Becoming a citizen: "I love it so much"

     For Gillian Boonzaier -- usually the first person people meet when they enter our residency (Trinity Terrace in Fort Worth) -- the American dream came true. 
      She now is an American citizen.
      On Wednesday morning, September 25, Gillian took the oath of U.S. citizenship -- some 20 years after moving with her family from South Africa to this country.
     She was one of 531 immigrants who took the oath at the Plano Events Center. It was one of three ceremonies that day, with another 1,000 or so also celebrating the achievement.

      Gillian's two daughters and one of her two grandsons witnessed a moving moment in her life. (She also has a son, and another grandson is due in December.)

      "It was so well-organized," Gillian said of the ceremony. "I knew it would be emotional, but it was more emotional than I thought it would be.

     "I cried."

     Because of the large crowd, the citizens-to-be were asked to be present by 8 a.m. -- so the trip from Fort Worth to Plano meant a very early departure -- and there was a wait of more than an hour before the ceremony began.

     There was a brief video about Ellis Island, where for more than 50 years through 1954 millions of immigrants were processed upon entering the U.S. An appeal to become voters and an explanation of the oath of citizenship followed.

     Then came a roll call of the 51 countries represented -- it was 71 countries in the afternoon -- with the applicants rising to stand in preparation for the oath.

      "So many countries," Gillian said, noting that India and Japan had the largest delegation and were met with loud cheers. When South Africa was called, "my three family members applauded (softly).

      One country was Estonia. "I didn't know that it was a real country," Gillian said, smiling. "I thought it was a make-believe land from The Princess Bride."

Gillian with daughters Katrina (left)
 and Lauren (right) and grandson Grayson

     She had been working in the U.S. on
a green card, but it was due to be renewed in 2025, and because the cost was the same as becoming a citizen, she felt it was time to make the move that her younger daughter Katrina previously had made.

      Gillian submitted her citizenship
papers in March, took the required test in July, and passed easily. (She had studied her 100 flashcards diligently and never missed an answer on "pop" tests in the front lobby.

      The Boonzaier family left South Africa in 2004 when job opportunities became scarce as the end of apartheid changed society there. Gillian had accompanied her then-husband on his business trips to the U.S., so moving here appealed to her because "it's the land of milk and honey."

      The family's three school-age kids settled in the Miami area, where jobs in the airline and travel industries were available. Oldest daughter Lauren eventually moved to Fort Worth and when she was pregnant eight years ago, Gillian came to be with her.

     "I told her I would stay if I could find a job," Gillian recalled. She applied for a child-care position that was advertised by First Presbyterian Church, then saw the nearby front entry at Trinity Terrace.

     "I walked across the street," she said, "and went to human resources, applied for the front-desk position ... and I got the job."

      She's been at Trinity Terrace ever since; her title is "lead concierge," meaning her work space is across from the front door. She is the smiling greeter, front-lobby traffic director and organizer -- it is often a busy place -- and she finds answers to questions and requests. She is the doer of good deeds.

      And now, a proud American citizen, with the citizenship paper and photos for proof.

      Trinity Terrace staff and residents honored her the next day with flowers, balloons, and a cake, and -- yes --- she registered to vote.

      "It was all so nice," she said. "I love it so much." 

      

              

       

       

    

The Social Hour at Trinity Terrace: a history

          From humble beginnings, the Social Hour has grown into one of the best-attended, most-anticipated weekly events at Trinity Terrace.

      It began in 2008, and it was Martha Taylor's idea. Also credit Bill Starz for the start. (That's a tease; read below for the details).

      Whether the setting is Thursday-at-4 p.m. in the Longhorn Auditorium or the occasional evening venture outside on the terrace area, there are programs that draw up to 200 or so residents.

Trinity Terrace's ukulele players and singers

      Guests attend, too, especially when the "world-famous Trinity Terrace Ukulele Philharmonic Orchestra, Chorus, Marching Society and Drill Team" -- that's director Ken Knight's tongue-in-cheek description -- is featured (four times a year). 

      The uke group, which has grown from a dozen to some 40-plus residents, has been in existence since January 2010 and from its start a part of Social Hour. And it now usually draws a more-than-capacity crowd. So much so that two concerts -- Wednesday and Thursday -- are a new schedule feature.      

      Another great attraction: Resident Services director Behka Hartmann's program of songs ... be it jazz, classic or popular tunes and -- as in 2022 -- Christmas favorites. 

      Her annual program in late May, outside on a nice evening, has been tied to a meal for residents, sponsored and served in the past two years by home-care companies. 

      Since its very beginning, musical programs have been the core of the Social Hour schedule, and the main focus of those doing the scheduling.

      Bill Starz was the first Social Hour committee chairman, and the longest-serving: six years (2008-13). He was followed by Charles Kelley for a year (2014), Rev. Bill Gould for three years (2015-17), Ken Knight for two (2018-19) and currently Nico Van Thyn for four years (2020-23).

    There were two pandemic-forced interruptions -- four days short of one year, March 2020 to April 1, 2021, and then another eight weeks (last week of 2021, first seven of 2022).

     Lonely times at Trinity Terrace, right?

---

     Many programs feature speakers -- book authors, newspaper people, Fort Worth notables, residents sharing their travel adventures, medical experts, etc.

     Some have attracted full-house audiences, such as then-mayor Betsy Price and most recently Tarrant County Sheriff Bill Waybourn. Most memorably, in 2017, there was then-new resident Dr. Bobby Brown -- New York Yankees star-turned-Fort Worth cardiologist who went overtime sharing his wealth of humorous stories. 

      Back to music: There are a dozen "regulars" audiences appreciate -- such as resident classical pianist Patrick Stanford; songs by Lisa Garrett, the aforementioned Ken Knight, Nancy and Gregg Froman, and Bob McClendon;  piano-and-trumpet by Debbie and Ken Cockerham; piano duos (Nancy and Bruce Muskrat, Doris Gameiro and Jose Cubela), piano entertainer Buddy Bray, piano/music historian Beverly Howard (a resident), the "Warmin'  Up team (Morgan Sullivan and Jim Duff), TCU students (with vocals and wind instruments), the Camp Meeting Boys group (with yodeler Devin Dawson); and the always reliable Texas Winds Outreach programs.

      Give a huge assist for at least 10 programs in 2023 to the Trinity Terrace Foundation, which provided $2,500 to pay for music and speakers. That meant -- in many people's opinion -- a boost in program quality.

      It gave the Social Hour a budget, an unprecedented development. Previously, when payment was requested, funds were drawn -- occasionally -- from the Resident Services department.

Paschal High School's mariachi group, 2022

      Resident Services also has tied several events to the Social Hour -- Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Cinco de Mayo (which in the past two years has featured high school mariachi groups from Paschal and Northside), Octoberfest, Halloween, Christmas, New Year's Eve. Next year, too: Christmas in July.

     Another goal in scheduling is to have residents do the program. They have done at least a dozen almost every year; in some of the early Social Hour years as many as 20.

     And Trinity Terrace staffers have been the performers, too. Once upon a time, the omnipresent Alex Smith -- now the events setup coordinator, but younger then -- sang Al Green tunes ("I wowed them ... I was good," he said, laughing at the recall.) 

      A decade ago, it was Bobby Davis (director of facility services) playing guitar alongside his teacher, our house painter Arjan Golemi (the Greek native). (Bobby since has switched to drums, and plays for his church worship group.)  

      And coming in November, five staffers -- Dining Services workers Kristian Thomas, Jaelon Wingham and Emily Gonzalez, weekend security guard Jacob Montgomery, and package-deliver specialist Emmanual Ogunyomi -- will perform a program of "scenes" and music.

      For a third year in a row, there will be a "Resident Roundtable" -- four residents covering their life stories -- on November 9.

A cooking demonstration: Dr. Loanne
 Chiu and chef Leon  Rivera III, 2022

    One more "in-house" program in the planning: Remember a year ago the cooking demonstration by resident Dr. Loanne Chiu and chef Leon Rivera III (with cookies by Diane Kessler). On the prospective 2024 schedule, February 1: a "cakes-cookies-pies" program featuring Elm Fork pastry chef Carol McFarland, with short segments by residents JoAnn Johnson, Jim Barker, Pat Adams and Diane Kessler (again). Plus, treats for the audience.

---

      About those humble beginnings, and Martha Taylor. She is now the matriarch of Trinity Terrace. In 2008, she was a spy, energetic 90-year-old with a plan: a weekly gathering of residents for music and -- yes -- drinks, a social gathering.

Martha Taylor

     She took her idea to Bill Starz, who agreed to be the first chairman. And he could play harmonica, which he often did in the first few years of Social Hour.

      Their first meeting drew about eight people and was held in a room that no longer exists -- near the Elm Fork dining room on the Terrace Tower's main floor (the expanded library and mail area are there now).

     Word got around and the weekly attendance grew, and soon it was time to move to the bigger Worth Lounge.

     The name went from Happy Hour to Sundowners -- neither acceptable -- and then Social Hour was a fit.

      More music, more drinks, more people, and Bill Starz went to then-executive director Lee Patterson to ask if the Longhorn Auditorium could be used for Social Hour.

     The answer was yes, and Social Hour had a permanent home. 

     Martha Taylor taught herself to play piano, and she was the Social Hour program on several occasions. And much appreciated.

       "Someone would call sick at the last minute, or unable to come for another reason," recalled Bill Gould of his time as chairman, "and Martha would say, 'I can do the program.'

    "She could tear it up," Bill added. "She played ragtime. Couldn't read music, but she could play by feel, and people loved it. ... She would get after it."

     Also, he said, "She is one of the sweetest, most enjoyable, pleasant people to be with. ... She would play piano in her apartment with the door open, and her neighbors loved it."

      Another hero was resident Judy Norman, who was on the Social Hour committee and, said Bill, "saved my bacon a couple of times" by creating programs -- poetry reading, play acting, the "Goofy Geezers" comedy (?) troupe. She remains a help with program suggestions.

      Originally, the Social Hour plan was to have a program for some 25-30 minutes, then let people visit (drink) ... socialize. Bill Gould, as scheduler, found it increasingly difficult to bring in musical guests and limit them to a half hour. So gradually -- and continuing with Ken Knight as chairman -- the programs grew to 40-45 minutes (or more).

     Ken, who had begun visiting for Social Hour before he and Richard Morehead moved in as residents in August 2017, felt that not having a budget for Social Hour was a "major concern," and scheduling was "a constant, ongoing stressor." 

     But in one of his two years in charge, Ken lined up 40 musical programs (in 51 weeks). His first guest: classical guitarist Dr. Will Douglas, a program regular.

     "I got lots of tremendous feedback [from residents]," Ken said. "People thought I was walking on water. We were fortunate to have some good musical talent come in."

      With his leadership, the ukulele/vocal group has grown to the enthusiastic 40-plus.

      Currently, suggestions for programs are always welcomed, and usually followed up. With the help of Resident Services and the Trinity Terrace Foundation, programming will continue to be impressive.

     Humble beginnings to a weekly attraction. Who knows, we might get another Alex Smith sing-along or a Thai cooking demonstration by Sithichart Phatanapirom (our "Bob"). 

     Come to Social Hour, and check it out.

Basketball, murder, an everlasting mystery

A strange (spy?) story ... a mysterious disappearance

 

Every day is a day for gratitude (and journaling)

      Gratitude (definition): The quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness. 

     This is about gratitude, and how it is part of our everyday life.

A decade of gratitude journals

     Tonight I will make the final entry into my
2021 gratitude journal. It will conclude the 10th consecutive year of daily gratitudes; the photo shows the books (and does not include the two years in which I kept the entries on separate sheets, which later were converted into a digital file. Wish I could locate those ... but I will.)

     Wrote about this in detail almost four years ago ... https://nvanthyn.blogspot.com/2018/02/scanning-gratitudes-and-memories.html

     The idea, as stated then, is to find something positive in every day, no matter what's happened. 

     The last two years -- the COVID years -- have tested that objective. But, dang it, we can do it. Even on January 6, 2021 -- a day that will die in infamy -- the positive was that democracy works (shaky as it is).

     Anyway, we are grateful for another year. Older we get, the more grateful we are. There are more health issues -- general soreness, for one -- and we have to make some changes to protect that health. But here we are. (And we are not volunteering to try the COVID experience.)

     Personally, 2021 was much better than my heart-stopping few months of 2020. Don't know that my longtime roommate would say that about her personal health, but she's determined to hang around.

     We are so grateful for our friendships -- the ones that are decades-long, and the newer ones we've gained the past few years (mainly at Trinity Terrace), but also from other places.

     It is a bit hurtful, and disappointing, that with many old (and new) friends, we don't agree on politics and social issues. Frankly, we have had to split with some people or reduce time talking (or writing) with them. They are entitled to their opinions; we all are. Sharing those opinions often does not go well.

     There doesn't seem to be much chance for compromise, and that's too bad. I think you know the disagreements, for the most part, center on one person. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

     But I am grateful to live in a place where people can express those opinions openly if they want to do so.

     To me, civility is a crucial part of life. I don't always get there, and I'm sorry about that. But there are times to stick up for what you believe in. Time and place is important.

     That said, civility was greatly missing on January 6. Period. Before and after all that mess.

      Back to gratitude. We are beyond grateful, if that's possible, for the kids and grandkids, the most special part of our lives. Nothing is greater in our lives than family.

      Just to touch on athletics for a moment: It was nice to see games and matches played before live, in-person crowds for most of this year (the Summer Olympics were an exception, and the empty stands took a lot away from the excitement).

      Don't know how wise it is late in this year to have full houses of spectators, and it is distressing in the last month to see so many players "in safety protocol" or on inactive (COVID) lists, and so many games cancelled or postponed.

       Could write a whole blog on this -- and I've said it before, and will continue to say it: (1) Athletics these days is far too much about m-o-n-e-y; college football and the NFL are prime examples; (2) watching all the athletes with their "look-at-me" celebration antics takes the fun out of it for me. I know it doesn't bother a lot of people (let's say, younger people). But I'd just as soon turn off the TV as watch that crap.

        And as much as I love baseball -- always have since I was 8 -- I don't like much of the trends in today's game. But -- money rules -- with the current lockout in the major leagues, we likely won't have to worry about any games until, say, mid-summer. 

        Don't like saying "who cares?" about baseball, though. I have been rooting for my favorite team since 1956, and I will always care.

---

         A final word on gratitude. Recently read Michael J. Fox's book The Future is Now, and the part I like best was his writing about his father-in-law, Stephen Pollan. He was "by profession, an attorney, financial advisor, and life coach" and  had a plaque on his desk that read, "Professional Fear Remover."

     In dealing with Stephen's death, Michael writes, "In our family vigil, there was love for him and for each other, and a sincere aura of acceptance, which was a big part of Stephen's philosophy. The prevailing mood and spirit around Stephen -- gratitude -- was the very essence of the man. That's what he inspired in all of us. Always thankful for everything in his life, his gratitude was manifest in how much he loved his wife and family, and how appreciate he was for all of his experiences, positive and negative. A true optimist, he was known for his trademark assurance, 'Just wait, kiddo, it gets better.' 

      "The core lesson Stephen left with me was this: With gratitude, optimism becomes sustainable."  

      Love that last sentence. 

      Michael goes on to write this:

      "... As for the future, I haven't been there yet. I only know that I have one. Until I don't. The last thing we run out of is the future.

     "Really, it comes down to gratitude. I am grateful for all of it -- every bad break, every wrong turn, and the unexpected losses -- because they're real. It puts into sharp relief the joy, the accomplishments, the overwhelming love of my family. I can be both a realist and an optimist."

      From this realist and optimist, and from our place at Trinity Terrace, we wish you a great 2022. With gratitude. 

Turn off the snow, turn on the power

The view from our apartment ... cold!

    We have been powerless for much of Monday and today. We were in the dark for hours, and it's been a test. But we are surviving.

     As I write this, the power has been back on for 20 minutes after the second 12-hour blackout. I have use of my coputer, so I am writing in a hurry because who knows when the power goes out again.

     Spent most of Monday without electrical devices, and again the first part of today.

     So no microwave to heat water for coffee or tea or soup. No television -- which we watched constantly last week and which we depend on for most of our news. For those in our facility who still like to read actual newspapers, no delivery the past two days.

     (It is still a place for the real Fort Worth Star-Telegram, Dallas Morning News, New York Times and Wall Street Journal -- the kind you hold in your hands, not the online versions. I am not one of those readers these days.)

     I don't like snow, and I don't like cold weather. Never have, never will. And it is just too darned cold and too snowy here -- as bad as it's been in our part of the country for, I'm reading, three decades.

     Looked at my phone -- once we were back online Monday evening -- and it said 7 degrees with a "real feel" of minus 6. Last I checked we were not in Green Bay. Today we are up to 18 degrees, a heat wave.

     But, hey, I am not complaining. Please don't take it that way. We are grateful for the dedicated management people and staff in our facility, who made sure that everyone here -- some 450 residents -- had something to eat and drink, twice Monday and again for lunch today.

     They even managed hot soup today.

     Some of those managers and staff spent Sunday night here, and many stayed again last night. And the dining services department also had to deal with a broken water pipe and a partially collapsed ceiling portion in the kitchen.

      Hurray for our management, resident services and dining services departments.

---

     We have residents who voice their gripes, and maybe some are justified. But our feeling is that those in charge of this place, and those who work here, care about us and our well-being.

       It is frustrating not having much to do. I am enjoying typing this message, feels good, feels right.

       We are missing our exercise classes (yes, even at 8 a.m. most weekdays); they were called off. Our Country Store, a convenience for residents that is open from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. Monday through Friday, never opened. No power in the exercise room or in the store, obviously.

      Plus, it was cold in our apartment, and it got chillier as the day wore on, although our blankets and afghans were made to good use.

      The good thing was that by raising the blinds in our apartment, the sunshine coming through did help warm it up a bit inside and gave us light. 

       The result was we could read, and I have been able to cover about 175 more pages of this book, which has 589 pages to read in all. It is mostly about politics (I like reading about politics), but thankfully not today's politics.

     (Talk about powerless ... following the impeachment trial last week, watching two completely opposite views, that was definitely beyond our control. But it was great theater.)

      Our power went out -- my guess -- about 2:30 a.m. Monday, came back on at 7:11 a.m. (I know, because I reset a couple of our clocks), just in time for me to go downstairs and bring back two cups of coffee (black), the almost-every-day starter for Ms. Bea.

      That was from the only large container of coffee the dining staff managed to do after the power came on ... until the power went out again.

    That was shortly after 8 a.m. At 8:41 p.m. -- yes, a darned 12-plus hours -- the power came back on. This was after we made several trips down our dark hallway with a flashlight showing us the way. (Early in the day, we made a couple of trips down the stairs, where it was dark enough that we had to be very careful not to stumble.)

      Fortunately, one of the two elevators in our building was operating. Same was true -- one working elevator -- in the two other buildings in our facility. Generators made that possible.

      Today the power went out in the middle of the night, and came back on at 1:41 p.m. One improvement the dining staff was able to make: It had hot coffee in abundant supply downstairs. Beatrice was fine with that, and I was a happy volunteer to bring back two cups.

      Our facility was like the rest of most of our part of Fort Worth, with rolling blackouts imposed to save electricity for most of the past two days.

      Several times I thought about the people who regularly do without electrical power or running water, or so many of our modern conveniences ... or, sadly, without food. That's a significant part of the world, even a significant part of our very city and area. 

      Thought about how blessed, and maybe privileged, we are.

      I know people who grew up in that kind of environment; it hits very close to home. We didn't have a lot in the early 1950s in Amsterdam, but we rarely lacked for what we needed. A little girl growing up in rural North Louisiana didn't have a lot, either.

      "You don't think about it," she'll tell you. "You do with what you have, and you adjust to it. You find a way, and you live the best you can."

      What we did have in Amsterdam in the winter was plenty of snow and cold. For Mom, it likely brought back (bad) memories of a "Death March" she was forced to make in the middle of one of western Europe's most brutal winters a long time ago.

     So when it snows here, in the Deep South's usually mild climate, I always think of my mother, and how she absolutely despised cold weather. When we moved from Amsterdam, she loved the change in weather. Until the rare occasions when it, yes, snowed.

       Mom would have been miserable the past few days. We're not exactly delighted.

        Looking at the weather forcast online, we have a few more days of sub-freezing temperatures, winter storm warnings, more snow possibly late today and likely Wednesday, a slight rise to above-freezing Thursday, a sunny day but still not above 36 degrees Friday, warming up and sunny Saturday and -- gloriously -- temperature highs ranging from 56 to 67 Sunday through next Tuesday. 

     The weekend can't get here fast enough, can it? The abnormally cold weather can't leave fast enough. 

     Got lots that needs to be done: exercise classes, laundry, haircut, grocery shopping.  More Louisiana track and field books to pick up and mail, more to print and have bound.  

     Need electrical power for some of that, need clear and safe roads. 

     The weather is out of our control. What is in our control, the power we do have is mental. It's challenging, but we can deal with it as long as we count our blessings.

Always time for nostalgia

 

     Let's start with this: People love nostalgia.

     I am one of those people, although I'd like to think that I very much am a "today" person. The great majority of my blogs have been nostalgic pieces.

      There are a couple of reasons why I send out (by e-mail or posts on Facebook) many photos and/or clippings from the past: 

      (1) People like them, and will react to them;

      (2) I either "share" many that are posted on my Facebook feed or that I find in researching newspaper files.

      Speaking of research, this blog has been dormant for three months, and here's why: Much of my time since mid-June has been spent working on my latest "project," which -- I hope -- will turn into a book or booklet.

      The subject matter -- Louisiana high school outdoor track and field records/results/history -- is going to interest only a certain segment. Picking up from 2004, when Jerry Byrd Sr. (Shreveport) did a book on it, and updating those records (2005-2020) plus going back in time to fill in many missing names has taken hours and hours.

      So not much time for blogging. In fact, I am interrupting the designing of pages, working (struggling) with Word and Publisher programs, to write this blog and another one that is a continuation/addition to my Dad's story (and related to the Holocaust).

      To be honest, I also have not felt much like writing about today's sports world (baseball, NFL, college football, NBA, NHL, college football, college basketball, golf). Figure there are enough opinions out there to satisfy readers' needs; you don't need or want my opinion. (And, surprise, I do have a lot of opinions.)

      You sure as heck don't want or need my opinions on politics and social issues; more than enough of that out there ... every day, every hour, every minute.

      Sorry, fed up with all of it. From all sides, incidentally.

      Tried that once a couple of months ago, with an out-of-character political opinion that, through e-mail and Facebook, was met with more than several critical "please don't do that again" messages.

      So there. Keep your opinions to yourself. Just go vote.

      OK, back to nostalgia. I can post stuff -- stories/columns, photos, etc. -- from today's world, mostly sports but also on a variety of things, such recent posts on eating fried catfish and doing a Trinity River trash pickup. Reaction to most of those is good but not resounding. 

      Well, there is one element that is gratifying. Get the most response if I post old or new Van Thyn family photos or photos of the four spectacular grandchildren.

       But what I find gets the most reaction is photos from the Shreveport high school sports heroes of the 1950s and 1960s and some into the 1970s. My Facebook and e-mail friends really do love those.

       Most of them are aimed at Louisiana readers, and many are -- of course -- Woodlawn related. But we try to mix in some Byrd, Fair Park, Bossier, Jesuit and others.

       One popular recent post: photos of four of Louisiana's best 1950s high school athletes: Billy Cannon, Bo Campbell, Charles "Cotton" Nash and Jerry Dyes.       

     This week we posted another Bo Campbell photo, taking the baton from Byrd High teammate Pat Studstill for the last leg of a 1957 mile relay. Both went from there to football stardom in college and, for Studstill, a 12-year NFL stay as a punter and wide receiver. For Campbell, a very successful business career, primarily in banking in Shreveport.

       People liked seeing this photo.

       I'm frequently asked where I find these clippings. Easy answer: newspapers.com. Having access to many Louisiana paper files (other cities/states, too) is a big plus for research, and what's helped even more recently is having temporary access to the Baton Rouge Morning Advocate and New Orleans Times-Picayne files (thanks to the East Baton Rouge Parish library).

       So while I'm researching track and field, I happen to come across some clippings and photos I think people might enjoy seeing again.

       (For much of two years, as I researched Shreveport and Northwest Louisiana pro baseball, I would post stories and photos tying into those teams and players. That material went into a book form -- That's The Old Ballgame Shreveport -- that is available online.) 

       But it is the Woodlawn posts, because so many of my old friends are from 1960s school days, that prove most popular.

        Two examples:

     -- On August 30 (again found while looking for track stuff), I came across the clippings of Terry Bradshaw and Tommy Spinks -- our great QB/receiver team signing their scholarships to Louisiana Tech, with Coach Lee Hedges (one of our all-time favorites) in both photos.

      -- On July 1, we posted a photo of Bradshaw with Coach A.L. Williams (another all-time favorite) in a posed shot on the Woodlawn track during the national-record javelin throw spring of 1966 for Terry. That photo keeps repeating on my Facebook news feed because it is so popular.

      Who knows what I'll find next. But if the Facebook and e-mail friends keep liking them, I'll keep trying ... if you don't mind.

Birthday No. 73: Happy to be here

     As I write this, it is mid-afternoon on June 16, which is a significant date in my life, as many of you know.

     Birthday and "get well" greetings have been coming in steadily in all sorts of forms. 

     Nice to have friends from all over the world. Nice of them to take a few seconds to acknowledge the birthday, and to offer good wishes.

     I am, as the headline says, happy to be here. Because it could have been different. 

     It is 27 days past open-heart surgery -- a triple bypass -- and I am on the mend. My chest is still sore to the touch, my right leg -- from which the doctors "harvested" the veins to place in my heart -- is almost rid of the deep-purple bruising and even the knots that were near the incision on the inside of my knee are not as troublesome as they were.

     We are walking a little, but not quickly, several times a day; I am eating well; my roommate of 43 years is taking good care of me with a watchful eye; I can read; I can write; and I can -- at some peril -- watch the news on TV.

     Began cardiac rehab at the hospital Monday morning, the first of at least 12 45-minute sessions and maybe as many as 36 sessions. 

     Felt good, actually, to walk on a short path for six minutes, use an elliptical machine (but without pressuring my healing sternum), to walk on a treadmill, and ride a stationary bicycle. All of it at a comfortable pace. Worked up a little sweat, which I needed to, and I look forward to increasing the efforts.

     But I vow not to push too hard too soon. Pushing too hard on long walks darned near cost me the ballgame.

     (Speaking of ballgames ... I repeat for those who have missed my posts on Facebook or e-mails, I don't care if there is major-league baseball this year or not. Let the players' union and the owners/commissioner's office battle over the billions of dollars and spare me the details.

     I can tell you that it's been a lot easier on my broken heart not to have to worry about my ballclub every day for 2 1/2 months, and I am not ready to resume that anxiety-filled habit. We'll consider football season when -- if -- it arrives.)

     Where was I? Oh, the birthday.

     If you ever have been hospitalized -- and if you haven't, bless you -- you know how many times you have to provide your name and birthdate. So, how in the heck, do you forget those? Had eight days worth of it, and just because, I tried to fake out the nurses at times. (It never works.)

     The birthday cards began arriving three days ago. Our around-the-corner neighbor, Dr. Lamar Smith, delivered in person -- and left me a shiny (fake) Lincoln penny because he didn't want to leave me his real car.

     Grandson Eli, with LSU in mind I think, drew me a tiger -- painted Tennessee orange. Granddaughter Josie drew her infamous alter-ego character, "CJ" (Cartoon Josie), delivering a balloon and birthday cake.

     So many of the residents here at Trinity Terrace took time to place a card in our in-house mailbox or slide it under our door, and one attached her note to a supply of ... toilet paper.

     Our next-door neighbor Harriette brought this hat (left).

     I am finding birthday messages in several forms -- and posts -- on Facebook. Didn't realize there was a "birthday story" site until about 30 minutes ago. 

     There already have been phone calls from friends and family, and I expect there will be more before the day is finished. A special call came from cousin Phillip in Jerusalem; that was a first. Quite a thrill.

     And, of course, the most special Facebook messages and cards came from Beatrice and Rachel, who are quite good at those kinds of gifts.

     I am wearing my new gray T-shirt with "OPA" on the front because, to my grandkids, that's who I am.

     Strange as it might sound, I am not one to relish my birthday nor the attention that comes with it. But as several people have mentioned, this was a birthday that several weeks ago we weren't certain I was going to see.      

      But it's been a good day, a fun day. 

      So, I thank you all, and hopefully I will be around for many more of these.

You don't have to send me flowers (but you did)

     Forgive me for an overall "thank you" note, rather than an individual reply. Trying to save some of my valuable time.
     We are so grateful, so appreciative for the outpouring of love and good wishes shown us in the past week.
     It makes my damaged heart feel so much better, and Beatrice wants to add how much she appreciates it, too.

     The response to the blog from earlier this week was terrific, through e-mail, Facebook and cards. We've heard from friends everywhere -- starting, of course, with our roots in Louisiana. And our fellow residents here at Trinity Terrace -- and some staff -- have been as outstanding, as we knew they would be.
     The centerpiece, as you can see in this photo set up by Bea, is this flower arrangement sent by our next-door neighbors, Karen and Dr. Dwight Beery. The delivery of those brought some tears.
     But kindness has been delivered from everywhere.
     The recovery is going to be an 8- to 12-week process, and I've never been known for patience. But as a patient, patience is a must. So I will be taking it slow and easy; not going to attempt too much too soon.
      It is, as you might feel, a sad time in America if you follow the daily news as much as we do. Could be quite depressing when combined with this slog of personal recovery that we're facing. 
      But I refuse to give in to the depression that always is possible after a major surgery. And I remain hopeful and optimistic that we as Americans and as a people world-wide will find the way, as I see it, to advance the mission of mankind -- to make life better for everyone.
      Take care. See you down the road.

    

It's the heart that counts most

          OK, about the angiogram/CABG double play and my eight-day "vacation" at Texas Health Harris Methodist Hospital, only a few blocks from here in Fort Worth ...

Here is where eight days of my life meant a repaired heart.

     Came home Tuesday afternoon, and I'm here in the apartment,  and just happy to be here.

     Lucky to be here, actually. 

     Anytime in the last year and a half could have been the end for me, really.

     But I'm here, I'm good, I'm mending, and -- doctors tell me -- that with care and better habits (eating, exercise) -- I'll be here a good while longer to bug you.

     Not looking for attention with this piece -- I get lots of attention -- and certainly not looking for sympathy. But I am here to tell you that if you have a feeling in your chest that's bothersome (or worse), get it checked ... repeatedly.

     Don't be like me, and try to play through it. Did not push hard enough to find what was going on.

     There are a couple of dozen family members and longtime good friends who know where I've been and what I've been through. The word spread around Trinity Terrace -- our seniors residency -- but not everyone here knew.

     I am not one for posting play-by-play on Facebook or e-mail, especially not on health matters. Some people do, with gory photos to add. No, thank you. 

     Choose to write and post after the fact, same as with the intestional blockage six years ago, and another eight-day stay in the same hospital. 

     That was no fun. This was worse, and more crucial.

     So about CABG. That's not cabbage (not much of a fan). That's Coronoary Artery Bypass Graft surgery. Simpler terms: open-heart surgery and, for me, a triple bypass.

     I hit a triple, and it's not baseball or a 3-point basket.

     I don't recommend it. But it was necessary, a no-choice option. You've gotta have heart, and mine was blocked, and failing.

---      

     People know that, for two decades, I have gone on long walks through streets, drive-throughs, parking lots. Started yoga classes a decade ago. More recently, I added all sorts of exercise classes -- yoga, strength training, water aerobics.

     In the last couple of years, there was this growing "discomfort," "pressure," "heavy feeling" on the left side of my chest up through my left sinus cavity and just a touch down the left arm. Happened on many (but not all) of my walks and during exercise classes. It was a distraction.

     But it was never painful, and always gone after a moment or two, or a brief stop.

     Kept thinking my issue was too much weight -- a gain of 15 pounds in a year. Felt uncomfortable, but not limiting.

     Kept telling Bea about the pressure, kept telling my doctors, and they ran me through a number of tests. It never left. I passed a stress test with surprising ease about a year ago. 

      Developed atrial fibrillation (Afib) -- irregular heartbeat, stroke-threatener -- several months ago. A cardioversion (shock) treatment worked on the first try to put my heartbeat back into rhythm. Added lots of medicines (blood-pressure, blood-thinner, etc.)

      After several long walks in April, the "problem" kept calling. But, again, it was OK after brief stops.
      Really clueless about how much danger I was in. 

      With our place pretty much locked down during the pandemic, Bea and I were taking short walks in the area. On the last day of April, a Thursday, we went about two minutes ... and I felt the pressure, and felt ill. Hurried home, went to bed, and was OK after about 10 minutes.

    Every day after that, there was a slight-to-bothersome headache and that same feeling anytime I exerted myself.

     On my annual physical and on a visit to the cardiologist within two days, I stressed the discomfort-pressure-tight feeling. The cardiologist set me up for an angiogram.

    (Crucial point here: I was going to wait until June 8 for the angiogram. But after a couple of days of nagging, Bea -- the nervous wreck who runs this apartment and has run our house and lives for 43 years -- insisted I move it up. All she did, likely, was save my life).

    The angiogram -- the diagnostic procedure to X-ray blood vessels in which a long flexible catherer is inserted through a spot in the wrist (my right one) or a thigh -- showed major blockages of 100 percent, 100 percent and 75 percent.

     Great percentages if you're shooting free throws. Related to the heart, "we found a helluva mess," Dr. Gurpreet Baweja told Bea.

---

     The CABG, delayed a day because kidney numbers weren't quite where they needed to be, was Thursday, May 21, and it was a 5 a.m. wakeup call.

     After about 6:15 a.m., I was out of it. It's a 3 1/2 to 4-hour procedure, and you come out of it with a broken chestbone, some nice incisions, bruising, and tubes and wires ... lots of tubes and wires. Glad I didn't have to see that picture.

     So, thank you, to Dr. Carlos L. Macias and his team. Imagine, they do this once or twice a day most weeks. Wow.

     In this time, we hear so much about the great things doctors and nurses do. We always know that, and we should  not take it for granted (but we do). 

      The staff at Harris Methodist, in every instance, was so damn good -- especially Dr. Macias & Co., his nurse practictioner (who gave me a booklet and printed sheets of guidelines on what to do now), and the conscientious personnel in the Intensive Care Unit (spent two days there) and on the fourth floor of the Heart Center (three days there).

     Thank you, thank you, thank you.

     Go for a CABG, and see for yourself.

     A couple of my really close friends have had bypass operations, and their guidance (by text and e-mail) was so helpful to me. And a couple of people -- my sister Elsa, and best-friend-since-sixth-grade Casey -- reached out again and again. 

---       

     I'm one of the lucky people; I have always known that and said that. This is just the latest example.

     Great family -- Bea, the two kids, the four spectacular grandkids, Elsa and all her "new" family, Bea's extended Shaw family. Great friends from all over and way back -- school, work -- at many stops in many places. Satisfying career that, looking back, I am proud of, no matter how many times I messed up. (And I did.)

      Love my Amsterdam and Holland heritage, my North Louisiana and Louisiana roots, especially love our forever hometown, Fort Worth, and the "family" we are part of at Trinity Terrace.

      Received a dozen cards from fellow residents, and our great friends Nell and Bill Gould sent a "care" package to the hospital. 

      People have been so kind, so helpful, especially our next-door neighbors (Dr. Beery, Dr. Malmstrom and Dr. Smith). 

      People offer to help in any way. Appreciate that. What can you do? Aw, heck, send money. Yeah, that's it. 

      I'm just kidding. 

      Dr. Baweja, personable and encouraging, assured me that "you will feel so much better in a few days and you will be better than ever."

      That's the intention, and I am on the way.