A Milestone Birthday

(This was written July 6th. I'm just now getting around to finishing it.) Today is Randy's 60th birthday...a milestone in that he has never been 60 before. I'm sure it will be a turning point as all these 0-ending birthdays seem to be. We started the celebration off by attending a wedding up near Hershey, PA, our old stomping grounds, and when I say old, I mean right after we were married almost 36 years ago. That is where Randy had his first long-term adult job as ass't mgr. of foods at Hershey Park. I got my teaching degree from Elizabethtown College and taught 3rd grade down in the bomb shelter of Londonderry Elementary School overlooking the cooling towers of Three Mile Island. We made good friends while there and it was bittersweet seeing our children that were not yet born during that time, all grown up with one of them getting married.

We stayed at a bed and breakfast and it was just beautiful with the horses neighing over the fences and the different delicious breakfast aromas wafting up to our rooms every day. I will get you the name of the place so you can stop and spend a little time with Frank and Caroline when passing through. Wyndom something I think.

Anyway, I failed to mention the kids flew up and off we went. We got home, spent one night and drove them back down to FL to start the next leg of celebrating. Randy and I love traveling via car. The kids do not unless it is in their neck of the woods, but we all did great. We made it down to Orlando safely, stayed 2 nights, then went down to Ft. Lauderdale, where Connie started off the festivities with a manicure for all of us. She fixed us a yummy Snapper Francaise and the next day we did a little prep work for their upcoming kitchen make-over, then we went to Morton's for a delicious dinner, after going to the beach the evening before and the next morning. It was just divine. No one entertains like Aunt Connie and Uncle Larry do.

We had to be back up to Orlando by 2 the next day so we could prepare for a little surprise cook-out for Randy. We invited old friends and old neighbors who have blessed us along the way with their friendship and time. I have to say, I thought Leah had gotten stuck with the brunt of the whole thing until it came time for Matthew to get Randy out of the house for a few hours. It was grueling, but we pulled it off without a hitch until I told Randy we were going to take the grill down to the clubhouse and grill some hamburgers to celebrate with the kids. He said he didn't want to, then I told him we wanted him to feel special on his special day. He smiled and said, "I want to cook out here. When you're 60 we can cook out at the clubhouse." I almost laughed out loud. It had never crossed my mind that he would be so adamant about where we cooked out. I finally told him that I had all the food already at the clubhouse for our "little impromptu cookout with just our family and David," Matthew's friend and their roommate. We led him to believe that Connie was upstairs taking a nap, while in reality she was already at the clubhouse welcoming people. We all trooped up the street to retrieve the food and walked in and SURPRISE! He really was surprised and it made it all worth it. We're all still marveling at how wonderful it was to surprise him, as he asks for nothing in return for all he gives.

May all your birthdays be HAPPY BIRTHDAYS!

The Bird Saga Continues

I failed to mention that about a month prior to all of this, there were nests built up in the gutters above the garage. We weren't aware of them until a gust of wind blew 2 of the babies out of their nests and they came tumbling down toward the garage door, which so happened to be open at the time. One went scurrying in and the other one went in the opposite direction. Needless to say, poor old Randy was stuck with making sure that bird was out of the garage before either of us started our cars. What we didn't realize in all the gusting of birds, was that 2 more were in the garage, which we found the next day. One was behind the plantation shutter and the other had met its demise, I'm unhappy to say. Randy made sure the surviving one was put out safely in the bushes so mom and dad could see it and he "took care of the other one." (So help me if anyone ever excavates this yard they are going to be amazed at the bird bones they find.) The next thing you know we found a Mom or Dad bird in our recycling bin...dead of course. I am starting to take this personally.

Back to more recent bird happenings...I went out yesterday morning to do my daily AM perusal of the garden and there were bird feathers all over the place. Moulting has begun it appears. I don't know how else to account for the many feathers scattered everywhere. Will keep you posted on that one, but before I ventured down to the pond, I saw something that appeared to be an armadillo floating on the water. Randy came out and agreed that's how it looked to him too, so we got our trusty binoculars out just to make sure. We still couldn't discern what it was until Randy finally decided to take the trek down to see for himself. "It's a dead goose," he shouts up to me. The next thing I'm wondering is if it's the old gray goose, and then the ending to a childhood song that I hadn't sung in years came to mind..."the old gray goose is dead." It wasn't though...yes, the goose was dead, but it wasn't the old gray one, because about 20 minutes later the word must have gotten out because they had all formed what appeared to be a funeral procession down to the far end of the pond where no one wants to go because EVERYTHING finds a resting place down there. At this point, I have not seen the goose's mate, but I am sure I will as our yard is where they come to mourn. I have determined that is not a bad thing necessarily, because in the realm of goosedom, they seem to be quite respectful of a fellow goose's mourning period. So you see, we provide land for one goose as opposed to MANY geese and there is less goose excrement as a result. (I try to look for the good in every situation.) I will start counting geese again. We should be down to 22 now. My little gardening buddy, Olivia, asked me where all the other geese died in the course of their lives. I didn't want to tell her about goose hunting season, so I just said, "Whenever their time comes, that's where they drop." She seemed satisfied with that so I just left it alone. I really do think it's a parent's job to discuss death and religion with their children.

P.S. There are 22 geese now...an even number. Maybe the one left from last year's catastrophe died of a broken heart and now all is even again. I would hate to think a new family had been touched by sorrow, because we all know...their cardinal rule is that they do not mate again after a mate dies. They've got my attention once again. I will keep you posted. In the meantime, just enjoy the chirping of the birds and pray that they will enjoy long lives and happiness.

Fowl Language

Nope...not so. I went to water the other baskets and the mom and dad were no longer hiding in the elm tree; they were screaming to the kids to lay low. So help me, I should have stopped watering and cleaning the baskets right then, but I just figured they were being territorial since I do not understand fowl language and never have. I went to the next basket, then the next and before you know it, I've got baby birds fluttering all over the place. I could have kicked myself. SURELY I had waited long enough if the doves were already gone.

To make matters worse, I went down to turn off the water, and there's a baby bird struggling. I felt so horrible I went to put on gloves to put it back in the basket and came back and it was too late. I felt really bad then. But, with just a little walk in the back yard a few hours later, I had a chance to redeem myself. I found a little bird that had fallen out of its nest below one of the big trees, so I gave it a little water and determined that if it survived the night, I would take care of it. It did and I did. I had Randy pick it up and put it in a little bird's nest left over from the year before, then I went and dug up some worms and told him he had to chew on the worms and regurgitate them into the baby's mouth to feed it, so it would think it was its dad. Needless to say, he didn't do that, but he did chop the worm into small pieces and feed it with the tip of a straw. That bird was not in the least bit afraid of us. It was missing its tail feathers, but didn't seem the worse for wear. In fact, it was a spunky little thing and seemed very demanding.

I Googled, "What do baby birds eat that fall out of nests?" and got a quick fix that I liked. The writer said that some birds are pushed out of their nests because they are too weak. I looked again at that spunk, and said that couldn't be this case, but then looked at the bird and saw all those feathers missing, so wasn't sure. The article went on to say that I should put holes in a Cool Whip tub, line it with paper towels, then put a little straw or a nest inside it, then place the bird in the tub and place it as high as we could back in the tree it fell from, and that sometimes the mother and father will alternate between nests. That sounded so good to me, but we decided not to do that until the next day, Sunday. In the meantime, I was hunting worms every spare minute, because those little birds eat all the time when they are that small.

We got home from a movie and the little bird was out on the back patio. Mollie got to her before we did and scared the you-know-what out of her...us too. We got her safely back in her nest, put a little fence cover over her after feeding her one last time before bedtime, then came in for the evening. THEN came this horrible storm around midnight...I'm not kidding, I think it was the worst night storm we have ever had up here. (Of course Randy didn't hear it. I guess he was so exhausted from being "Big Bird" that day.) Anyway, he got up the next day and said the baby hadn't made it through the night. It sure didn't die from hunger, but I'll bet it was scared to death from the storm with no mom to comfort it.

After that, I told the Lord that I guessed we were even. I'd tried to take care of that little bird and had even planned on teaching it to come when called. I had no sooner finished my little prayer, when I felt compelled to walk back to where I'd found the bird in the first place, and lo and behold, there was its brother/sister. I looked heavenward and said, "Why me, Lord? Why me?" I turned away and said, "Lord, this one's yours." In His grace and love, He sent my little neighbor, Olivia the animal lover, over to find that bird. I figured she'd feed it a few worms and that would be that, but no...I guess she needed to find out for herself about "survival of the fittest."

I went to bed with a clear conscience and got up the next morning and went to look at my garden, when I heard Olivia running over from next door. "Mrs. McCann, I've got good news!" I was ready for some good news after the bird mortality rate had just gone up by leaps and bounds due to ME, so I said, "I can't wait to hear. WHAT?" I took that baby bird home last night and put it in a cage and it survived the night!" I looked at her incredulously and said, "You did?" I have to admit that I was a little relieved to know she was now responsible for the bird, and not me. "Yes," she replied, "and my mom told me to bring it back this morning." I looked at her through twitching eyes (That happens when I get unduly stressed.) and asked, "Is it there now?" "Uh huh," she replied with joy. I didn't even hesitate. I told her that this bird was on its own. I had tried to help the other one and it had died. I recounted what I'd read about the mom kicking the weak ones out. I reminded her about the survival of the fittest, because every kid in the world has seen the "Lion King" and knows all about the food chain, and then I told her I was leaving this one for God to take care of. She looked at me and said, "Well, I think it's always best to at least try." I figured that is what she had done, but I walked over to the garden and cast a quick glance through the flowers and didn't see any sign of the baby bird. I've stopped looking, because I don't want to see it. I have painted this beautiful picture in my head, that because this bird appeared to be stronger and had its tail feathers in tact, that it has what it takes to survive. That's my story and I'm sticking to it...but...there's more. Stay tuned.

It's official. We are "bird grandparents." Every basket hanging on our porch contains a nest of some kind of bird. We go through this every year, with last year being the absolute most stressful spring of my life. I don't mind them building their nests in our hanging baskets on the porch...in fact we love peering at them through the slats in our plantation shutters, BUT they got a little invasive last year and went and built nests in all of our air vents for our bathroom fans. Needless to say, I was gritting my teeth the first time I turned on our bathroom fan over the shower to take out steam and heard who knows what being ground by the fan blades. I quickly shut it off and then yelled for Randy. It was shortly thereafter that we started hearing movement above our heads, like birds, lots of birds, moving around. I told Randy we'd give them this year, then no more nests in our vents.

So, Randy, and our brother in law, Larry (who always gets the crummy jobs, but smiles through them all) took his long arms and pulled all the straw out of our vents. To keep them from coming back this year, we balled up chicken wire and placed them at each entrance. Sure enough, those little creatures of habit came back and they pecked for weeks trying to get back in to those vents. It can be very unnerving, especially if you saw Alfred Hitchcock's, "The Birds" when you were a child, like I did. (I can't believe some of the stuff our parents took us to see at the drive-in movies back in those days!)

Mourning doves seem to have squatting rights in the first basket near our window. They have an exceptionally long fledgling period in my opinion. They appear to be teenagers before they fly the coup (nest in this case.) It was quite interesting this year, watching how Mom and Dad would probably be hiding behind leaves in the nearby elm tree watching the kids as they tried to wean themselves away from them. It reminded me of Leah when she was 4, wanting to exercise a little independence, telling me she wanted to go outside by herself. I complied and would shut the door telling her not to go near the street and she'd readily reply, "I am't." Then I'd glue myself to the wall, and peek from behind the curtain until she was safely back in the house, asking her to recount her big adventure alone. She was just happy as a little lark.

The baby doves were no different. They'd perch themselves on the very edge of the basket and you could just imagine one of them saying to the other, "Look at me!" Then they'd flutter their wings in pride at their accomplishment. We knew it was getting closer to "TIME" when Mom and Dad stayed away for a whole day and didn't return until dinnertime. They were all gone within two days.

I decided it was time to pinch off dead geranium flowers finally. Randy had already installed a drip mist system so we wouldn't have to disturb them and could ensure our flowers stay watered, plus we read recently that watering them doesn't hurt them, so we'd spray from a distance, a fine mist. I figured if those doves took that long to mature, surely all the other nests would be empty by now. Not so. To be continued...

Not just the "Captain of the Neighborhood Watch"

Maurice Duke Ferrara was born June 15, 1914 in New York. He served on various ships of the United Stats Navy. He was Commander the USS Gar (SS-206), the USS Tambor (SS-198), The USS Finback (SS-30) and Commanded the USS Gearing (DD-710) from July 25, 1951 to February 4, 1953. He then became Commander of the Naval Station & FTC San Diego California. He was awarded the Legion of Merit, a Bronze Star Medal and the Navy Commendation Medal. He retired in 1962. Maurice Ferrara died December 31, 1987 in San Diego, California.

OBITUARY: The San Diego Tribune, January, 1, 1988 - A mass for retired Navy Capt. Maurice Ferrara, 73 of Loma Portal, will be said at 1 p.m. tomorrow in St. Charles Borromeo Roman Catholic Church. Burial will be in Holy Cross Cemetery. Goodbody Mortuary is in charge. He died yesterday in a hospital. Capt. Ferrara was born in New York City, was a resident of the county for 40 years, Graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy and retired from the Navy in 1962. He was a member of the Submarine Veterans of World War II , the retired Officers Association, the Naval Academy Alumni Association, the Naval Academy Athletic Association and sports Association of San Diego County.
He served on the boards of the Kiwanis Club of San Diego, the Kiwanis Foundation and the Metropolitan YMCA.
Survivors include his wife, Judith; four sons, Duke, Tom, Jim and Mike, and a daughter Judy Atkins, all of San Diego; a brother Polly, and two sisters, Pauline Snyder and Anne Maccarrone, all of San Diego; and eight grandchildren. The family suggested donations to the Kiwanis Foundation or the San Diego Hall of Champions.

Maurice "Duke" Ferrara lived across the street from us in San Diego, Pt. Loma specifically, right down from the Naval Training Center. I remember meeting him for the first time as he stood outside walking an old friend to his car. Duke spoke first welcoming us into the neighborhood and then put out his hand and said, "I'm Duke Ferrara, Captain of the neighborhood watch," in a strong confident voice. I was 26 years old and Randy was 30. I wasn't quite sure what the Captain of the Neighborhood Watch did, but I can tell you I didn't fear too much in those days knowing Duke was on watch directly from across the street. He was retired military and I never knew until this day, as I thought about true heroes who have fought to retain our freedom, what he did exactly. The little piece up above does little to identify the expanse of his military career.

I remember vividly when he told us all about his pending trip to the Phillipines to be honored by Fernando Marcos in appreciation of what the American forces had done all those years ago to help them in their time of need. Duke's rendition of the story gave us all chill bumps as he recounted how his sub had gone in and saved the day. He was enamored with all the red carpet treatment and festivities done in their honor, along with a statuary of some kind erected on the beach, proclaiming their names and offices. They were given gifts and pictures to commemorate their time there.

It was shortly thereafter that things turned upside down in the Phillipines under Marcos' rule and the relations with the United States was severed, but Duke Ferrara remained faithful to his small part in the annals of loyalty to God and country and looked past the human frailty of others and remained steadfast in proclaiming there's good in every body. I salute today, Duke Ferrara, Captain of the Neighborhood Watch and am thankful to have known him and called him "FRIEND."

My Special Mother's Day

I am going backwards in time, as I am left with just the clean-up of the Amos Cottage Aces for Amos tournament and silent auction, and the beds are made after our sister's weekend, ready for the next set of friends. I failed to mention the most wonderful thing in the midst of all of this. Two Saturdays ago...Mother's Day Saturday...(you know it takes a whole weekend to honor a mother,) I had a stamping class that I had signed up for at one of our local scrapbooking stores. You need to see the big picture here. I could not solicit items for the silent auction without buying something in each store. I know how badly the economy has affected so many people, and especially small business owners, so I justified buying something at almost every place to let them know I just wasn't asking for a handout. So, I signed up for a scrapbooking class on a Saturday...a day I never plan anything for unless it is done with Randy and friends.

Randy and I did what we always do almost every morning. He fixes his coffee and I pop open my Starbuck's frappicino, and we go sit outside on our back porch overlooking the pond, yard and sky, and have morning devotionals, pray for God's guidance and get on with our day. Well, we were in the midst of that when I heard the phone ringing inside. It was the owner of the store reminding me of the class, which had already started. I NEVER go out without makeup, but I did this day, figuring anyone else up at 9:00AM couldn't be looking too good to take a scrapbooking class. I told them to start without me and off I went.

There was only one other person and she had already stamped a beautiful array of colors and patterns and techniques, but I was quick to catch up, since I'd already bought most of the materials during my previous solicitations. (I always have good intentions of having some quiet time once I get this book written, but life just seems to have a different path these days.) I found myself just enjoying myself to pieces doing all that creative stuff that just tends to feed my soul. I was even sad when our time was up, so I made additional purchases since I got an extra 10% off as incentive to take more classes, but just for that day only. (I bought a small light box that came in real handy when my sisters and I had already sealed the auction thank you note envelopes and couldn't see if the inside address matched up with the outside address. You could see right through it. I just found the missing letter yesterday and it confirmed what my sister Linda said when we couldn't find a letter for the only envelope left. I had printed 2 of one and thought I'd printed each one consecutively. I was very happy to see I had printed that one and didn't mess things up as we all worked together to get the thank you letters out.)

I'm coming to the good part, so hang in there. I came home and was getting lunch ready for Randy and I. He had some running around to do, so our plan was to meet at home for lunch. I was just washing the lettuce and vegetables and heard the door open and was making a comment about what he wanted in his salad, and I got no answer. I looked up and there was Leah standing right before my eyes. I was speechless, and just burst into tears. What a wonderful Mother's Day surprise it was to see her. She told me she was here for the whole week to help me with the auction. (She used to help me and the other wives of the Universal Studios executives organize the silent auctions that Universal Studios puts on for charities.) I used to laugh and just shake my head at them coming to her for instructions and them being so grateful for her help. It blessed this mother to pieces.

We carved out "Mom and Me" time wherever we could and when it came time for the auction, she had put every item on EXCEL; made colorful tags for each basket; and come up with a final tally sheet on powerpoint. I have never been so proud. The ladies hugged her goodbye and thanked her as she and Randy left to go to the airport. I didn't go as it was too emotional, with all the other things going on. He arrived back about 2 hours later and said, "Well, Leah can't say that all her work wasn't appreciated." I am so thankful for the ladies of the Guild opening their arms and hearts to her. It was the end of a wonderful week. And then my sisters came. (This is starting to sound like "LOST," where you don't know the past, from the present or the future.) And...that was yesterday's story!

I don't want to overlook the fact that I have picked up another country on my widget thing, and I have grown by 2 in 2 countries. I love this blog stuff! I also failed to mention that when I got home from the stamping class, I realized I'd lost an earring. I looked everywhere for it and just could not find it, but when I finally went back to the store to pick up my auction item, there sat the earring waiting patiently for me. I was so happy! God takes such good care of me.

My, it has been awhile since I last wrote, due to foreseen circumstances that demanded my attention. The Amos Cottage Aces for Amos Tennis Tournament and Silent Auction was a slamming success and I am putting all the Treasurer's duties to bed today. I have a great feeling of accomplishment. In looking at the widget thing or whatever it is called where the countries of followers are located, I noticed I picked up a new country...Moldova. Is it coincidental that I wrote about Ion, the watercolorist who had a recent showing here and that is where he is from? I love it.

The auction was back to back with my three sisters coming to Winston Salem for our yearly "Sister's weekend." They have graciously allowed Randy to be an "Unofficial Sister." I say unofficial so as not to emasculate him. (He doesn't want to be thought of as a sister.) I have told him in the past, as long as he doesn't act like a husband, he can stay. He drives us all around and has the best sense of time and direction than any of us, so you can just picture all 4 of us being chauffeured around wherever we go like in the movie "Driving Miss Daisy," but it's more like "Driving Miss Crazies." (Or from Randy's point of view, it could be "Driving ME Crazy." Hmmm....never thought of that one before.)

Anyway, it was great to have everyone here. We took them to the Reynolda House Gardens, shops and Museum. They loved it. I cannot get enough of the history of Winston Salem, and even though I could probably be a docent there, I enjoy going through it afresh every time. We also took them to Boone & Blowing Rock. It just so happened to be the rainiest day ever, and I wonder when I will ever learn...it is always colder in the mountains. We froze, but everyone was just happy to be together. Of course, everything was centered around cooking and food, but there was a "memory moment" when we were all sitting upstairs in the library at our game table playing Scrabble. Scarlette (yes indeedy...she lives in Atlanta and our father named her during the "Gone with the Wind" heyday.) very quietly said, "Do you all realize that this is the first time we have ever sat and played a game together?" Scarlette and Linda are 10 and 7 years older than me, respectively, and our younger sister, Pam, is 18 months younger than me. They were far more in tune with other things than playing games with Pam and I when we were younger, so there's no time like the present to make up for lost time. I would love to post a picture of us from this past weekend, but no one thought to take one. Crazy, huh? So I hope to post one from last year.

The pool opens this weekend in the neighborhood. Summer is coming! All the spring flowers are looking like wilted discolored crepe paper, but the hope of the summer flowers are getting ready to burst forth. We have found 2 at least 4 ' snakes in the yard in the last week, black and harmless, so I have instructed Randy not to harm them, even though they may give us a heart attack if they sneak up on us. I am getting very brave and actually stand over them and watch them maneuver themselves. My goal is to maybe touch one someday. For some reason, I know how they feel with their muscles working like steel cords in their bodies. I must have played with some kind of toy snake that was very realistic long ago. I've researched them, so know without a doubt that they are not copperheads, and supposedly water moccasins don't cross west of the Yadkin River...not too far from here. I am standing on that one, whether it sounds believable to you or not. :) (Randy has discovered that black snakes swim across ponds...and even go and visit beavers that live on the other side.)

Bo...like your new picture you posted. I hope all is well with all of you!