Class Reunions

The first copy of this post "disappeared" from this blog. Strange but not unusual for me!  So here it is again.

Have you been to a class reunion lately? Have you refused to go to a class reunion lately? Some  people have distinct views about going or not going....The majority of the alumni love it and count the days until another rolls around.

I just attended an all fifties reunion in Virginia.  All the classes from the 50s were asked to the "Nifty Fifties" reunion.  It was well attended as most reunions go.  A question has begged for an answer:  Why do the ones who never left the area  not attend the reunions? Wouldn't you think  they would be there with bells on?  Of course the  committees who make the plans and do the work are mostly local.  They are a faithful and dedicated group and deserve all the accolades we can give them.

It has been seventeen years since I was able to attend one.  That is a long time when one  is classed in the "senior citizen" grouping.  I was determined to go this time if had to be pushed in a wheelchair. (I wasn't far from that as Mr. Parkinson reared his ugly head on Thursday evening.) I did not sleep one minute that I was aware of.  Now you ladies know what the lack of sleep does to a woman's eyes and face in general.  Forget that I had been using this expensive renewal cream to make me look younger.  I had been told that it was working and I was pleased.  But a sleepless night took care of that.  As the day drew closer I began to wonder if I had made a good decision to push myself to the limit in order to attend this special reunion.

I had another reason that compelled me forward...I would take my latest book...a children's book and donate half of the profits to he scholarship fund.  There was not a line of people clamoring to buy that book .  It seems that every one's grand kids were too old!  Weren't there young greats?  But I made it up in  my other books and was able to donate a nice amount to the fund.

And in closing I would like to give a one sentence observation of class reunions.  Go with an open mind, expecting to have a great time but don't be crushed if that special high school boy friend doesn't recognize you!

Darlene Bays Eichler
Dublin High School Class of 1956

















































Readers, I found a paper copppy of this post tht went missing.  So now w have two posts about the class reunoesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssin

 

LIVING WITH PARKINSON'S

I admit I live with two men!  No there is no "other man." There is no ménage a trios'  or practice of bigamy.. The other man is not truly a human being but a disease given the name Parkinson's Disease for the  researcher who identified it--James Parkinson.  I call the progressive neurological condition Mr. Parkinson to portray him as an enemy and bad guest.  He was never invited, never welcomed because of his intrusive nature. He is overbearing, mean spirited, unfeeling, a thief, a con man a man of cunning ways..  At times my means of fending him off seem to work, at other times they don't.  I never know when to expect one of his attacks. He has the tactics of a smart general...always attacking when I least expect .  He wants me to surrender but I would never dream of it.

Let's go back a few years when this uninvited guest came into my life. Of all the diseases out there, I never thought I would contract Parkinson's.  It was way down the scale of possibilities.  Cancer had already reared its devious head and with prayer, good doctors and a spirit of determination it was overcome.  My mother and her sister were not so fortunate

I have entered the twilight years of my life and I want to do my part in making it the best time possible.  As a librarian I am a planner, not just for daily activities but for the strong forces in life.  For me that happens to be Parkinson's Disease.  My plan is to learn all I can, be in a Parkinson's support  group  and always look up [hard when you have Parkinson's}.  I'm  realizing everyday that the busier I stay the better I'm able to handle the disease.   If I live long enough I know I won't be able to be as active as I am now..  I have many interests that stimulate the mind .... I pray I'll never stop learning. I would like to teach as long as possible.

This was not meant to be a negative post.  I would like for readers who have degenerative diseases to know that attitude is a large part of the battle. Join a support group.  You will be glad you did. And first and foremost stay interested in the world around you. You have many memoirs to write!


Comments are encouraged.                                                                                                                                                                                                                        
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Little Green Men and Blood

Ah, the innocence of youth!  Our six year old recently posed a very interesting and insightful question -- "Mommy, do aliens have green blood???"  We proceeded to discuss this inquiry from a scientific point of view.  Kindergarten has changed quite a bit since Dad and I were in school, and our little scholar already knows that mammal blood is "blue inside, but red outside."  Knowing that our blue veins and oxygen-exposed red blood both contribute to our coloring as humans, Mr. Scientist hypothesized that this must mean that green "alien" skin must receive its coloring from their green blood.

This was the end of our short discussion on the color of blood we may someday find to flow in our yet-to-be-discovered alien "brothers" as it was time to ride bicycles and giggle and eat popsicles again as all little boys should this time of year.  Not long after, however, we found ourselves conversing with our elderly neighbor regarding her grandchildren.  Our dear neighbor is blessed to be a great-grandmother already, so her grandchildren are not much younger than my husband and me.  Neighbor "Grandma" as dubbed by our children was discussing how she questions the friends of her grandchildren as to whether they are "bathed in the blood or just in the water."  Blood seemed to be the "hot topic" for our back porch this week!

Being raised in the church, I knew exactly what she meant.  My dear husband had an idea, but wasn't sure.  The children were not around, so I was not met with any of their usual questions after parting from our across-the-fence meeting.  The "out of fashion" nature of our neighbor's comment was then followed with her second statement excusing her old ways, but justifying her right to feel as she does about her faith and religion.

As a child of the Methodist church, a teen of rebellion, and a now mother of two young sons, I feel that blood is a recurring theme in life.  We all are familiar with the blood of Christ and the powers held within.  The service of communion and the wine or juice you imbibe as symbolic blood.  This blood is "good" blood, but I feel that more "bad" blood is in our faces more and more every day.

Had I been born in an earlier time, I feel strongly that I would have been the early bird collecting my newspaper to read over coffee.  Today, as do many, I read the news during my weekdays on the internet.  Unfortunately, what do I read about the most???  Blood.  Not green blood, not Christ's blood, but the blood being shed by too many innocents.  Young children struck down before their life even began.  Teens killing other teens.  Family members killing their own kin.  Civil uprisings in distant lands with death tolls too high for me to even comprehend.

I restrict my news digesting to my day hours whilst sitting in front of two monitors for one major reason -- blood.  There are evenings after I've read the bad news of the day when I feel that I cannot shake the negative emotions that are inevitably stirred by the headlines that always make their way to the top.  I have discussed my news-induced depression with a dear friend, and his theory is that it's not the world that's changed, but the "size" of our world.  The internet has brought stories to our knowledge that might not have been broadcast on your suppertime world news reports that are only able to include 30 minutes of journalism for both our country and the entire world we all share.

That being said, I reserve my home hours for my "small" world.  Our children and their innocent questions.  Our neighbor and her Baptist ways (please don't ever change, "Grandma!").  My dear husband with eight hours of pent-up "grown-up" conversation, talking to me all evening as if we'd just met.  The occasional call or text from a local relative that I'm free to return at my leisure, even the following day.  If there's any blood in my daily life, then I hope and pray every morning that it's either pondering with a child those with possible green, embracing those discussing Christ's, or just enough to be "fixed" with a magic Band-aid.  ;)