Blessings

Middle Child

I had the good fortune to be raised in a family of seven children with a stay at home mom, family meals together, and all those “old fashioned family fixin’s”. We were raised as a Catholic Family, for which I am grateful. Children were always considered a gift from God, and we all were raised accepting what God gave us as the way it is and all a part of the plan.

At the risk of messing up dates, I will attempt to order the seven of us – Charles was born in 1954, the eldest son, named after Grandpa Carl Jarding. Cynthia came along a year later in 1955. I was born in 1957, named after dad, but with a different middle name, so I would not be called junior – I ended up being Jimmy to most of our family and relatives. Connie was born in 1958, John came along in 1959, Donna in 1961, and Bob was born in 1963. We also had a baby brother born after Bob, named Gerald, who lived only about 8 hours – he had what they called blue lung or some type of breathing disorder that he did not survive. I remember seeing him in a tiny Styrofoam box in the back seat of a funeral hearse at the cemetery right before we buried him. He looked like a little porcelain doll. He was our first saint in heaven who has been up there praying for our family all these years.

As I had written earlier, Connie had a very difficult delivery, and had Cerebral Palsy her entire life because of that delivery. I have often thought that but for the grace of God I could have been that breech delivery, or any one of us for that matter. Connie went home to heaven in 2005, after 47 years of life in a wheel chair, watching and loving all of us. She is our second saint in heaven. I know that she now prays for me and is watching over me. I look forward to being able to converse with her in that not too distant future.

There has been a lot of material written on birth order and how it affects the children in a family. The oldest children are always in charge and tell everyone what to do. The middle children are the peace keepers and survivors, and the younger children are used to being taken care of.

I think we kind of follow that pattern in our family, at least from my perspective. My wife says I am more of the oldest child in telling people what to do. As my life has gone on, I have seen myself as one who tries to make sure everyone is treated fairly and that we get things done. I have been in a supervisory position most of my working career, so I am used to telling people what to do and trying to get things done. I have no qualms about trying to take charge of almost every situation – I guess that is in my upbringing. I tried to weigh both sides of an issue, and then do what had to be done to resolve the issue.

I had the privilege of growing up on a farm and then in a small town in South Dakota. Dad and mom rented a couple of different farms near Humboldt during my earliest years. I was just big enough to get into trouble (6 years old) and to help carry one half of a bushel basket of ground feed when Dad got his job as a Rural Mail Carrier and we moved into Humboldt. The few adventures I do remember on the farm were – catching baby pink mice and bringing them in to show mom – she screamed and we had to put them back (by the way, baby mice can’t swim very well in a mud puddle) We had to gather eggs and help with what chores we could do. Cynthia was my outside chore helper at that time. Charles was getting old enough to start to drive tractor and to help dad with the chores. We had been milking cattle then, raised pigs, chickens, and fed cattle for meat. I remember when we butchered meat, our neighbor, Jack Even, would come over and help out along with other friends and relatives. The animals would be shot, then cut in half and hung from a tractor loader to be further processed. Grandpa and grandmas came over as well. The animal was all used – meat, tongue, liver, heart, tail, blood sausage, and even the fat was rendered down to lard to be used for cooking. You still cannot beat the taste of the pork sausages we had back then.

I remember walking out through the pasture behind our farm south of Pumpkin Center to pick wild asparagus with Cynthia. Mom always had a big garden, and there was always a lot to do on a farm for a young boy. Mom made homemade bread most of the time, but if we were short a loaf of bread, we got to walk the half mile north on the gravel road up to Pumpkin Center to visit the little gas station store to pick up some bread. That was kind of a treat back then to get to go into the store and see all the candy and items now found in convenience stores.

It was good to be in the middle and it was a great childhood. Not too scarred from what I saw or from the punishments and corrections I received, and still able to discern right from wrong most of the time. I had to learn to share very early on, and we used all we had until it was all used up. There are not any antique toy tractors from our place, we drove the wheels off of them. A bicycle went through three kids at least, and hand-me down and stitched clothing was all in style. My mom even mended socks – can you imagine that today – nobody mends socks now. Mom sewed and patched a lot of our clothing as well. She has always been a gifted seamstress.

Thanks to you Mom and Dad, we all made it through those growing up years and survived still speaking to each other. I think we are closer as a family because of that upbringing, and we have our parents and the faith we have in God to thank for that basis. 

Growing Up

In 1963 we moved into Humboldt and had a new house built. We lived in an old old house while the new one was built, which took about 6 months at that time. As we grew up, we always shared a bedroom with at least one other sibling, sometimes two. There were many little fights and arguments, but in the end you settled in and got to sleep, or got to visit with Dad about it. Some of those visits resulted in a sore hind end, but we clearly understood the rules and the consequences of not following them. I do not think I have been permanently scarred as a result of a spanking now and then either.

Those years growing up in Humboldt were filled with adventures. The only TV we had was one unit that was black and white with maybe two channels. We watched only at night after dinner and dishes, and then it was the news, Lawrence Welk once a week, rawhide or maybe Bonanza. I remember watching Neil Armstrong make his first step on the moon and listening to Walter Cronkite narrate on the news. That was pretty cool for a boy my age. I was going to be an astronaut, then become a priest. I had thought I might be the first priest to get to fly to the moon. I also remember when Hee Haw came onto TV the first time – I thought it was just hilarious. Anyway, our days and nights were not filled with TV and video games, so we made our own fun. We had a large concrete driveway with a basketball hoop on it. We played basketball almost nightly with a lot of guys from the town. We played pickup games, with call your own foul, or argue about it. We had some great outside shooters as well. Sometimes, as only brothers can attest to, I would argue enough with John that we had to step off the court and wrestle out a call before we could get back into the game. Poor John didn’t win many of those, or was it the other way around.

We would play Pee Wee baseball in season – everyone went out for baseball, everyone played, it was just what we did. I could not ever properly swing a bat or throw, but I had fun trying with my friends. Football season brought sandlot football – full contact, of course, and no pads. Winter time brought ice skating on a pond flooded and maintained by the City maintenance man. We even had a small hut with a wood stove to keep us warm. Lots of pick up homemade hockey stick games and skating at night.

Summertime meant freedom to ride bikes all over town, build forts on vacant lots, catch fresh water crawdads in a little creek for fishing bait, hunt night crawlers at night after or during a rainstorm, and fishing. We would fish at Beaver Lake, Lost Lake, or Lake Vermillion. We would catch bullheads by the five gallon pail, then clean them and eat fried bullheads. My sisters loved the fried tails – a taste I never did acquire.

There were times we convinced my dad to let us ride our bikes out to Lake Vermillion, pitch a little tarp tent, and stay overnight to fish. Real outdoorsmen – I remember getting stormed on one night, but dad drove out to rescue us and haul our stuff home.

There was a place on the river just north of the Lake called Shipoke Grove. We used to catch a lot of crappies and bluegills at the right time of year in that area. One night when I was a young high schooler, I was fishing for crappies, and a 6 pound northern hit my line. I ended up getting him landed, which was probably only because he didn’t fight the line too much. I was one excited young man, being used to catching crappies, bluegills, and bull heads. This was a true trophy to me. I proudly hauled him home and still can taste that fried northern pike. I always have liked the taste of northern, though today’s fishermen seldom seem to want to mess with the rather slimy predator fish. Fun to catch now, but mainly released right away.

I remember when I was in early high school we got a brand new John Deere snowmobile. All of us were lined up waiting to take it for the first ride. We had to take turns, and go in order of age. Charles rode away and came back okay. Cynthia had her friend with her, and took her turn. She didn’t come back and didn’t come back.  Finally, here she came, walking up the road. They had run through a fence behind the school, scratching the brand new machine, and breaking off the windshield. I suppose we should have been grateful she didn’t get hurt, but her brothers wanted to hurt her. We survived – it turns out a new snowmobile with a shorter windshield rides about as well as a brand new one.

I spent most of my summers from sixth grade to about freshman, mowing yards for people. Dad had also always had one or two John Deere garden tractors, so we went around the area and rotary tilled peoples gardens during the spring and fall. My mowing consisted of taking care of several older people’s yards in town. I would push the mower around town with a gas can and mow and trim yards all summer. $2.00 per cutting. I had a short paper route for a short time as well. I remember mowing for Leo Even, an older guy in town at the time. He almost always had to have a bottle of coke with me after I completed the job. “T” Even would have to cook me a hamburger or give me something when I mowed for her. Everybody knew everybody, and they were the nicest people you could hope to meet.

When I was about a sophomore, I did not have any prospects of summer employment beyond the mowing, and dad and I had decided it was time for me to branch out to something bigger. We had some friends over one night to visit, and the topic was brought up. Well, their brother-in-law had a farm west of Oldham and was looking for a farm helper for the summer. A call or two was made, and I had a job. We drove up to Oldham, went 10 miles west, and met Don and Donna Neises. They had five girls and two boys, and I was to become the live-in farm helper-family member for the summer. I remember a feeling of dread and apprehension, but they welcomed me into their family right away like I was one of their own, and I had a great time. Poor Don had a farm helper who did not know how to drive anything with a clutch nor anything about working on a farm. The man had the patience of Job, and I liked him right away. I had a great summer event though I had to ride in humility behind a girl driving the tractors for the first few weeks until I learned a few things. We milked cows, fed pigs, fed feeder cattle, put up hay, picked rocks, pulled weeds, sprayed for weeds, and windrowed hay for silage to feed the dairy cattle. The summer flew by, and I adapted to the Neises family pretty well. I even was offered the same position for the next summer! I spent that summer up there as well, and a few times I had also gone up and worked for them after that. They are a great family, and I still have fond memories of those summers.

Some time before that junior year, I decided that I was now man of means and should have my own car. I mentioned this to dad one morning at our family breakfast, and he said he would look into it. That night at supper he announced that he had found a car for me that would fit my budget and work well for what I needed.  It was 1966 Nash Rambler with 99,000.00 miles on it for sale for $99.00. The deal was made and I had a car. Not too fancy, not too fast, and not up to my sleek and speedy image, but I had plans for that. I decided we needed to paint the car from its light tan to a new color. Dad said he could do that in his back garage, so all I needed to do was pick a paint color and prep the car. I selected a bright Ford blue for my ’66 Rambler, trying to stay as original as possible of course. We sanded and taped and prepped for a few days and nights, and she was ready to spray. Dad had a paint sprayer, so away we went, and the Rambler turned bright blue, just like that. I do not remember too much about any clear coating or any such other coatings, but the car was blue. We had prepped everything but I had not done anything to cover the tires so we could paint the rims. Dad said he would handle it, and I got blue rims with blue-wall tires in just a few minutes. The only thing that would have been cooler is if the tires had said “No Hunting” on them. I drove that blue tired car until I got through one year of college. We made many adventures together, I caught no small amount of crap about the blue tires and rims, but she got me where I had to go. Six cylinder, three on the tree transmission, and she was a beast. It would get hot in the summer time, and I would have to pull over to top off the radiator once in a while. Many a jack rabbit fell prey to my travels to Oldham and back and along country roads in the spring of that year. A box of 22 shells, and a pump remington 22 rifle and I laid to rest a lot of bunnies, gophers, and jack rabbits in those hunts. Of course, I never shot from the vehicle or from a public right of way. I was a rule follower. In my spare time on the farm, I shot bunnies along the shelter belt. One of my buddies had a farm along Beaver Lake, and we spent many an hour stalking and hunting around that area.

It was a great way to grow up in South Dakota, and I do treasure those years of care-free adventure. I still love to just drive through the country side and take in the beauty of South Dakota, both the prairie and the hills. I love a new lake or a small stream. I had many duck hunts jumping stock dams, shot a few geese, hunted lots of pheasants, and got to go on great deer hunts since I was eighteen. Fishing has always been fun, and I did a fair amount of that as well. Once we were married and had children, of course, priorities change, and I had to stop playing so much and raise a family.

God has Blessed me in many ways, and I think where I was born and my family and friends are some of those greatest blessings. I would not have traded it for the world. Make it a great week, and remember to thank God every day for His love for all of us!

January 10, 2013

 

I had an MRI of my brain completed yesterday, and today we met with Dr. Tolentino to go over those results. The original tumor site has shown some growth from about1.9 mm to about 3 mm. I don’t know much about mms, except the chocolate covered ones, but it appeared to my analytical mind that the tumor has increased in size by about one third in the last three months.

I have been experiencing some headaches and pressure over the past few weeks, so this is not a surprise to me. I think it is fairly normal for the progression of this disease. I have been on an infusion medicine that prevented the flow of blood to tumor sites, and that worked for about 6 months. Now we step up to a nastier chemo treatment that will kill all fast growing cells. The main side effects will be gastro-intestinal issues, hair loss, and fatigue. Sounds like a trip, doesn’t it? The good doctor thinks we can get another 6 months out of this treatment, depending on how I react to the chemo. If we opt to do nothing, in a few months the tumor would cause fatal issues.

I will knuckle under and have a port put in next week, then chemo treatments once every two weeks after that. This chemo now kind of withers my veins, I guess, so I decided I better get the port put in while I am still healthy enough to do it.

So, we are still right where we were – a day at a time – still feeling good today – and thanking God for the gifts He has given to all of us, and especially to me. We will continue down this path He has set for us, and be grateful for the many blessings He continues to bestow upon us. I am still feeling a lot better than many many people fighting this dreadful disease. The expectations as things progress will be neurological issues like loss of balance, memory issues, and perhaps a personality change. You would all get to know a new me, which may be refreshing at any rate!

I still plan to dance with Jennifer at her and Matt’s wedding in April, though I may step on her feet now and then. We will celebrate their marriage and the start of their new life together in style.

From there we will just take things as they come. I will be glad to correspond with all of you as I can, and will try to post occasionally. I have no sorrow over all of this, as I still see it as a gift from the Good Lord. I just opened an e-mail that spoke of the death of a fellow retired fire fighter. I do not know any circumstances, but his death is a surprise to me. I have the gift of fair warning.

I continue to thank God each day for all of your prayers and support, and I will go on living each day as the gift that it truly is. God Bless all of you, and take care. Watch for those red cardinals!

 

In one of my daily meditation booklets I found this little prayer:

 

Others may do a greater work,

But you have your part to do;

And no one in all God's family

Can do it as well as you.

December 29, 2012

Today we are still in the of Octave of Christmas. The Jewish faith celebrates all great feast days in a series of eight days, or octaves, and that tradition has carried over into the Catholic Church. Our secular world has us so wrapped up in the Christmas marketing whoopla of buying gifts, decorating everything, and spending our money so our spending stays high, which fuels our taxes, etc….. that by the time Christmas gets here, we can be “burned out” and tired of it all. By now some families are putting Christmas “away” because they have been looking at things since right after Halloween. We need to take in this precious time and season – relish the gift of God sending His Son to us as a human to walk with us and to talk with us. Celebrate the fact that the three wise men are still on their journey to see the Christ Child.

We had a great Christmas 2012. Our family all got to be with us for the celebrations, and a good time was had by all. I got my Christmas projects completed, and they turned out well. Kolbe even sent grandpa a short video riding his rocking horse and watching Toy Story with his cowboy hat on. He picked up some new cowboy boots yesterday, so he should be all set up.

I had prayed to God earlier this year that I could have one more good Christmas, and that I would not be sick over Christmas. I love this season, and I do not want to have everyone remember it as a sad time because of my poor health. God answered my prayers, and we had a good time.

I have been having some pressure headaches over the past month or so, especially when I lie prone at night. The doctor has me on a small dose of steroids once again, which will help to relieve that pressure and ease up the headaches. I am taking about one seventh of the dose I was last spring, so not such bad side effects yet, but I have taken to waking up after about 4 hours of sleep once again, so the keyboards may become more active. This may or may not be good for all of you.

Our brain is in a confined space with only enough room for what is supposed to be in there. With treatments of chemo to the tumor areas, there is some edema, which can cause a pressure build up. Over time these fluids will dissipate, if they have enough time. In the meanwhile, one gets a headache. The steroids reduce the swelling and relieve that pressure more quickly, so they help. I have not had to take as many pain pills as I did when they first started. I also have to be on a blood pressure medicine now, since one of the main side effects of Avastin is to increase one’s blood pressure.

Cancer is so different with everyone, I am learning, it mutates and fights the meds we are on, and most of the meds we take to fight it kill cells, so the treatments can be the killer and often are, but we also know what will happen without treatments. It kind of boils down to taking the treatments until they reduce the quality of one’s life to a point where they are no longer valid to use, then we let things run their course. The doctors do what they can with what they know, but this is a terrible disease. I especially do not like to see what many people have to suffer through in their treatments, so pray for all of those who are living with cancer now.

 We have Matt and Jen’s wedding to attend and to dance at in April, so I need to pray now for good health through at least that month. I think I will be just fine. I do not have the stamina I once had. I can do a few things, but then I need to rest for a few hours. Probably getting too old and not working out much anymore either. I will try to start to go for walks more now after the holidays.

After our MRI in January, we will see if we need to step up to the next level of chemo. That chemo will make me feel nauseated, hair loss, more weakness - all the good stuff. We can then perhaps lose those twenty pounds I put on when I got on steroids the last time. The doctors tell me to not worry about being on a diet, but to eat healthy foods that make one feel good. I think they mean healthy foods, not healthy portions, but I was always somewhat confused with that stuff.

For now, I wanted to let everyone know how things are going - going pretty well overall. I can still get around well, I still drive, no seizures, no loss of balance issues yet, have not had any weight loss, as one friend kindly pointed out to me, and I am trying to live each day as if it is a gift, which it is.

 You and your families enjoy this holiday season, as it is not over yet!

Impressions

I have had the idea to write about impressions for the past several days, so the Spirit must be moving me to try and impress upon me to share something with you. The thought of impressions came to me early one morning as I lie awake in bed, the side effect of a small steroid dose. I wake up, wide awake almost immediately, then have a hard time drifting back to sleep – so I lie there and dwell on things.

Last spring when I first got out of the hospital from the surgery, a good friend of ours stopped over to visit. She brought me a small Papal type crucifix that she had in her possession from when she had some serious illnesses earlier in her life. She told me it was special to her and she kept it under her pillow every night as she went through her medical ordeal. She is doing fine today, and was “paying it forward” when she gave me the crucifix. I have the crucifix next to my bed, and put it under my pillow as well, especially when I am having some headaches or trouble getting to sleep. You know how when you sleep hard on your pillow or sheets, your face has small red wrinkles impressed upon it when you first get up? I thought of that the other night. Perhaps the impression of Christ on that small crucifix is becoming impressed on my soul. I know I usually sleep better with the crucifix under my pillow.

That thought led to other thoughts about impressions. There are many sayings about impressions: You never get a second chance to make a good first impression - I was impressed - That was very impressive – etc…..

 We spend a lot of our lives trying to impress others with ourselves, our looks, or our ideas. Some of us go to great measures to impress certain people because that seems important to us at the time. Some people don’t impress me, and others do. Why is that? What kind of impression do each of us leave with other people? Do we act out of our normal self to try to impress something different than who, or what we really are just to make a good impression on someone? Is it worth not being true to yourself just to impress someone who must not be able to accept you for who you really are? We should ask ourselves these questions at times before we choose to do some of the things we do to make different impressions on others.

Who should we really try to impress, and what is impressed upon us and our souls? Do we put things into our hearts and minds that will leave good and lasting impressions?  Or do we take in bad shows, internet garbage, reality shows, clothing styles, life styles, relationships, etc. to make us look like someone who we are really not? Why do we try to impress certain people whom we think we can gain something from? Perhaps that is our human nature.

Do you give the impression to others that you are a child of God and living in His love? Do you smile at a stranger, say a kind word to someone, hold a door for someone, hold off on a hurtful thought about another, perhaps stop a gossip item from spreading, maybe do not forward a nasty text or e-mail, etc? These are all small opportunities for us to make a good Christian impression on others. Can someone tell by first meeting you that you are full of God’s love and abundance? We should think about that, and try to start to impress people with that. Sounds impressive, doesn’t it?

In this New Year, we should make it a resolution to be a more impressive Christian person. We each need to spend time working on being the best version of ourselves we can be. We should be all that God wants us to be, living in His abundant Joy! Seeking spiritual guidance will help us to make a good impression first on ourselves, and then on those we meet on a daily basis.

Let us ask ourselves. “If I were charged with being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict me?” What’s your impression?