I love this shell. I grew up with it and for some reason, I took it when I moved out. I don't even remember doing it. I wonder if my mom misses it? There is no significance behind this shell that I can remember.
I can't remember if it came from a store, or if it came from a beach in Hawaii. But, it holds a special place in my heart. You see, there is a picture of my dad holding a Tritan Trumpet shell that he found scuba diving when we lived in Hawaii, he was a very young man. He is holding the shell, with a huge smile on his face, and someone in the picture is wearing a striped shirt... striped almost exactly like this shell. I need to find this picture.
So, in my slightly ocd, facts connecting mind, this shell reminds me of my dad. And I will always treasure it.
Do you have any objects that aren't actually heirlooms, but you treat them as such anyways because of feelings they produce for obscure reasons?
We were at a little restaurant and saw an elderly man wearing his retired vet hat with all of is service info on it. My husband went up to him and asked about it. He told us he was a front line infantryman in both Nazi Germany and the Korean War. A very nice, quiet and kind man, with a subtle pride and humbleness. We gave him our thanks and shook his hand. He and his wife were touched... so were we.
*my little brother Jae, in special ops in aviation electronics, on the way to bootcamp*
So, a giant, respectful hug and thank you to the men and women who have served, and are currently serving in the military. For those who have died, those who have been injured, those who have experienced things we could never imagine and gave up some of their freedoms, so that we could have ours. A thank you to the husbands, wives, parents and children of those who say goodbye to their loved ones and wait every day to hear if they are safe.
No matter what our personal opinions are about certain conflicts and politics, we should at the very least recognize that there are people willing to leave their families, homes, and comfort in order with the possibility of tragic ends in order to do what they feel is best for our country.
So, I salute you and hope and pray, that wherever you are in this world, that you and your family have peace.
* You may be surprised to know, that when I was 17 or 18, I was in the process of signing up for the military. I was home alone, with the recruiter sitting at my kitchen table, laptop out and I was taking some type of an entrance exam and filling out paperwork. Then, my mom walked in the door, started freaking out... and that was the end of that. Interesting how my life would have been so different had I joined.
**A few years ago, I was starting to write a book on the stories of these heroes before they passed on, never to have their stories told. I was preparing to go and interview veterans at the VA hospitals and nursing homes. Perhaps I will pick up this project again one we are settled, as time is running out. Remembering the past has always been very important to me, (many ladies played an important part as well).. Years ago, when my father was receiving treatment at the VA, we met Dan Illerich who was rescued by headhunters after being shot down in WWII, and were fascinated by his story. You can watch his story here, or see the image gallery here of the story that just aired on pbs the other day, to our surprise.
***For interesting reading, you may enjoy the short starvation experiment log by Lester Glick, that occurred in the University of Minnesota starvation experiment in 1944.
Well, Father's Day was yesterday, but I didn't get on the computer AT ALL as part of my "gift" to my wonderful hubster, he heh.
my dad as a toddler in the 50's
(my dad's dad, Grandpa James Alton Smith, who also died of leukemia before I was born).
But I did want to write a little about my Dad. He was diagnosed with Chronic Lymphacitic Leukemia when I was 6 months old. He underwent 2 bone marrow transplants, complete sterilized isolation, various rounds of chemo and radiation, a spleenectomy... He then developed squamous cell carcenoma in the face from his radiation poisoning throughout the years. He had almost all of his teeth removed, bones in his face removed as well as his upper palate in his mouth. He had exposed bone in his cheek that he covered with a thin gauze until he was healthy enough to receive a skin graft to patch the hole up that his skull peeked through.
He was fed through a feeding tube in his stomach for a couple of years and I still remember hearing him scream from the hospital waiting room the day he had it removed. So many memories. 14 different times, we were told as a family to go home and prepare funeral arrangements. 14 times.
His body was his worst enemy, a total wreck. He went almost completely blind, couldn't hardly speak, he couldn't go in the sunlight, walk, read... which was so sad because he loved outdoor sports like hiking and he was an avid reader and talker/jokester. He endured vigorous and painful excersizes to restretch his mouth with a large rubber mouth block, so he could speak a little. His frail frame wasted away. His eyes were uneven, food sprang from them like tears when he attempted to eat. He considered having one of them removed. Some people stared, even adults who knew better laughed at his Frankenstein like face, for it was horribly disfigured from all the bone removal and skin grafts over much of it. Wretched people, he didn't choose this!
But he kept on. He caught when doctors misdiagnosed him several times because he did his own studying (before the days of easy internet research.) He broke isolation by leaving his sterilized room (which can be fatal for a zero immune system patient after a bone marrow transplant) because the nurses wouldn't check him that his lungs were filling up with fluid... had he not taken that step, he would have drowned and died within minutes. He could barely lift his head or finger, he was so weak, but he knew he had to somehow get out of the bed, walk across the room and open the door to save his life. He did, then collapsed on the tile floor.
He continued writing poems and songs, he told jokes and was a master storyteller, even volunteering at children's camps. He dressed up in clown costumes and did cartwheels to make THEM feel better. He loved God and trusted in his plan, never cursed him or asked "Why me?". He accepted his challenge with fate and learned from him, perfected himself because of it throguh Christ's example. He continued on his spiritual journey and inspired so many through his struggles and sunny outlook. He was a total refined and perfected being.
His last email to the family he wrote was, "I am going to have this thing beat in June." He died June 1st 2002, and so, he DID beat it in June. His beautiful spirit was no longer confined by a broken and agonizing painfully weakened body. A nurse injected him with a dirty needle and he got MRSA in the blood. It happened at the VA... many many many horrible things happen at the VA, news and lawsuit worthy things, but you can't sue the government. His end came in the same hospital that I later delivered my two children in. I was in Utah at the time of his death. My mother called me with the news and I was in denial. I flew home to say goodbye and never looked back. His death changed me for the better, as I strive to live up to his example if I can.
he was always so cute, with such a happy grin and bright eyes
I love you and miss you, you would love my husband, you would be the best father in law and grandfather. But I know that you escorted my children's spirits here, I know you were there on my wedding day and I know you watch out for us. I love you and will see you again Daddy!
