day. The tall black guy? Well…. He was worthless. The boss guy was constantly shouting at him, “Put away that @$%?& cell phone and get to work.”

Sultan and I stood by helplessly….doing whatever we could to be of assistance….which was not much. It was really a sight to behold. The supervisor in the back of the van, shouting at the black guy with the cell phone and his jeans about to fall off….the Mexican guy doing his best to get the stuff out of the house….the tall black guy shuffling back and forth maybe carrying a book or a pan or a pillow….or standing in the shade of a tree….all the while talking on his cell phone. Mostly, I was eagerly waiting for the tall black guy’s jeans to fall completely down to his ankles…..which he was in the midst of carrying some heavy furniture. That would have made an interesting photo. And, it would have been even more entertaining to see what he would have done…..to see which was more important: his cell phone which was still cradled between his face and his shoulder….the furniture he was carrying…..or his jeans.

Finally, around 3:00 in the afternoon, the van was full…..and we took off for Topeka. The disaster continued. They were tired by this time….. Mostly, tired of us! Their attitude became mostly just, “Let’s get it done….and let’s get out of here.” It may be a slight (and only slight) exaggeration to say that their attitude became surly…. Whatever. But as they carried furniture into the house, they banged stuff against walls. Scraped paint off walls….and unless, we watched carefully, simply plopped furniture and boxes wherever they wanted.

In the coming days, when it was all over and the dust had settled, we found that they had broken the washing machine, gotten grease spots on the carpet (Who knows where they came from.), and put furniture in the wrong room. We also discovered that a shotgun that I had for more than thirty years was missing….along with too many other things to even mention. I had considered filing some sort of charges against them….or at the very least, contacting the Better Business Bureau or the Attorney General’s office. But, as Sultan said, jokingly, I think…. “Remember. They know where you live!”

But…. Here is my advice. No…. Here is my Warning: Never, under any circumstances, hire the Dawson Moving Company.

So….. Here I am. Am I going to like it here? Who knows? Only time will tell. Right now I like to call it my “comfortable prison”. The change from owning an acre and a half of land out in the country where my nearest neighbors are at least 100 yards on each side of me….where I had a covered patio with a swing…..a deck running the full length of the house…..enough trees that provided privacy….where I could turn my CD player as loud as I wanted…. A change to living in a confined space with only a tiny patio in back of the townhouse….no front yard….neighbors attached to both sides….one assigned parking space….. Where I have to keep the drapes pulled and the doors locked….. Where I do not know any of my neighbors…. OK…. You get it. It is a huge change in my life and in my life style….from being a country boy to trying to be a city boy…. From knowing almost everybody to knowing nobody…..

Yes…..Only time will give the answer. Check back in a few years….and maybe I will actually be writing exciting things about my life….maybe I will love the place….. I hope so.

There were other things that made 2018 special. This was the year that I fulfilled another of my long-help goals. I completed visiting all 50 of the states in the USA. Long ago, I had driven through all of the Western States…..most of them multiple times. And, I had the pictures to verify it to people who perhaps thought I was stretching the truth. When I say “Western” states, I mean all the states west of the Mississippi River. For many years….until Berlin came along….this was always the direction I headed for a summer vacation. Yes….for some years, trips to Berlin sort of replaced the trips to the Oregon Coast. If I could go to Berlin….I didn’t worry about going anywhere else.

During the period when I was coaching AAU Junior Olympics in the summer, some of the athletes were fortunate enough to qualify to participate in the National Finals. I am not sure how….but they did. The national finals were held in Clearwater, Florida. It was a long ways to drive….but could we really pass up an opportunity to say we had been to the Nationals? And, to be honest, I don’t remember all of the kids who qualified. I remember two or three of them…..enough to bring back bad memories. Anyway, we drove down to Florida….participated….did horribly….and come back home…… As quickly as possible. Taking pictures was one of the last things on my mind! So…. Yes, I knew I had been there, but I had no way of visually demonstrating it.

On at least two occasions, Fayez and I had planned to take trips down through the Southern States….and on two occasions, I planned an efficient trip…..and on two occasions, Fayez backed out at the last minute.

But, when Sultan came to spend the summer, we actually made the trip. (And you can read all about it in a previous blog.) The main highlight for me….in fact, probably the only highlight…..was the fact that when we crossed the border from South Carolina into Georgia…..I had been in all 50 states….and had pictures to prove it! One of my goals had been reached….Goal?…. Bragging point? Not much difference, I suppose. I am glad it is over….and I am glad I was with Sultan….. and I am sure there is no reason for me to ever to there again. Been there…. Done that. Cross another thing off the bucket list.

 

 

 

 

Another event took place that was very satisfying and special to me. Fayez received his Bachelor’s Degree in bio-medical engineering from Wichita State University at the end of the academic year.

Fayez found my name listed on an international hospitality site in 2012. I got a message asking if he could come and stay at my house….the house in Ozawkie…. During the long winter semester break. I accepted his request….fortunately. For a couple months we kept in touch via Skype. It was slow going, so say the least. He came to the USA….namely Wichita State University…..knowing almost no English. Or let’s be even more realistic: He did not know any English.

To begin with out conversations were very basic. A lot of smiling at each other back in those days. There was not a lot of actual talking in those first meetings. Mostly he looked up words that I used…..and looked up words to write back. But… We did communicate. I scoured my brain for something “interesting” to talk about. A typical
Skype session might go something like this. “Do you like soccer?”…… Sit and wait for a few minutes while he translated. “Yes, I do,” he might reply. “What did you do today?”….. “I studied English.” ….. “What did you study?”….. “I studied nouns.”…..

It was during one of these faithful Skype conversations that learned that he played handball. “Oh, Wow!” I thought. “I used to play handball almost every day of the week.” Sadly, the kind of handball he played….and the kind of handball I played were two vastly different games. But, on the good side: It gave us something to talk about. Something for him to base conversations on.

To get on with the story….. He same to my house one cold day in December in 2012. I also had another guest staying with me at that time…..a Chinese kid, whom I have completely lost track of. The Chinese kid…also a student wanting a place to stay during the long 5 o5 6 week semester break….arrived one day earlier, and consequently got the spare room. Fayez was relegated to the top bunk in my room.

Fayez was supposed to arrive at my house in the mid-afternoon….around 3:00. Three o’clock came and went; then 4:00…..then 5:00. I was starting to become concerned. Finally, he called. He was lost. He had written the wrong street number into his GPS. I tried to explain to him how to get to my house…..but he had ended up in Valley Falls at the service station. Fortunately, they knew me.

“I will drive down to the corner and wait for you,” I told him. I proceeded to put on some winter clothing and get the car warmed up…. Then I took off for the corner of 130^th Street and Ferguson Road. About halfway down the road, a black car went zooming past me. “Oh, wow….. That has to be him.” He didn’t even slow down. And, I knew that (at that time) my house was positioned wrong on the GPS. I slammed on the brakes on and took off in hot pursuit after him. Sure enough, he realized his mistake about a half mile on beyond my house, and was heading back toward me.

I stopped my car, flashed the lights….. He slammed on his brakes….. Got out of the car with a big smile on his face…. That was my formal introduction to Fayez. He followed me back to my house….as a guest. And….He never left. He stayed on as a member of my family.

During the intervening years….and it seems like I have known Fayez all my life….. my home has been his home. He spends holidays at my….our…house. We have taken several major trips together. I have read and corrected…or suggested corrections….for enough of his college work to form a small book. I have watched him develop into a fluent speaker. (And sometimes, I think I prefer this teen age kid who knew almost no English!). I have watched him become confident and successful.

So…. It is not surprising that his college graduation was an important event in my life….one of those highlights that does not come around very often. So…. On the morning of Saturday, May 19, I drove to Wichita to attend his graduation ceremony.

Probably if it had been anybody else, I would not have endured the torturous event. It would definitely not be my first choice for a weekend activity…..or any other time, for that matter.

First was the drive to Wichita…..and having to drive within the city of Wichita. Long ago, I thought nothing of this. Driving in Wichita was almost as common as driving in Topeka. But, that was another day and time. Today I am very hesitant and reluctant to drive in cities that I am not familiar with. Well…I made it there….and found the motel where I would be staying. It was an attractive motel with apparently lots of activities and diversions for its customers. But…. Even though the motel was attractive and had an ultra-modern appearance, it could well have been the most uncomfortable place I have ever stayed. There was not a comfortable chair in the entire room. The room was as dark as a dungeon. The choice of TV channels was as limited as swimming pools in the Sahara Desert! All of those activities and diversions? You’ve to be joking. Believe me…. They were not free. If a person thought he was going to be treated to a relaxing and fun time….. There was a rude shock. All of it….every single activity….had a monetary charge…. Sort of a deception!

Fayez picked me up perhaps two and a half hours before the ceremony was scheduled to start. He had to be there early, he said. I have graduated from college three times….and I must say Wichita State University must be an extra cautious or nervous university. Normally, an hour or even thirty minutes is deemed sufficient time to get lined up for the ceremony. Fayez led his day and me to a ring-side seat in Koch Arena. And, believe me…..we had no problem find a good seat. Nobody else was there! Koch Area seats 10,500 people…..and we had first choice!

Chances are I slept most of the time while I was waiting for the graduation proceedings to start. Finally, the moment arrived….the graduates began to stream into the area…. Streaming….and streaming…..and streaming….. Normally….and I am speaking of the University of Kansas and also of Washburn University….. (and also at the one commencement ceremony I attended at Kansas State University)…..each school…and often each division has there own short ceremony. From start to finish, they are over and done with in 45 minutes or so…. Not Wichita State University! Wichita State for some reasons lumped ALL of the engineering schools and ALL of the business schools together for this commencement ceremony.

It seemed like the proceedings went on for an eternity…..speech after speech….introduction after introduction…..recognition after recognition…. And…. They hadn’t even begun to pass out the diplomas. So…. I did what any normal person would do: I feel asleep again! Yes…. I woke up in time to see Fayez receive his diploma. (I had had a refreshing nap by then!). I got to see Fayez graduate….two and a half hours later.

But… It wasn’t over. Then there was all the “congratulations” outside the area. I am sure that every Arab in Wichita was there that day. And, it was like they had never seen each other before…. Introductions here….introduction there… Pictures here….pictures there…. Kissing here….kissing there…. And, Yes, of course, these were all males. Not a female to be seen…..

At night, we all went out to eat….at an Arab restaurant, of course. As naive as I am….I thought it would be only Fayez, his dad, and me…. But….as innocent (or ignorant) as I am, this was hardly the way it turned out. Yes, Fayez was there….his dad was there….and I was there. But so were a hundred others….all speaking Arabic…. My Arabic has never been very good.

Fortunately, there were two other students there who did not speak Arabic. They moved down the table and took seats near me…. We sat and help our own quiet conversation in the midst of the general loud boisterous pandemonium that surrounded us.

Don’t get the wrong idea…. This all probably sounds rather sarcastic….maybe even a little hostile! But, it isn’t. In general, this is an accurate account of what took place. You know…. Don’t kill the messenger…..

Needless to say, I am proud of Fayez and his accomplishments. Seeing him receive his diploma for his bachelor’s degree was a happy moment indeed. Fayez has indeed been an important part of my life. He is an intelligent, ambitious young man who has a vision of his future….and he is working diligently and faithfully to bring his vision into reality. Someday he will be making important contributions to the field of medicine and to the field of bio-medical engineering.

What other important things took place during 2018? Of course, there lots of things….but which of them were important enough to be permanent or life changing? One thing that may or may not fit into that category sort of goes along with moving from Ozawkie to Topeka. For the past almost 50 years, I have voted in my precinct of Ozawkie Township. I have voted in every election since I turned 21 (This was back in the “old days”.)…..and except for a few fleeting years, the only local candidates I knew were the elected officials of Jefferson County. Although I never voted for any of them, I knew the Republican candidates as well as I knew the Democratic Party candidates whom I voted for. Of the Republicans always won….so I suppose it was easy to be familiar with them. On the country level, I have to admit….. There probably is not a lot of difference. I even ran for….and was elected to….a public office in Jefferson County. It was a non-partisan position, but nevertheless, I felt qualified enough…and confident enough….to actually run….and win.

Moving to Topeka and Shawnee County opened up an entirely different field of elected officials. Although I had seen and heard them on TV since I moved here, it never occurred tome that I would be voting for them some day. Even after seeing all the names of city councilmen, county commissioners, school board members, state legislators, etc. in the newspaper, on the Internet and on TV, I really still have no idea which ones live in my district and are representing me. From now on, I will watch more carefully and be more aware when I see and hear these faces. It is the least I can do, considering that I have no plans to ever move again. Of course, it would be easier to simply drive back up to Ozawkie and vote there…considering I still own property there. But, I really have no desire to spend my remaining years locked away in a prison….and being a Democrat….that would surely be my fate in this Republican dominated state.

There may be other events that I could list here…. I bought a new car. Well, not a “new” new car…. But new to me. It is a two-door, and someday soon, I hope it is history. What was I thinking? I think the confusion of the summer must have impaired by brain, or at least, my judgment….of I would have most assuredly have bought a four-door. But…. This is a correctable mistake…and it will only affect my life for a short period of time, hopefully.

I have already alluded to the trip and Sultan and I took through the southeastern states. Fayez and I spent some days in Colorado earlier in the year. These trips were not life-changing…..but they were fun….and I will remember them for the rest of my life.

Maybe just one more thing: I wore a “Life Alert” bracelet for much of the year until I moved. This simple little, uncomfortable device could have potentially been life-changing. Considering all the times I felt like taking it off and putting it on a shelf, I think I must have valued it….and acknowledged its importance. In fact, I really do recognize how important it was…..and I fully intend to get a new one….even more comprehensive and high-tech. I am convinced it is a worthwhile expense….and a potentially life saving little gadget. And, I have to thank Jan McKnight for pushing me to finally get it.

OK…. I think that is about it…. As I said in the beginning these are some of the events that were important landmarks. They brought about some changes in my life that were momentous and irreversible. Some of them will have an effect on my life…..Well, forever.