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Cathy Howlett As I was saying, I have a better understanding of "playing through the pain" now that I've had to do the whole "get up, shower, exercise, eat, get dressed and drive to work with one arm in a sling for weeks" thing. On October 17th I stepped out of the shipping manager's office at work, and tripped over a board she had propped against her doorway to keep a field mouse out. I knew the board was there, just happened to forget its existence for a moment. The result was me crashing to the cement floor; I landed on my left knee and shoulder, fortunately missing knocks to my head, neck and back. As soon as I tried to sit up, I knew my arm was broken - the snapping sound was a give away - and I felt the blood running down my leg from my knee. Pretty gruesome experience! The foreman had to help me up; I declined his offer to call 911, and had one of the office girls drive me to the local urgent care facility in my car. Ashley is a good driver, and we arrived at Horseshoe Pond before the pain reached "excruciating". I phoned Johnny to come meet me there, and they were well into my intake when he arrived. A morphine drip took the edge off the pain; the nice doctor injected my knee with several shots of Lidocaine and sutured the cut with 16 stitches (I have a cute lopsided smiley face scar there now). They did x-rays of my arm and decided the shoulder was also involved; so I was sent home in a sling and a knee brace with instructions to see an orthopaedist the next day. For amusement, try getting in and out of the passenger side of the cab of a pickup truck with your left arm in a sling and your leg in a knee brace - not my most graceful moment, but I doubt if anyone else would do better. I was fortunate in that Dr Devanny, the surgeon who did both of my other operations, had an opening the next day, Wednesday; he was concerned about the bone chips floating in my shoulder joint, and ordered a cat scan for the next day, Thursday; those results were available Friday. He felt the arm break had a good chance of healing on its own, but damage to the shoulder joint would need surgical repair. When my humerus snapped, the head bounced around in the joint and cracked and chipped, and the little pieces needed to be put together. So he scheduled me for surgery on Monday afternoon; the good news was I didn't have to wear the knee brace any more, since the cut was already healing nicely. The repair went very well; he used a titanium plate and eight screws to reattach the the head to my humerus, then used staples, stiches and super glue to put the chips back in place. I stayed in the hospital overnight, and went home Tuesday, one week after the accident. I started physical therapy on Wednesday; saw my PCP on Friday to have the sutures removed from my knee; saw Dr. Devanny a week later for x-rays and to have the staples removed from the incision, and began the long process of restoring mobility to my arm and shoulder. I was so lucky to have Johnny around to do my dressing changes and to bring me to my doctors' appointments those first couple weeks, even though it got him in trouble at work (how dare he ask for time off to take care of his injured wife!). He also had to pick up the burden of my household chores, in addition to preparing nutritious, healthy meals for me until I could trust myself around the stove and on the stairs. The folks at work were terrific, too. One of our friends brought his little boy for a visit and delivered a huge basket of dried fruit and nuts and such, the kind of goodies I try to snack on at work instead of Fritos and Twinkies. The foreman's wife called every couple days to check on my progress and tell me funny stories to keep my spirits up, and the shipping manager dropped by a couple times to apologize again for the accident. She also dropped off payroll so I could sign the checks until we could arrange for it to go to Darlene, my boss in Florida, for signing. Darlene called and emailed almost every day to let me know how things were going at work and to say a prayer with me. She had to do some of my tasks long distance until I connived to have my sub from last year come back to cover for me as far as A/P and A/R were concerned. The other two office girls split some of my other duties, but Darlene had to handle personnel, payroll and the 401(k) due to the confidentiality issues involved. It was a good reminder for everyone as to my work load! About two weeks into my recovery, I agreed to participate in some teleconferences with the managers, and then it seemed like a good idea for Darlene to install a remote connection on my computer so I could keep an eye on the books from home (we were having some doubts as to the thoroughness of the work of one of the girls). Before I knew it, a month had passed and Dr Devanny said I could go back to work "as tolerated," with no lifting, reaching, or carrying. I did part time for a couple weeks, but that evolved into full time by mid-December. I had another recheck, and the doctor said everything looked really good, and I could consider doing four hour days for a few weeks. Oops! We had a good laugh over my interpretation of "as tolerated". At the end of December, one of the office girls quit, but that was OK because I still had Ashley (my hero driver) and Jamie (my well-trained sub) to do customer service, order entry, and filing. I was supposed to continue to pace myself for a while, but the shipping manager and her senior assistant quit in February, so Ashley was moved into her position with the understanding I would handle the billing until Darlene felt comfortable with Ashley's level of training. So Jamie took up Ashley's customer service tasks, and I took back the clerical tasks I had farmed out to her last year, and as happens at Prototek, once again my cup runneth over. Funny how these things work out. The guys in the shop continue to marvel at my progress (they all seem to know someone who broke a shoulder during a football game or bar fight) and everyone continues to express their appreciation for all I do to keep the business humming. That takes the edge off the little pain I feel from time to time when I move one way and my shoulder doesn't follow. I'll show you my scars when you come up this summer - they become less impressive as time goes by. May 25 Everyone, from the owners to the guy who fills the snack machines, has been tremendously supportive all along, allowing me (actually, encouraging me) to work at my own pace and pass tasks along on the rough days. The guys on the floor still ask regularly if I need files moved or any heavy lifting done, and one of the new engineers, who came on board when I was well into my recovery, comes down to my office and vacuums it for me. Late last month, within a week of each other, one of our drivers slipped at home and broke a rib; the plant manager's wife tripped off a couple steps at home and broke her right leg in three places, along with spraining her left ankle; and the machine shop manager lost his footing on a ladder and broke his left heel and ankle when he landed. Nothing breeds sympathy like sharing a medical experience! We wish you an enjoyable holiday weekend. I think Johnny is hoping to get the raised beds turned over and composted, and some planting done. The lilacs are just starting to go by, but the strawberries are beginning to set fruit - Tommy is watching them, and the raspberry bushes, carefully, as he remembers sharing them last year. I'm being harassed by a couple mosquitoes, so I have to close and find the fly swatter. Between the threats of West Nile virus and EEE, none of those nasties are safe this year. Have a safe trip to Wales, Nan, and bring lots of stories and photographs with you to share on the 7th. |
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Gene Murdock June 18, 2007 My first assignment in the Air Force in 1951 was at the Air Force Weather Central on Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland. Not long after I got there I was told to fill out a long, multi-page form used to check my background to see if I had a clean enough record to hold a security clearance. After about six months word came back that I was a solid citizen, and I was immediately transferred down the hall to a locked room behind a green door. This was Special Projects Division, or SPD. We were told not to talk about what went on in there to anyone at anytime. We observed this to the point that even when referring to SPD we told curious people that it meant Submarine Painting Division. The green door had a buzzer beside it and a peephole about five feet high. You rang the buzzer and then stood directly in front of the peephole. The person inside had to recognize you, or check your picture posted inside the door. We had one short colonel that visited occasionally, and one short weather man inside. When the two of them interacted at the door it was hilarious as each jumped up and down to see and be seen. The SPD gathered weather information from countries that tried to withhold such information. They sent out their weather messages in code, and we were able to break the code and integrate the data into our own weather data base. The code breaking machine was right in the SPD and I was fascinated by it. Many years later I saw it on TV, immediately recognized it, and learned that it was a copy of the Enigma Code Machine that the Germans used in World War II. Anyway, here I was reading classified information from a foreign country. I was engaged in espionage – I was a spy! I have never been officially released from my vow of secrecy, but after hearing Generals and Senators talking about these things on TV, I feel I can pass these stories on to you. We took the classified data and plotted it on maps for the forecasters to analyze. We kept a list of the stations that transmitted the information, and occasionally spotted a new one for which we had to figure its location. When it sent out its Rawinsonde data, information from a huge rising balloon, we were able to read the initial surface data, determine from that its elevation, and then with the pressure and wind data, fit it into the analysis pattern and pass on the information of its apparent location to other intelligence sources. The previous boss of the outfit was a zealous advocate of our job and built up a huge library of classified and unclassified books and reports to help us with the job. On the late night shifts with nothing much to do, that made for some fascinating reading! We also had a 45 caliber pistol mounted near the door in case of emergency. One particular Major loved to strap on that pistol and strut around when we went on burn details. All of our paperwork – maps, weather data, written material– had to be put in special bags and taken over to a huge incinerator to be disposed of. The burn bags were piled on a dolly and wheeled over to the incinerator. They were large bags and there were plenty of them, so we would form a line and hand the bags down the line rapidly to the last person, who threw them deep into the flaming oven. We loved to get a new guy on the end spot and after a few routine but fast and furious bags, hand him his hat instead of a bag and watch him panic as he almost tossed it into the fire. Spy work could be fun! In the next issue I get transferred to Germany and continue my clandestine activities. |
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Valerie Davidson May 18: I wish you well with the knee recovery. I'm guessing that good fortune at this point could avoid a lot more in the future, so BE A GOOD GIRL! Take care of that knee! Rest! Live the couch potato life for a while - others endorse it and find it very fulfilling, so you never know....! (Who am I kidding?!?) That having been said, thanks very much for the photo. I had sort of forgotten about that painting, but now I can put it in my private gallery. [Ed. Note: About 20 years ago, Valerie gave us a very well-done watercolor and ink painting of the traffic below her window on a very cold morning in MN. We decided she should at least have a photo of it!] I don't think I shared my "caricature" self-portrait yet, which I've attached. This is my desktop image on both home and school computers. Several students have referred to it as "a Picasso" (in jest, of course). I have changed my hairstyle to a more stylish one, with blonde highlights (which has put an end to the handfuls of hair falling out due to coloring every four weeks). My point is that this "portrait" parodies my new hairstyle somewhat. I will try to get a photo of my new look to you soon - I also have new, more stylish glasses. Anyway, here it is, for your viewing enjoyment. We're winding down to our final five weeks (with the year-round schedule, it's been fabulous until now, when we pay for that fabulousness with the later finish in June). I'm finding myself taking medication for blood pressure again, just to get to the end. Then I can do my own version of mandatory relaxation. Oops - that sounds like someone who works overly hard and makes excuses... May 13: I made several thwarted attempts to call on Mother's Day, so will now resort to best wishes via email... Mom, I hope you had a wonderful, feted day and that your weather was lovely as well. As the family matriarch, you no doubt had a day filled with well-wishes from all and sundry, even from outside the immediate clan. Yeah -- that sounds about right! I look forward to more communication and catching up in the near future. Your visit last year has left a lasting sense of camaraderie. Incidentally, my goldfish sends his best wishes. |
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Nancy Murdock When I learned that 8 of our Japanese friends from our sister parish, Tokyo All Saints, would be joining the tour to Wales, I decided it would be a great chance to see them. Even Michiko Kurosu, my hostess from my 1990 trip, would be coming, and this would be my best chance ever to see her again. Jean Ogawa, our longtime friend, was also coming, along with their priest, Shigeko Yamano, a lovely lady I had seen only once more since 1990, when she was the first female candidate for holy orders in their diocese. This was just too good a chance to pass up! Our friend and fellow Scrabble enthusiast, Colleen McKay, also went with the tour (although she flew on Delta, where she is something like a platinum flyer), and she and I were roommates for the whole trip. Colleen is a great shopper and traveler, so she even found us some “pound shops,” where the price for each item was a pound (which cost $2.25 toward the end of our trip, since the dollar is losing ground fast). We even found a raincoat for me on a day when it was pouring, as I hadn’t located a hooded jacket in MD to ward off rain. It rained every day in Wales, the most rain in June since they began to keep records many years ago. June 19: The trip was really quite enjoyable, in spite of the length. The Boeing 76 was really roomy by the feet, and by special request I had an aisle seat where my left leg could stretch out. The plane had a good food tray and comfortable reclining seats. We had several choices for entertainment. I picked a Harry Potter movie (my first). Unfortunately, the feature didn’t work well, and I couldn’t get the sound to stay on. In the AM, I discovered that all that remained of the headset was the small piece that plugged in. So the mystery was solved. But after that I just stuck to reading the Harlequin romance novels I had brought along. June 20: We were met at Heathrow by Colleen and our Japanese friends. It was so good to see them! After hugs and greetings, we got on our tour bus and drove to a cute bed and breakfast, Hatherley Manor in Down Hatherley, Gloucester, England. We stopped for lunch in Cricklade after a tour through the beautiful green meadows and wildflowers of the Cotswalds. At a nearby pub, I ordered a Ploughman’s Lunch, which was very different from the two I recalled when Bob and I toured England and Scotland in the 90s. This one was a huge plateful of fresh vegetables, two large pickled onions, Stilton cheese, and a 7" loaf of French bread, with the chutney in a small side dish. I couldn’t begin to make a dent in this meal, and I really would have preferred the cheese and chutney in a roll, which I had enjoyed so much on our earlier trip. Colleen and I got to the door where we thought we were supposed to meet, about 10 minutes before what we thought was the leaving time. When no one else appeared, we asked the front desk if we were standing in the wrong spot. She said the bus had left a half-hour ago. So we missed out on the Gloucester Cathedral in the evening. We were a little surprised that none of our friends had called to ask if we had changed our minds and decided not to go. When they returned in the evening, Fr. Chris called to let us know that the time to leave on the following morning had been changed to an earlier departure. We both wrote it down, and we had no problem after that, although I did find that I would wake in the night and worry about what time we needed to be ready. June 21: We visited the Welsh Folk Museum at St. Fagon’s. I was charmed by the red farmhouse, and a yellow-tan farmhouse with a great thatched roof. I am looking forward to my photos. Colleen found a wheelchair and pushed me all over the place. We got caught in the rain, which turned out to be a harbinger of the whole trip. It rained every day, in varying amounts. In the late afternoon we had a great tour of Llandaff Cathedral (The Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul). It is a fascinating place, and our guide, Jeff, was wonderful. Bombed during WWII, the cathedral was later restored. Jeff explained all of the sections of the cathedral, and the people who designed and built it. It has been re-done at various times, using parts from the past in significant ways. It was exciting to learn about the various styles of the architects and artists. We were treated to Evensong with very nice male voices, including a really great counter-tenor, whose singing reminded me of our son Roy in his youth. We checked into Jurys Hotel in Cardiff for two nights. It was across the street from a building prominently labeled “CIA,” which to my American eyes was a jolt. However, the residents are very proud of Cardiff International Arena, which was due to host a major international sporting event soon. June 22: We began the day with a tour of Cardiff Castle, led by Jeff! He is a busy man during his “retirement.” This is not truly a castle, as it was not built to defend the area. A wealthy man with a taste for expensive art had it built and decorated over a fairly long period of time. There is a lot of gilt, and it takes a good while to examine every facet of this fascinating place. I managed to get up the lower steps to the main floor, but I forbore to try the next level, which was noted as having something like 100 steps. A bloodcurdling scream began the visit. I thought it was a sound effect to get us in the mood for a scary place. However, it was one of the peacocks descended from the ones the original owner had brought to his home grounds. They had rather scraggly tails, but they appeared to think very highly of themselves. Colleen and some of the others climbed the clock tower, a separate building on a rise, while I sat and enjoyed the grounds. Some darling Welsh children struck up a conversation with me. They asked if I was afraid to live in “America” because of the crimes. After seeing the Welsh morning news on TV in the following days, I figured that living in Wales would not make me less concerned about crime. The children also answered my questions about their school, etc. It was a nice chance to meet some of the younger generation in a different country. We had an interesting time finding our way back to the hotel. Colleen was familiar with bus route markings, but we still had to consult several people before we finally got settled on how to get back to the hotel. It would have been a quick walk for Colleen, but I had already been on the move enough to annoy my left knee. So we took a very roundabout route by bus. We had delayed enough that the rain caught up with us - big time! We were squishing by the time we got to our room. Colleen then put on her raincoat and went out shopping. She has a knack for finding inexpensive necessities and goodies, including first-rate chocolate. June 23: We toured the Rhondda Valley, featured in the great old movie “How Green Was My Valley.” Coal mining used to be the main way to make a living there. We had an excellent guide, with over 49 years of experience in mining and guiding visitors. He outfitted with helmets and lights all of the brave visitors who were interested in going down that scary elevator into the mine itself. Being claustrophobic, I remained above-ground, perusing the bookstore and art for sale, then sitting out in the sunshine, overlooking a fine view of green hills - with no rain! The statistics about mining accidents and deaths were terrible. But even so, the closing of the mines, accompanied by an edict not to open any other industries in that area, made life very difficult for the residents who knew no other life. The plan was to have them all move to other parts of the U.K. where jobs were available. The lack of money was a serious problem, but gradually they built up a community where they could actually own the company houses they had lived in so long. In the afternoon we arrived in Mumbles, where we browsed in a Welsh gift shop. I recognized one of the women as one who had come for Fr. Chris’s installation as rector. In fact, we recognized each other at the same moment! I was able to buy Bob some coasters, etc. But I also bought a Christmas gift for my younger daughter, which I then had to tote everywhere in my carry-on bag. Luggage juggling is an art when you travel around to a different place every one or two nights. June 24: We had a very joyous service at St. Teilo’s Church, named for one of the three earliest Welsh Christian martyrs. Some of our readings and prayers were in three languages: English, Welsh, and Japanese. It was a major moment to be thankful for. The rector of St. Teilo’s has three parishes. The two smaller ones alternate services at a little after noon and Evening Prayer. We attended Evensong at Hilston. The music was lovely, although it was hard to sing correctly, as the hymnal contained only the worlds, no music. We were fortunate on Sunday to be undercover the few times it rained. We went to a banquet for lunch and then drove to Swansea Bay and another beautiful spot, with sheep nearby. We all took photos. We also took a full group photo after the luncheon. One kind man accepted lots of cameras to take a photo of us all on each one. June 25: [I wrote the following comments in my little book. We were scheduled for a trip to Kidwelly Castle in Tenby.] I’m on the bus, parked in a lot, while most of the others are walking to a castle - in the rain. As I listen to the pitterpat on the windows, I’m very glad to be inside. Colleen, not surprisingly, is with the explorers. It rains a lot in Wales. I know Fr. Chris misses Wales and looks forward eagerly to retiring there, but I will be better pleased to see more dry weather when we reach Baltimore. June 26: We had only a little rain in the morning, much better than the downpours on Monday. We bussed up to take a narrow gauge railway ride. Fr. Chris said that most of the workers on the line were volunteers, which is how the line manages to stay operational. We saw lots of pretty scenery: green fields with recently-shorn sheep; bright green fields divided by dark green hedgerows; and the edge of the waters - curling waves at the edge of the Irish Sea. Some of the group, including Jean Ogawa and Michiko Kurosu, rode back in the open car at the rear of the train. It was quite cold, but Don Hooper reported that the seats were actually more comfortable than those inside. It was cold enough that I wore my plastic raincoat from the Pound Shop. The coat was enough to block the cold wind, especially from my head and chest. It seemed prudent for someone who was just finishing off the antibiotics from a bout with bronchitis. I found that looking at the beautiful waves, etc., without my glasses gave it a Monet style. Too bad I couldn’t get a photo of that view! We poked around in town for about an hour after we finished the train trip and bussed back. Then we headed for St. David’s Cathedral for 6:00 Evensong. Later we were divided into two groups to go to either Tara Hotel or Seaview Hotel. The nearby restaurant was not prepared for us, but they remained open and listed what they had available: four chicken dinners, two vegetable lasagne, two “barbecued” lasagne, etc. There was some confusion over the prices, but eventually they straightened that out, and my lasagne was tasty and filling. The room Colleen and I got was the best of all. We were to get one of two on the “first” floor (really the second floor, but U.K. has different ideas about floors) because of my knee problems. The owner said they had rooms 6 and 5, and which did we want, sight unseen. I chose 6, which turned out to be their finest room. Everything in the room had artsy-craftsy touches. The bedspread was a quilt with embroidered floral blocks, the tissue box was topped with a beautiful cover made from two lovely hankies, and the wastebasket was clad in a gathered pink floral skirt with a lace-edged cover on top. The windows had a view of the beach. There was a double bed and a set of bunk beds, and the bathroom was spacious. The next day we heard grumbling about the tiny rooms and beds in other rooms. June 27: [Here is what I wrote in my little book.] This is our last day of touring. Tomorrow early we’ll be going back home to the U.S./Japan. It’s been great - especially with such a combination of travelers. I’m really glad to have visited with Jean Ogawa, Michiko Kurosu, and Shigeko Yamano. I also had a chance to get acquainted with Rei Yamano, Shigeko’s daughter. Rei got sick early on, so the Yamanos stayed for a few days with friends of the Lees. Today we spent most of the day enroute. But fortunately, we arrived at the cathedral in time for a Eucharist with Third Order Franciscans. For once I actually got to say the Lord’s Prayer in the modern version! I miss being able to do this regularly. The Franciscan service had some particularly good phrases. I think we had about 40 people at the Eucharist. Now I’m at the Ibis Hotel, and Colleen is off on one of her energetic explorations.... At 7:00 PM, we all met for dinner at the Ibis. The hotel had to leave big glass doors open to the terrace, which meant that freezing cold wind was blowing in. I was last to arrive, so I got the full brunt of the wind and realized I really couldn’t sit there. Christina suggested I ask if anyone at the warmer end would be willing to change places with me. Bless his heart, Allen, the bus driver par excellence, immediately offered me his seat. Here I need to insert another story about Allen. He drove a very long bus through very narrow, winding streets, without EVER brushing against anything. One day, however, he ran into a problem in trying to pick us up after our tour of one town. A car was parked at the curb with one wheel at an angle that made it impossible to get past it. Allen, true to form, did NOT attempt to brush past it. He and several other men worked on finding a way to move out of the street without causing any damage. Several of us suggested (but not within hearing distance) that a group of men should pick up that little car and plunk it down right up against the curb, or maybe on the sidewalk, temporarily. Eventually, however, some magic must have happened, or perhaps the car on the opposite side of the street was moved closer to the curb by its owner, and the bus came through unscratched. I have never been more impressed by anyone’s driving! June 28: Morning came early - 5:00 AM. We needed to go to breakfast at 6:30 and be on the bus at 7:30. Our flight was to be loaded by 12:35 and leaving (lift-off) at 12:55. All went well through getting off the bus. We hugged all the Japanese and wished them a safe trip. They were going to Gatwick for their flight. One nice couple would be staying through the weekend to shop in London. Colleen (carrying her two bags and pulling mine) went into the airport, where she asked a British Airways man where I could get a wheelchair. He directed us to line D93, which had one group of 5 or 6 young women, who were traveling to Australia. Colleen had to go catch her Delta flight, so we said goodbye and agreed to catch up in Baltimore tomorrow or Monday. It took longer than I’d guessed, but eventually it was my turn. I showed my passport and requested a wheelchair. They checked me in and told me to wait around the corner for a wheelchair attendant. She took me to the Serenity Lounge, where I read happily in my suspense novel. After a while, seven of us were taken, one or two at a time, to a cold room where arriving passengers got off buses. After 12:10, I began to be concerned about the time but was told not to worry - I’d be picked up in a truck that lifted us up so we wouldn’t have to walk up 25 steps. As time marched on, some of the others began to get loudly concerned, and one became hysterical. They were demanding to get a refund, another ticket, and some food. I tried to soothe the waters, especially for the diabetic woman. At about 1:45 or so, a manager and an assistant arrived. This didn’t inspire faith in the system for everyone, and the demands continued. The young manager, after getting a take on the concerns, got cups of cold water for everyone. He called the truck people and assured us that the truck was on its way. The driver had gone to lunch. What had ticked people off was having seen that truck come by three times, with only one passenger (for Chicago) getting a ride the second time it showed up (and no one getting on the other two times). They felt we should have been allowed to get on the truck. The manager by then had gotten hold of the situation and was kind of fun to observe. It took about 15 or 20 minutes before the truck came, and the hysterical ones were not willing to believe it was going to get better. But finally the truck did show up. The manager picked up my carry-on bag and told me he would stand beside me on the truck. Another man assisted the final person in, squeezed over to the door, jabbed two fingers at the calm man, and said very forcefully, “YOU - STAY!” Then he got out and locked us in. As promised, the plane was still waiting for us. We got off the ground 1 1/4 hours after the expected departure time. There was some clapping by the trapped passengers who had been twiddling their thumbs as they waited to start the flight. The food, which came piping hot, was very good. My vegetarian lunch had Asparagus Risotto with Cherry Tomatoes, a nice fresh salad of lots of vegetables, a roll, margarine, and strawberry shortcake. I ate every bite except the roll and margarine. July 4: Several friends have asked me if I enjoyed the trip. The answer is YES, definitely! We were together for so many hours at a stretch that we were all comfortable with each other, whether we were discussing the fate of the planet or leaning back in our seats, half asleep. Our Japanese friends carried various Japanese candies and other snacks, which they brought around to share with all of us. One of these was a little pouch of green jelled non-sweet candy, very different from anything I had ever seen previously. Jean sent Bob a small bag of little, round, slightly sweetened rice crackers. It’s interesting to get a peek into the treats our friends in Japan enjoy. We met some new friends from Japan, too. I made sure to sit with the Japanese contingent whenever possible. They are such nice people! And now I have updated mental images of them to think of when we pray for our sister parish, All Saints Tokyo. Jean was also a great translator. As soon as someone began to announce something, she would move over to stand near people who were less fluent in English. I was very impressed with how quickly she noticed the need. It was heartwarming to see that Rev. Yamano was included in several church services. Our hosts were very inclusive. I got the impression that the current priest of St. Tielo’s Church was thrilled to have the Gospel read in Japanese in that church for the first time ever. Michiko didn’t look any different from how I remembered her from staying at her home in Tokyo in 1990. We got a kick out of finding out that both of us, at age 75, are still working full-time at our same jobs. She is the headmaster of her church’s kindergarten, which I find much more impressive than my being able to continue to write policy and procedures for international direct deposit of Social Security payments. One evening we were treated to singing by some members of a Welsh male choir, which was wonderful. We also had one of the best fancy cakes I’ve ever tasted. Of course, the reason was that it contained a lot of chocolate, including chocolate bars standing around the whole outside edge of the cake. I have a lot of memories of beautiful scenery, especially the green, green countryside. It was interesting to see how the different hotels and B&B’s operated. Most places had good breakfasts, with some items ready to pick up and go, and some waiting to be ordered before being cooked. At one of our early stops, Colleen and I got to breakfast five minutes early and couldn’t get in the door of the main building! It was raining quite significantly. We had already threaded our way down the sloping driveway, and I was not eager to maneuver through that trek on crutches an extra time. I noticed some of the upstairs windows were open, so I hollered up to let us in, if they could. In a minute or two, one of our fellow travelers was opening the door, puzzled as to why we hadn’t opened it ourselves. The locals were all nice to us as we shopped around the towns or enjoyed the museums. There seemed to be no hint of “ugly American” sentiment. It is not likely that I will ever again do a trip like this, which makes me very glad I dared to do this one. It was a whole different world from the trip Bob and I made to England and Scotland in May 1992. I took out the account of that trip to read today and found that it was really not at all the same as a group tour. We were both fortunate to be able to take that 1992 trip, and I was fortunate to take this one. And when I returned, I was very pleased to have Bob tell me in heartfelt tones that he had really missed me! |
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