On turning 100

I've never known personally, someone who was a 100 years old. Oh, I've read about them. I used to see them on the Today show when Willard Scott would wish them a special "Smuckers Birthday Greeting". But to be able to talk to a centenarian has never happened.

But that's about to change.

A very special person in my heart, Rosie Keefe, will soon be reaching that milestone on Feb, 4, 2017.

I've known Rosie my entire life. She is that special person that many of us have had in one's family. Though not related by blood, Rosie was more family than most other relatives.

My first memory of Rosie was when I would visit my aunt at her office across the street from Miami Valley Hospital in Dayton, Ohio.  My aunt, who my brothers and I, affectionately called Aunt Babm, worked as an office manager for a group of leading Ophthalmologists in Dayton, Drs. Stanbaugh and Thomas. Rosie, was their Registered Nurse, and my Aunt Babm's best friend.

The office was at Wyoming St. and Rubicon St. across from the hospital where the two surgeons would perform eye exams and operations with Rosie assisting them. A busy and bustling part of town with the University of Dayton near by and the Montgomery County Fairgrounds just down the street. A more commercial and business like area rather than residential. Yet, Rosie lived in a small frame house just across the parking lot from the office. I'm guessing she was probably never late for work being that close.

Since eye examinations were foremost in our household and I guess because they were probably gratis, I got to visit quite often. Rosie was always there in her crisp white starched uniform, always with a smile and a hug. She loved all of the Kender boys so much, but secretly I think she loved me the most.

A few years later, when I was in high school, I had an opportunity to work  nearby with Rosie. 

The office building housed in addition to the Ophthalmologists various Internists as well. They sent their patients to a laboratory in the  basement to have blood work and accompanying urine tests run. My Aunt Babm was influential in securing a position for me as literally "chief (specimen) bottle washer" after school. Each and every day, Rosie made it a point to come down to my little alcove and say hi to me always wearing her personable smile. Most days, I would venture upstairs to visit Rosie in her work area wearing my "Ben Casey-type" shirt/uniform to wish her a warm greeting as well.

Another mental snapshot of Rosie was when she ended up living only a few blocks away.

My grandmother, Nana, lived with Aunt Babm just a few streets away on Addison, just up from my house on Sandhurst. After Nana passed away, Rosie moved from her small house near the office and shared the home with Aunt Babm. Rosie would eventually become a care-giver as Aunt Babm's health began to slowly fail.

There they would spend their hours creating the most beautiful needle point pieces together and never, ever without fail listening to another of her loves, the Cincinnati Reds.

As time moved on and the house became more difficult to maintain they eventually both moved to Friendship Village in north Dayton and where after Babm's passing, Rosie lives alone today.

Even at 99 and soon to be 100, Rosie never misses wishing me  a holiday greeting. She always sends a Christmas card and always asks about my family whenever we talk on the phone.
When I return to my childhood home in Dayton, some 1,000 miles away, I always without fail make sure my visit to Rosie is at the top of my list.

 During a recent visit last September, I commented to Rosie about her upcoming 100th birthday and said "Rosie, I don't know anyone who is 100", she smiled at me and said wryly, " neither do I".

As I look back over the years, I realize I really don't know much about the life history of my centenarian friend. I guess it never occurred to me to ask. All I ever knew was that Rosie was just always there. But I will ask  on my next visit and next visit after that for I feel if Rosie has been with us this long, she will be with us for years to come and has a lot of stories to tell me. 

So, Happy Birthday my dear friend. I am blessed having you in my life. You are an inspiration to me to cause me to want to stay around for another 30 some of my years to attain the goal that you have now reached.

Your loving "nephew"
Tommy

Magazines.....sadly another treasure we are losing

I miss magazines. I miss reading magazines. I miss the feel of magazines, hell, I think maybe I even miss the smell of magazines. I grew up with magazines. 

Everyone my age and of course those older than me read magazines, and some of the younger generations read magazines. 

Webster defines a magazine as :  a type of thin book with a paper cover that contains stories, essays, pictures, etc., and that is usually published every week or month.


I guess that just about covers everything I read growing up.. Of course a few of the magazines I "looked" at had articles in them but I didn't read them. I said I did, but actually all I was doing was looking at the pictures.

Comic books were considered magazines. "Superman" was probably at the top of my list. Each month as the new issue came out, I would devour my treasure from front to back including the Q and A section in the middle that seemed to answer all of the same stupid questions. It frustrated me to no end how some of the stupid questions kept reappearing like "How did Superman get to Earth?". Geesh people why are you even reading the comic book if you didn't know THAT answer.

Of course, another important part of the comic book (magazine) was the back cover where you could buy anything from xray glasses, to a hover board, a one-man helicopter, and gag gifts like fake vomit and fake dog doodoo.

Jughead and Archie would show up on occasion in my personal library and although I wouldn't admit it back then, I think I even had an affection for Little Lulu.

My oldest brother, Dave, was a Boy Scout, so he would receive Boy's Life.magazine. I kinda liked it especially the hobbies and projects but the scouting information bored me a little bit.

Another favorite was Popular Mechanics. Wow, now we are talking about projects. I think Dave subscribed to that magazine as well.It probably gave him the foundation for majoring in Engineering in college. He still teaches Engineering classes to this day at the age of 75 at Wright State University in Dayton, Ohio where his name is legend.

The magazine, I think, also had instructions for making a "shock" machine that he used to run experiments with  my best friend, "The Jer" and I as he would make us hold on to some metal orange juice cans that he had connected to a transformer. "The Jer" could hold on all the way up to about 110 volts before he would let out a scream.

But the best of all, the stalwart of the literary world was the "Reader's Digest". What a treasure.

From start to finish, it held my interest for years and years. From "Humor in Uniform" to "Amazing Anecdotes". I read every article, every joke, every story..

My Mom submitted two or three stories for publication but they were never accepted. I still have the rough drafts to this day. 

As I have written in this blog in the past, her dedication to the written word is what has inspired me to share my thoughts in blogs and even a publication of some short stories about growing up with my best friend..

Sadly, now all my reading is done on my tablet. Gone are the newspapers. Gone are the magazines, gone is the "feel" of having that magazine in my hand.

Kids nowadays won't have a chance to have a rolled-up comic book in their back pocket that they could simply sit up against a tree or lay in the grass on a Summer day and read about super heroes.

It's just another thing of the past that yeah, I guess I do miss.

If only our bodies lasted as long as our cars and trucks

As God gets close to putting out his 108 billionth human being model...that's right, people, 108,000,000,000...you'd think He would have worked out all the kinks and design flaws by now.

First of all, don't be alarmed and think I am committing blasphemy. I'm not. The BIG GUY and I have an understanding. He said it's okay if I get angry just as long as I do it for the right reason. He also said it's okay if I question Him, or question myself, or question anything, because it shows Him I am using my brain and that's what I am supposed to be doing.

But I had a sleepless night last night and I just keep trying to figure out some things. And one of them is "Why in the heck, does He keep putting out these wonderful, miraculous, pieces of equipment...the human...but He still leaves a few things out, or leaves some of the wiring crossed, but mostly...WHY DOES HE MAKE THEM WEAR OUT AND BREAK DOWN ALONG THE WAY.

I've taken trips back and forth across this country and rarely if ever have had my car break down. I have driven cars for 200 to 250 thousand miles and all I did was change the oil. And yet, some people, both family and friends of mine, they get these human vehicles, and they start wearing out half way during the trip. And then...yes, and then....what the heck is the deal with some of these little Junior models who barely get a chance to go around the block before their wheels fall off. Let alone the mini-models that never get a chance to start their engines.

Come on, God. Give me a reason. Give us all a reason. Is this some kind of a sick game where you are testing us to see who can last the longest. Why the heck put us down here if there is going to be pain and misery. flat tires and engine failure. Don't you have designers who have tested and tested the human equipment that now they can finally put out the perfect model. 

You said you wanted to design us, after yourself. Well, dang it I see some crappy wiring. I see some weak frames. I see some fenders that don't hold up. I just don't get it.

As always, I appreciate you allowing me to voice my opinions in the Complaint section.I know you have had a lot of success, so you can't be doing it completely wrong.

But just do me a favor and send down some instructions for fixing a few dents for my friends so they can get their race car or buggy running again.

Your pal, Tom

Seeing beauty that exists in the stark landscape

The other day as I was coming home from work down the same street, past the same creek that wound through the same trees getting nearer to my house with each turn and bend in the road, every scene was the same. But this day was different from the day last week. For this day all of the leaves had fallen from the trees almost all at once.

It's not unusual for our landscapes to change this rapidly particularly when our Fall weather stays in the 80s and 90s and then suddenly the temperature plummets to the low 30s. And that was the case this day.

I stopped for a moment and took in the stark setting as the trees and limbs stood bare like skeletons with their arms outstretched holding onto to maybe a single leaf.

And then I saw some color. It wasn't a red or bronze leaf, but it was a bright colored jacket or maybe a sweater on a young child. And then I saw another and another. They were simply kids playing in the woods, like they did everyday but now they were no longer hidden by the camouflage of the foliage.

I saw forts in the boughs of the massive trunks of the oak trees. I saw boards nailed to the same trunks providing a ladder to each of the flimsy hideouts. I could hear distance shouts of joy as the kids chased each other like they did everyday but this time spotted by someone who dreamed of those times many years ago.

It was a moment that took me back 60 years to a time when life was peaceful and innocent.

And it also reminded me that as we pass thru life seeing the same people, same houses, same streets, same woods behind that foliage, behind those walls, behind those fallen leaves there are kids enjoying a moment in time. And sadly, sometimes the cries aren't always cries of joy, but cries of sadness and pain, hiding behind the cloak of color.

I'm glad I took that moment. I'm glad I had that memory.

I hope those who live with suffering behind the curtain can find hope and turn their anguish into happiness.