I found a baby bird

Yesterday I went to the park. When I got back home I called Eddie and went over there for awhile. When I was leaving his house I was surprised to find in the back of my truck a baby bird. It was terrified. It was fluttering about the back of my truck frantically trying to get out but it wasn't able to fly well enough yet.

I thought it came from the park and I knew the only chance it had to live was to take it back and hope it's mother would find it. I learned last year when the deer was trapped across from my house it was a waste of time to call the department of natural resources.

I didn't want to get hurt on my way back to the park. I was afraid it would manage to fly out of the back of my truck and end up in the road so we trapped in inside a box. I was on my way to the park with it when I thought, "wait a minute. You went home first and there is probably a bird's nest in that tree next to the truck." So I went home.

As soon as I got out of the truck I saw a mother bird frantically calling her baby and hopping from tree to tree. I took the box and opened it next to the tree hoping the baby bird would just get onto the branch of the tree. It panicked and tried to fly and ended up on the ground next to a van.

I left it there for a few minutes as the mommy and daddy birds were calling to it and it was calling back. I was in a dangerous place for traffic so I corralled it back to the tree. I was careful not to touch it. Just walking toward it from the opposite direction was enough to get it to move. Finally it was at the base of the tree and I settled down to watch the happy reunion.

Then a family came out of the building and walked past the tree. They were unaware of the baby bird and I hoped it would stay put because it was on the other side of the tree. It didn't. It got spooked and skittered off and ended up in the base of a central air conditioning unit. There was nothing I could do at this point.

I went back and checked a couple of times. I could hear the baby chirping under the air conditioner and the parents were still chirping in the tree. The last time I went out I didn't see or hear any of them so I hope they finally had their reunion. More than likely though the air conditioner kicked on with the bird in there and I don't want to even think about the result from that.

I couldn't turn the air off because it is a unit for the whole building. I did my best. That's all I could do.

Puppies and Kittens galore at the pound this week

Call 304-752-1876

June Health Update

It's the 6th. year of my heart failure diagnosis (and whatever is wrong with my lungs). The whole problem is caused by sleep apnea. Although I am light years better than I was 6 years ago I do not lead a normal life.

Life is good though. I hae a routine and as long as I stick to it, I am fine. My days of "rockin' the boat" are over.

I have a dr. appt. next week. Probably routine stuff but my heart has been acting up so much I am afraid to go swimming. We'll see what he says. I am back to doing one thing a day. More than that causes problems.

I'm supposed to be having surgery this month for the ovarian cyst. It has taken 6 months to coordinate 4 doctors to get it done. Time to get it over with already.

1st. 1/2 Logan Banner June 18, 1963 about Devil Anse Hatfield

2nd. Half Logan Banner June 18, 1963 article about Devil Anse Hatfield

Pictured is Devil Anse Hatfield (right) with 2 friends and his 2 bear cubs.

A Highly Uncomfortable Situation

Pastor Rick and his wife had a cookout for Lee Terrace on Saturday. They don't require anyone to go to church to attend. All residents are welcome.

We were all under the Gazebo enjoying ourselves when a woman walked up who is known to be a little of a religious fanatic. She goes to another church though. Not Pastor Rick's, not that it makes much difference to the story.

Anyway...All of a sudden she asks, "who hasn't been saved?"

Dummy, Me, pipes up, "I haven't." I knew as soon as the words left my lips I should have kept my mouth shut. I don't know what inspired me to open my big, fat mouth!

She looks at me and smiles and says, "I knew there was a reason I was drawn to you." Then she walks over and gives me a big hug and get in my face (she could have kissed me if she had been any closer) and says, "repeat after me."

"Dear, God..."

Of course I clamped up. I was not about to ask God to save me in the middle of a Memorial Weekend picnic. She didn't ask if I wanted to be saved. She just walked over and started her ritual.

Then she prompted me again, saying, "go ahead."

That is when I told her, "NO." Very firmly I might add. At this point everyone around was watching what was taking place and it was obvious they were as uncomfortable with the situation as I was. For both of us...not just me.

Then she demanded to know why. I told her I wasn't ready and I wasn't going to do it. She kept pressuring me for a minute or two and finally dropped it. It was truly uncomfortable for everyone. When she left everyone started to assure me that I had done the right thing. Getting saved is not something you do just because someone else wants you to. If you do it, it has to be something you want to do. Period.

Still, I should have just kept my mouth shut and the whole situation would have been avoided. I blame it on lack of oxygen and the heat. I was also a touch dehydrated over the weekend but I think I have fixed that now.

Nuthin' But Chaos

I am from West Virginia. Growing up in the 70's we always called anybody of Hispanic descent a Mexican. I t was not meant to be derogatory that is just what we thought you called them. Then I moved to Florida and I quickly learned that most Hispanic people aren't Mexicans. Mexico is a country, not a person. There are Dominican, Haitians, Cubans and so on and so on.

I also quickly learned that it is an insult to refer to someone who is not Mexican as Mexican. I didn't have a problem with it. I changed when I knew better.

I was living in an apartment complex once and had some very good friends named Maria and People. Maria was Caucasian and lived with People who was one of the Cuban boat people who came over in 1980, I think. They were very nice and Maria was the interpreter when People and I had trouble communicating because of language but we were generally able to get by on our own.

My stepdaughter, Katie, came down to Florida to visit when she was 18 years old. Maria and People had a little get together in her honor. It was very nice and we were having lots of fun when Katie referred to someone as Mexican. She did not mean it in a bad way, she just didn't know any better. Just as I hadn't.

The men were a little tipsy as we were at a party and immediately an uproar started. (to put it mildly) Everyone started yelling in Spanish and gesturing frantically moving at Katie as one. She was looking around completely befuddled at whatever she had said to start such a panic as Maria and I moved in front of her partly to protect her (although I don't think she was in actual physical danger) and party to stop her from saying anything to potentially worsen the situation since she didn't have a clue what was wrong.

I shushed her as I started to explain. (much like what is in the first paragraph) and Maria was urgently translating everything I was saying as People and the others listened. When they took a second to look at Katie they could see the distress and puzzlement on her face. People immediately moved to calm the other revelers because he knew he was dealing with a child who didn't know better as I explained to Katie exactly what was wrong.

She was upset that she had upset everyone because that wasn't her intention and started to apologize profusely. People started to assure her that no apologies were necessary while kicking his party into full swing again.

all's well that ends well.

My Lonely Flag Flies Again

It is the only flag flying at our 10 story apartment building.

Of course it is joined by millions all over the country.

Spending Time at the VA

hen you spend a lot of time at the VA you get to know the other patients. (I took care of my dad for a couple of years)

I actually used to enjoy talking with the guys. My dad was there so much that he was a regular in the smoker's room. They would sit in there and shoot the breeze and have a good time while "we caregivers" ran our asses off getting their stuff. I heard a lot of good stories and met a lot of good people while I was hanging around there.

The holidays are particularly lonely. If there is a way to discharge a vet for a holiday they do it. So, the guy left there are generally too sick to roam the halls. They appreciate someone taking a minute to stop and talk or maybe giving them a care package with a magazine or candy.

I talked to guys who had fought in every war. Many didn't have families to visit them. I heard many great stories of heroism and lots of stories about not coping too well. I remember one guy in particular telling me he was a sniper in the Vietnam War. He told me he killed so many men that they could stack them end to end and on top of each other and they wouldn't fit in a house. I really think he was trying to shock me.

I just thanked him for doing what he had to do which kind of surprised him, I think. I could see a calm come into his eyes when he saw that I wasn't repulsed by his story. War is hell. You gotta do what you gotta do I told him.

Anyway if you live close to a VA hospital take the time to visit. A little change for a vending machine, or a pack of cigs or a phone card is helpful as well.

When daddy died he had a couple of cartons of cigarettes that he had not smoked. I took them up to the VA and gave them to a vet in the smoking room and told him to give them out in honor of my dad. He said he would take care of it and I knew he appreciated it just as my dad did when others shared their cigs with him.

The man even reminded me of my dad. Obviously too sick to be smoking but refusing to give it up come hell or high water because they were too sick for it to make a difference any more anyway. For some people it is the only pleasure they have left.