Lest We Forget

Today, America celebrates Memorial Day. While there is ever-increasing focus on the military, I'd like to take a moment to also note - and thank - others who give life and limb for the sake of others. 

Firefighters, both paid and volunteer, who are the primary responders to fires, accidents and many other calls, ranging from routine to bizarre.

They put their life on the line many times, from entering blazing buildings, to working at roadway accidents on rainy nights, to entering icy water.

In addition to helping fellow man, they are also called to rescue animals from family pets, to farm livestock, to a wide variety of wildlife.

Some leave loved ones in the middle of dinner or the dead of night to answer the call, and never come home again... 

Police, both paid and auxiliary volunteers, put themselves at risk, from high-speed chases, to gunfire-fights, from domestic fights, to bomb responses, from mass evacuations, to search and rescue.

Officers are killed in line of action; also when they simply walk to help a disabled motorist and are struck by a distracted driver. 

EMT, Paramedics and ambulance crews are mostly volunteers across this country. They also put themselves at risk on a regular basis. They speed through traffic, where cars jump out into their way; they work roadside at accidents with cars whizzing past.

Many don't realize these dedicated men and women also go into very dangerous situations, such as rescuing some over the side of a cliff. They enter dangerous neighborhoods to help the fallen or sick. I didn't realize the extent of danger until a NYC Paramedic friend walked up in bullet-proof vest. On calls where someone was shot, the bullets are still flying when they arrive...


Rescue Workers/First Responders include those who go into danger immediately following a tornado, flood, hurricane, tsunami, earthquake or similar. They brave collapsing debris, churning waters and/or flames to help complete strangers.

In times of emergency, often these people are NOT trained emergency responders, but simply caring hearts who first arrive on the scene and realize that someone needs help!

And the most important...

The Peacemakers and Those who stand up for the rights of others, especially those who do so at the cost of their own lives. The news reports deaths in other parts of the world where people die protesting against unfair or inhumane laws or leaders. We in US should not forget our own similarly fallen.

Our largest generation, the Baby Boomers, lived through and should not forget the 1960's, where many people ~ men and women, black and white ~ died simply because they stated in words and non-aggressive actions that segregation is WRONG.

Some, likewise, died on US soil while protesting for Peace during a time of war.

On this Memorial Day, in addition to fallen military, may we especially remember those who have NEVER raised a hand to harm another, but lost life or limb in helping others and in making this a better world. Not just those in the US, but those all around the world...

In Memoriam

- ESA

Memorial Weekend Memory (True Story)

On Memorial Day weekend in 2010, I had a fun adventure I'd like to share with my readers. While I hope to share the smiles, I also hope one can see how one can be guided to help another anywhere, any time, in more ways than we may realize.

That year, my husband and I decided to spend the long weekend apart; he'd do things that he liked, and I'd drive out to visit friends of mine in Northeastern PA. For some reason, my boss decided to let the employees leave by noon that Friday. So, given that I wanted to avoid the holiday traffic on the drive from New England, through New York State to the Northeastern corner of PA, I found myself heading out a few hours before my planned time.

While I plan things, I love improvidence too. So I decided on the drive out to stop by for a surprise visit with other friends in Carbondale, PA before I went to the home of the friends I had planned to visit out in Wayne County. After all, I had quite a few hours to kill before my anticipated arrival of 9 pm that evening.

I was on the "new highway" (Route 6) where it bypasses downtown Carbondale when I happen to notice a broken-down car, a group of four people, and the tow-truck driver with his truck. So, given I was only minutes from where my friend lived and knew the neighborhood intimately (as I had lived there a number of years myself), I stopped to see if they needed a lift.

It turns out, the four young (18-21 years of age) people were on their way from Brooklyn, NY to some camp in Wayne County PA when their car broke down. As the tow-truck driver only had room for one person, I took the other three and, knowing the location of the tow-truck's shop, said we'd meet them there.

At the garage, they were disheartened to discover that the fix was not an easy one. The car would not be ready for a couple of days as the part needed to be ordered. It was amusing and sad to watch as they tried offering more and more money to get the mechanic to fix the car sooner. They didn't understand that the part really was NOT there in the shop, and no amount of bribing would get them on the road sooner. I also had to argue with the youths several times that the people working on their car were honest; that almost everyone in that area was honest and hard working. They were not "trying to pull a fast one." Ironically, I later discovered the reason their car stopped working was because the young driver didn't believe HIS mechanic in New York when he was told they needed more coolant for the engine; so they cooked it on the drive to PA...

They called several people they knew at this camp, and, to their dismay, discovered only one who would give them a ride from Carbondale to the camp - for $300! Both the tow-truck driver and I were horrified by this, and we both offered to give them a ride. Wayne County was just "over the mountain" and not worth $300 in gas. The tow-truck driver, however, has an appointment near Scranton, first, and could drive them out in his car afterward. It would be another two hours before he returned.

It turns out, the youth couldn't wait that long as they needed to be at the camp by sunset, for religious observations. So, I loaded all four and an amazing amount of luggage for just a weekend into my Jeep with myself. I noted, though, as I'm playing a manual version of 3-D tetris with the four youth and their belongings, that if my husband HAD been with me on this trip I would never be able to help them now. I had only myself and one bag and we barely squeezed in with stuff on everyone's laps save mine.

The next several hours were interesting, especially given that a point-to-point drive should have only taken a half-hour or less.

First, the youth discovered that technology is only as good as the signal; and there was absolutely NO AT&T signals in northern Wayne County then. My Verizon cell was iffy at best, but I only own a cheapie flip phone, with no GPS or internet like their newest iPhones had. And my '99 Jeep was far older than that. Thus with the GPS and internet maps gone, I asked them for directions as we navigated the rural back roads past cows, woods and open pastures that looked quite reminiscent of Farmville to them. They tried to decipher some limited directions via email but kept referring back to the last GPS coordinates they had. We finally get to the bottom of the email where it read, "Do not use GPS coordinates as they will not get you to the camp."

So, about 3 miles south of PA's northern border, I pull the car aside and ask the young woman in the passenger side to pull out one of many PAPER maps I had of PA. I wish I had taken a picture of the look on her face at that moment. No one considered the antediluvian method of looking at a paper map to find where they are and where they want to go! Worse, when I read off the cross-roads of the two rural route numbers where we had stopped, plus the last "four-corners" town we passed before, she didn't have a clue how to read the map. So I spent the next five minutes teaching four "kids" how to read a paper map, how to find where we were, and an approximation of where we need to go, knowing the name of the private camp will not be listed on the map.

It turns out we had gone about 20 miles too far north, and while turning around, discovered they had entered the wrong "Lakeville" into the GPS. So we drove back to the nearest four-corners, which had an open-air Bar-B-Que. I pulled in and suggested we get out and get some directions. There was a bit of hesitation, which I didn't understand right away. But when I started to get out, one of the young men bravely leapt from the Jeep and ran ahead of me. I approached the nearest table just in time to hear the last of the directions. ".... then once you pass the church, it's the next left, if you come to the fire house, you've missed it."

This was vague but typical directions from the area. There was no street name, also typical. I asked the young man if he understood the directions and could get us there; he nodded. We were off again. Twenty minutes later, we found the turn, which turned out to the be back road into the camp, but it wasn't marked on the paper map. Thus, my four passengers were VERY uncomfortable with taking this unpaved, unknown road that disappeared very quickly into dense wooded area like something out of a Blair Witch movie. So I continued with our map toward where we believed the front entrance to the camp is.

 It was then that my Jeep pointed out that I have very lousy gas mileage and, as I last filled the tank in New England, she was pinging me to remind me to feed her.

Aware that I had limited range, and the nearest gas station known to me was Honesdale, about 20 minutes south of the camp, I took matters into my own hand. I saw a house where there was a pick-up in the driveway and the inner front door was open. I pulled into the driveway, much to the dismay of my passengers and marched up to the front door. They rolled down the windows and called from safety of the Jeep that I was insane to walk up to a stranger's house like this. While I also grew up under the shadows of New York City skyscrapers and understood their fears, I also lived a decade in this part of the world and knew the people here. I was fine.

An old lady called out for me to enter, and my passengers nearly had a conniption as I opened the screen door and calmly let myself in. Remarkably, I had chosen just the right place to stop. While they did not recognize the name of the camp, the old man was once a volunteer firefighter in the area. While he only knew the local roads by local name, the old lady pulled out a detailed map. Voila! We were able to see the property marks of the camp and backtracked down the local roads to where we were. So I now had very accurate directions, which I wrote down with a pencil and piece of paper the old lady was kind enough to provide.

The next ten minutes were the most amusing of all. I was able to follow detailed turn-by-turn directions, right down to barn silos and major bumps in the road. The youth were amazed that someone not only let a stranger into their home - an old defenseless couple at that! - but gave such great directions without asking for money. In addition, they kept asking me, at every "ping" from my low-fuel warning system, what happens if I run out of gas. They realized - with growing dread - that the last time they saw a gas station was way back in Carbondale. They could not grasp the fact that a stranger would not only stop to help us if we ran out of gas, but would most likely give us some gas so we could get to the nearest station.

The bigger issue would be they had a time deadline, and there was no guarantee we'd be able to get them to the camp before sunset if I ran out of gas. The sun's angle was getting quite low; we were cutting this close. I didn't need them to worry more, so I simply kept telling them, "have a little faith."

On the final stretch, we encountered several other cars pulled on the sides of the dusty unpaved road, while one person or another was out of the car holding up their iPhone or similar device trying to get a signal that wasn't there. The youths and I told them, car by car, "Follow us, we have the good directions." By the time we pulled through the gates of the camp, we had nine other cars following us, and many happy people who all needed to be there before sunset.

As the youths, thanked me, they asked for my FaceBook or Twitter account so they could "friend" me. I didn't give them my FaceBook name, and was a bit hesitant to give them my Twitter name as well. But, just as I was pulling away, a bit of mischief tugged at the corner of my mind and I thought, why not... I pulled aside, jotted my Twitter account on a piece of paper, drove back and handed it to them.

I knew they were young Jews, and this was a Jewish camp; the Hebrew letters at the camp's entrance confirmed that as much as the yamakas on the two young men. But that really didn't matter as I was just one human being helping another, a "Good Samaritan" one would say. My young passengers took the slip of paper and read it. And as I drove away, I wondered if they would recall their adventures to others that night around a campfire. And when asked who helped them, they may or may not say that I'm @JesusSister on Twitter. :D

In case you're wondering, yes, I somehow managed to get to Honesdale for gas. It was after sunset (about 8:30pm) by then. While I was pumping gas, my friend who was expecting me called to see if I was nearby and if I wanted dinner. I arrived just a few minutes before 9pm - the expected time.

~ Had I not gotten out early
~ Had I not gone without my husband
~ Had I not previously lived in that area
~ Had I not, on a whim, decided to visit a friend
~ Had I not made plans to arrive late that night at another's
~ Had I not randomly stopped at that particular house for directions
~ Had I not had faith in God and other good hearts of the people there

None of this adventure would have happened as it unfolded.
But I'm glad it did.

- ESA

Squish Humor

This is a humorous story I've seen by email, online and taped to the back of the door where I get my mammography. I wanted to share it with my readers as humor... not as a suggestion (especially the ending).

There was a lengthy battle with my nerves after hearing horror stories from my friends. I never had a mammogram, and at 35 everyone said I just had to do it. I actually kept my appointment.

I chose a seat next to a man and his wife in the waiting room. Both the chairs and conversations were so comfortable that before long, I'd forgotten why I was there and asked the man, "So, what are you here for?" Talk about a show stopper.

Dead silence filled the room just as "Nurse Ratchet" stepped out to announce my name. I rushed past giggles, hurrying after the 'angel of mercy'.

Rounding the corner, I was met with, "Hi! I'm Belinda!" This perky clipboard-carrier smiled from ear to ear, tilted her head to one side and crooned, "Alllll I need you to do is step into this room right hereee, strip to the waist, thennn slip on this gown. Everything clearrrr?"

I'm thinking, "Belinda, try decaf. This isn't rocket science."

But before I could say a word, Belinda skipped away to prepare the torture chamber.

It's crazy; the machine transforms a perfectly healthy cup size of 36-B to a size 38- LONG in less than 60 seconds. 

Also, girls aren't made of sugar and spice and everything nice... it's Spandex! We can be stretched, pulled and twisted over a cold 4-inch piece of square glass and still pop back into shape.

With the left side finished, Belinda flipped me (literally) to the right and said, "Hmmmm. Can you stand on your tippy toes and lean in a tad so we can get everything?"

"Fine," I answered. I was freezing, bruised, and out of air, so why not use the remaining circulation in my legs and neck to finish me off?

My body was in a holding pattern that defied gravity (with one boob wedged between two 4-inch pieces of square glass) when we heard and felt the 'ZAP'!

There was complete darkness as the power went off.

"What?" I yelled.

"Oh, maintenance is working. Bet they hit a snag." Belinda chirped happily as she headed for the door.

"Excuse me! You're not leaving me in this vise alone are you?" I shouted.

Belinda kept going and said, "Oh, you fussy puppy... the door's wide open so you'll have the emergency hall lights. I'll be rightttt backkkk."

Before I could shout, "NOOOO!" she disappeared.

And that's exactly how Bubba and Earl, maintenance men extraordinaire, found me, half-naked with parts of me dangling from the 'jaws of life' and the other part smashed between glass!

After exchanging polite, "Hi, how's it going" type greetings, Bubba (or possibly Earl) asked, to my utter disbelief, "Did you know that the power is off?"

Trying to disguise my hysteria, I replied with as much calmness as possible. "Uh, yes... yes I did, thanks."

"You bet, take care," Bubba replied and waved good-bye as though we'd been standing in line at the grocery store.

Two hours later, Belinda breezes in wearing a sheepish grin and making no attempt to suppress her amusement. She said, "Oh, I am sooooo sorry! The power came back on and I totally forgot about you! And silly me, I went to lunch. Are we upset?"

And that, your Honor, is exactly how her head ended up between the clamps....

Squish!

As the caption reads, "Yes, I did have my mammogram today." Or as I like to joke among the ladies at work, "I took a break from the office to go SQUISH!"

Between my personal biology and family history, I've a number of medical "factors" that create high breast-cancer risk, so I dutifully go at least once per year - often once every six months, as they continually find new and exciting things in those black and white images - starting with my baseline when I was 35 years old.

Am I worried that I'll get breast cancer? No.

Odds are I will get it. It's a matter of when rather than if. But I'm not worried at all. Really!

My mother, in her 70's, is a breast cancer survivor, both breasts; she was diagnosed in her very early 40's. It's actually one of the most treatable forms of cancer; one just needs to go for checkups and routine exams. The earlier anything is caught, the better the chances. The rest is all about attitude!

Do I have it now? I don't know. The tech saw something this morning, and I now await the official "letter" to let me know if they want me to follow up the breast surgeon (again).

There are women that panic and swear they are going to die from the minute anything remotely suggests breast cancer. This is even before the first biopsy. In my family, we look the doctor in the eye and say, "OK. What are we going to do about it?"

If something does come of this newest malformation, God, family and friends will see me through. I may suffer for a time; I may become sick. I may loose my hair. But it is something I can live through.

I can get through acute chronic pain and sickness; the last few years have proven that. If anything, my biggest worry would be: How do I cover my workload while going through treatments?

What if something were to go wrong? What if the treatment doesn't work? What if the cancer spreads?

What if I die...?

Should I even bother to worry about this? After all, I could get hit by a car walking home today with the same results. I try to live every moment as if it's my last. I believe I am prepared, like the ready bride. And if I die, should I be worried? I have a pretty good idea where I am going...

No I am not worried. I understand that worry is a part of fear. I know that Fear is a tool of the adversary to hinder our spirits. I do not fear this - at all. But I have seen devastating results when people do fear it.

But I look fear in the eye and laugh at it!

Let's see how far they can turn my double-D's into pancakes before they squish out the other side of the machine. :P

They have already stretched over the years...

~ ESA

Goddess Blessings

At a convention, my husband paused to converse with a new face. At the end of their discussion, the man smiled and parted saying, "May the Goddess Bless you."

My husband smiled broadly and replied, "May God Bless you too."

Too often people take affront to a beautiful Blessing offered when they realize that the sender does not follow the same religious beliefs. Instead of seeing what it truly is, they treat it like a curse and trample it under their feet.

Some people follow the Blessing with curses of their own. Some coldly turn and storm away. Several Christians follow this with a string of bible quotes used as spears.

This is not how any of us should treat our brothers and sisters.

Few realize that if one studies our Judaic roots, one finds several names of God, including the female "Shekhinah." There are pluralistic names as well. God is NOT just male, nor just female, but neither and both at the same time. God's very nature IS a paradox from our perspective.

My husband did the right thing in that situation. He saw what the man offered as it is - a heartfelt Blessing from the highest source the person knows. In turn, my husband offered the man the same.

May Blessings be yours each new day

May Divine Love always flow your way

~ESA

Second Chance

While Human Resources members may joke that employees can drive us to drink, the truth is many have to deal with the issues that alcohol brings to the workplace. This is a true story shared by an HR collegue.

At a manufacturing facility, alcohol is not only detrimental to the work quality, it takes lives. When she had an employee with a serious drinking problem, she had to take action.

All managers, and even the company President, wanted this person fired.

When she had "the talk" with the employee, however, she discovered that the onset of abuse was immediately after the death of a child, followed by an abandonment by a spouse. And now this employee of sixteen years will loose a job.

This HR person then did something unprecedented at the company. She got the President to extend a second-chance plan to the employee. The employee had six months leave to go through a rehabilitation program and then see how things went upon return to work.

If this didn't work, however, the HR person would need a new job as well.

In six months, the employee was back on the job, performing better than ever. There was a new lease on life. Within a year, the person became the company's model employee.

The company became known as one that really takes care of its employees and referrals poured in faster than job openings. Turnover dropped to an all-time low, even in the dregs of monotonous manufacturing work.

That second-chance employee brought a new positive attitude to the job, and it became contagious. Soon, new orders blossomed as their defects, rejections and quality claims plummeted to all-time lows.

The employee was awarded many accolades and achieved promotions in time as well, not once forgetting that "one more chance" given.

We can all change a life

Looking past the strife

~ESA

 

Beneath the Cover

In 14 years of Human Resources, I've collected my share of stories about candidate interviews.

I've seen a job applications completed in lipstick, eye liner and even a green crayon, despite there being pens in the reception area.

I've had a young man take out his cell phone, initiate a call to his friend, have a 20 minute conversation (during a 30 minute interview), and then ask if he got the job.

But the most memorable is the following story:

As a Recruiter at one company, I found the perfect candidate for an managerial position. Every one of the senior staff agreed after several phone interviews. His references were top notch. We hired him and asked when he could start.

The Texan said he and his wife could be in Connecticut to start his job Monday. They arranged for a local hotel to stay until they found a place, and headed out.

Monday came; the new hire didn't show.

He didn't call.

He didn't answer his cell phone.

On Tuesday, he was still a "no show."

By Wednesday, I had no choice. I called the "Number 2" candidate and gave him the job.

We all wondered what happened to the first choice. In the end, we concluded that he got a better offer elsewhere and we would never hear from him again.

Nearly a month later, the receptionist transfers a call into my office. "It's the no-show asking if the job is still open."

I was a little irked that he had the nerve to call after all this time of silence. I used my "official HR" voice to explain that since he didn't show, nor call, nor answer his phone, we gave the job to someone else. 

Then he told me why he didn't show that Monday...

Somewhere in Virginia, on the drive from Texas to Connecticut, his car was struck in a head-on collision with a truck. He had been in a coma all this time. His wife is still in the hospital.

He had the paperwork from the police, doctors and hospital ready to testify this was the absolute truth.

Now that he was out of work with massive amounts of medical bills, he was willing to take any job. It didn't have to be the manager's position, just any job to help pay the bills. I could hear him choke up begging me for a job.

Unfortunately, I had no job to give him...

There are times when we hear something completely different than what we expect to hear. We go into a situation belieiving we know the whole story.

There could be a different story beneath the cover.

What is under the cover

Of each person we find

Take time to listen

To find story behind

~ESA

Womanhood Day

This week's TV and radio have mentioned Mother's Day non-stop ~ at least it seems that way to me.

Mother's Day has become a Blessing and a curse. On one hand I am fortunate enough to have my mother and god-mother still alive. (My dad passed away years ago; I haven't seen my god-father since my Baptism as an infant.)

On the other hand, my only pregnancy ended in a miscarriage that hemmoraged so badly I nearly lost my life. Several years later, I was told it would be life-threatening to get pregnant again. Within a year, malformations and growths led to a complete hysterectomy. My "ovaries" are now a daily chemical through my skin; half my vagina is gone. I couldn't feel less like a mother.

We tried to adopt, for we love kids and wanted to share our lives with them. At $25,000-$50,000 per child, standard adoption was beyond our means.

We worked with DCF, as they cover the adoption costs. We planned to adopt an older child or sibling group, as many are left behind when parents desire an infant. We reached the point where they see the place the kids would reside. We cannot afford a large enough space to meet DCF's requirements. :*(

We are still in that tiny apartment, and my nieces and nephews have grown up. There's no more visitors to steal the freshly-baked cookies, ask for help with their homework, or invite us to their school show.

In short, while I wish all the mothers out there a Happy Mother's Day, my heart goes out to mothers-that-cannot-be.

Some women hurt each time we hear how "motherhood is the epitome of being a woman" or that "motherhood is God's greatest calling for a woman." Perhaps it is for SOME women, but not all.

God also created women who cannot be mothers, for one reason or another. God's plans for these women are no less important.

So on this festive weekend celebrating a fertility that I will never have, I wish to all my sisters out there:

HAPPY WOMANHOOD DAY!

There is a LOT more to being a woman than just being able to raise children.

~ ESA

Burying Hatred

In past two days, my ears caught a news story that a fellow Nutmegger offered a family plot gratis to bury the body of Tamerlan Tsarnaev, as the funeral home tending the body cannot find a place that would accept it for decent burial.

The one condition Paul Keane requested is that it be done in memory of his mother, who taught Sunday school. Among her teachings was Christ's message: Love your enemies.

There has been much outcry and protest about this particular burial. Tamerlan can no longer do us any harm; he has already met his Maker and faced the only true Judgement there is.

Why do people still attack the corpse like a pack of feral dogs? Have we become like the terrorists we abhor?

The funeral home has come under attack, and Keane has also since his noble offer. I wonder, have the acts of terror instilled such hatred and fear into our hearts? This Nation was founded on Christian values.

When Christ came into this world, there was no room for Him. He was born where they kept the animals.

When Christ died as a criminal, there was no tomb for him. But Joseph of Aramathea, whose heart was touched by Yeshua / Jesus, offered his own unused plot to bury the body.

Would these same protesters hurl insults at the innkeeper and Joseph, and insist that no one should do business with them again because of the Compassionate acts?

I am not saying Tamerlan is anything like Christ. But I am saying that Keane's offer and the funeral home's efforts are based on Love and Compassion that Christ inspires.

Both are following in the steps of Joseph of Aramethea, helping a distraught mother to see her son's body decently buried.

The King will reply, "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."                      (Matthew 25:40)

"I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these, my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me." (Matthew 25:45)

Which to follow

Love or hate?

This is choice

We all must make

~ ESA

Elementary, Mr. Watson

Today my husband and I attended our first Men on the Tor event. It's a group that enjoys the Sherlock Holmes stories written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, one of my husband's favorite authors.

Today's event was at a State Park called "Devil's Hopyard" but the devil seemed to be quite far. The sky was so clear that near the end of the event the coordinator pointed to the only wispy cloud that marred the blue dome overhead - the only cloud seen the whole time.

While we sat with the group at the picnic, I was prompted to look around and really take it all in. Sherlock Holmes was known for his keen observation, after all.

There were many people in the park: hiking, biking, playing catch, eating, running, playing, laughing... even romancing.

There was life all around, from giggling toddlers to smiling seniors. I even saw a middle-aged woman drawing with chalk on the pavement.

When Christ lived here, He was aware of all around Him; children brought Him delight.

I had a smile moment too, when one barged into the toilet with a broken lock. Without embarrassment, she simply closed the door and called to her mom that there was some lady in there. The sweetness of innocence. :D

On Monday I need to be in the office at 6:30 am to move all the furniture back and rewire the office after the painters came through this weekend. Then I have a long work day after that. 

All too quickly, this world with its responsibilities, schedules, requirements and demands intrudes into our Peace.

How do we deal with it all?

Elementary, my dear. Take the time to refresh ourselves. Even if we cannot visit distant parks between meetings, we can still take a five-minute break in prayer ~ anywhere.

God can deliver some of that refreshment to the place where we are ~ anytime.

And God doesn't expect tips.

~ ESA