Monthly Archives: January 2011

Dogs Detecting Cancer

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That could be the reason I have four of the darlings in my house, but it’s not.  I just happen to be one of those people who have turned my pets into one of the family.  Since studies have determined that dogs can smell cancer, maybe I should get more dogs. This is where you hear my husband scream “NO”.  He’s just not reasonable sometimes.  Back to the cancer studies.  It seems the research on the dog’s ability to detect cancer started in 1984, with doctors using urine from bladder cancer patients.    By the way, there was also normal urine involved.   Each dog was given seven urine samples to sniff (yuck).  If the dog determined the patient had cancer it would lie down by the specimen.  These were well-trained dogs, they couldn’t use my dogs.  Mine would dump the urine in the floor and bring me the bowl.

Sorry, I keep getting sidetracked.  According to the results of the study which was repeated eight times, those dogs picked the cancer patients forty-one percent of the time.  There is also a multiple cases of dogs detecting skin cancers, including  melanoma.

Melanoma is the most serious form of skin cancer. If it is recognized and treated early, it is almost always curable, but if it is not, the cancer can advance and spread to other parts of the body, where it becomes hard to treat and can be fatal. While it is not the most common of the skin cancers, it causes the most deaths. The American Cancer Society estimates that at present, about 120,000 new cases of melanoma in the US are diagnosed in a year. In 2010, about 68,130 of these were invasive melanomas, with about 38,870 in males and 29, 260 in women.

Melanoma originates in melanocytes, the cells which produce the pigment melanin that colors our skin, hair, and eyes. The majority of melanomas are black or brown, but often they can also be skin-colored, pink, red, purple, blue or white.

These statistics are directly from the Skin Cancer Foundation at http://www.skincancer.org/Melanoma/

The research is ongoing using the dogs, but there are now dogs in training as practitioners to detect cancer.  The documents I  read seemed to indicate that skin cancers were the easiest for the dogs to sniff out.

I am going to have a real problem now when someone comes to the house to visit.  If my dogs are persistent about smelling areas on a vistor, do I recommend they go to a physician to be checked, because dogs can smell cancer, uh, maybe not.  That’s my two-cents for today.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x7W_l3SSqw0

The Priceless Redwood Sequoia (Sequoiadendron)

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WYRqN1F_DxI When I read of California’s budget crunch and the possible closing of over two hundred state parks my mind immediately went to one of the most wonderful, spectacular creations on our planet.  The giant Sequoia.  I have been blessed to be able to visit these trees a few times in my sixty plus years, and I hope at some point in time that everyone can see them.  They make you feel very small in comparison, due to the fact you are.  My six-foot husband could stand upright in a hollow trunk lying on its side.  You can stand one-quarter of a mile away from one of these trees and you might get the entire tree in the frame.

When I lived in California, I could visualize all the rolling hills covered with these giants, when in actuality they had been covered with redwood trees.  Leave it to man though to strip the hills bare.  On the other side of the coin, California does have very distinctive hills.

It would be a shame for California to close their parks to the public. I guess the tourism brought to the state is not enough to help with the massive budget crisis.

I have placed some information about the trees below.  Take a look at the video (Link at the beginning) and peruse the information.  If you ever get the opportunity to see these trees, please take it.  You won’t be sorry.  That’s my two-cents for today.

As of 2009, the largest Giant Sequoia’s (all located within California) by volume are:[1][13]

Rank Tree Name Grove Height Girth at ground Volume
(ft) (m) (ft) (m) (ft³) (m³)
1 General Sherman Giant Forest 274.9 83.8 102.6 31.3 52,508 1,486.9
2 General Grant General Grant Grove 268.1 81.7 107.5 32.8 46,608 1,319.8
3 President Giant Forest 240.9 73.4 93.0 28.3 45,148 1,278.4
4 Lincoln Giant Forest 255.8 78.0 98.3 30.0 44,471 1,259.3
5 Stagg Alder Creek 243.0 74.1 109.0 33.2 42,557 1,205.1
6 Boole Converse Basin 268.8 81.9 113.0 34.4 42,472 1,202.7
7 Genesis Mountain Home Grove 253.0 77.1 85.3 26.0 41,897 1,186.4
8 Franklin Giant Forest 223.8 68.2 94.8 28.9 41,280 1,168.9
9 King Arthur Garfield Grove 270.3 82.4 104.2 31.8 40,656 1,151.2
10 Monroe Giant Forest 247.8 75.5 91.3 27.8 40,104 1,135.6
11 Robert E. Lee General Grant Grove 254.7 77.6 88.3 26.9 40,102 1,135.6
12 J. Adams Giant Forest 250.6 76.4 83.3 25.4 38,956 1,103.1
13 Ishi Giant Kennedy Grove 248.1 75.6 105.1 32.0 38,156 1,080.5
14 Column Tree Giant Forest 243.8 74.3 93.0 28.3 37,295 1,056.1
15 Summit Road Tree Mountain Home Grove 244.0 74.4 82.2 25.1 36,600 1,036.4
16 Euclid Mountain Home Grove 272.7 83.1 83.4 25.4 36,122 1,022.9
17 Washington[14] Mariposa Grove 236.0 71.9 95.7 29.2 35,901 1,016.6
18 General Pershing Giant Forest 246.0 75.0 91.2 27.8 35,855 1,015.3
19 Diamond Tree Atwell Mill Grove 286.0 87.2 95.3 29.0 35,292 999.4
20 Adam Mountain Home Grove 247.4 75.4 94.2 28.7 35,017 991.6
  • The General Sherman tree is estimated to weigh about 2100 tonnes.[15]
  • The Washington Tree was previously the second largest tree with a volume of 47,850 cubic feet (1,355 m3), but after losing over half its trunk in January 2005 it is no longer of great size.
  • The trees named “Franklin”, “Column”, “Monroe”, “Hamilton” and “Adams” were named by Wendell Flint and others, these five are now included on the official map of giant forest, where they are all situated.
  • The Hazelwood Tree (not listed above) had a volume of 36,228 cubic feet (1,025.9 m3) before losing half its trunk in a lightning storm in 2002, if it were still at full size it would currently be the 16th largest giant sequoia on earth.

Giant Sequoia superlatives

The Muir Snag thought to be over 3500 years old

Largest

  • General Sherman – Giant Forest – 52,508 cubic feet (1,486.9 m3)

Tallest

  • Unnamed Tree – Redwood Mountain Grove – 311 feet (95 m)

Oldest

  • Examples in Converse basin, Mountain home grove and Giant forest – 3500 years or more.

Largest Girth

  • Waterfall Tree – Alder Creek Grove – 155 feet (47 m) – tree with enormous basal buttress on very steep ground.

Greatest Base Diameter

  • Waterfall Tree – Alder Creek Grove – 57 feet (17 m) – tree with enormous basal buttress on very steep ground.
  • Tunnel Tree – Atwell Mill Grove – 57 feet (17 m) – tree with a huge flared base, that has burned all the way through.

Greatest Mean Diameter at Breast Height

  • General Grant – General Grant Grove – 29.0 feet (8.8 m)

Largest Limb

  • Arm Tree – Atwell Mill, East Fork Grove – 12.8 feet (3.9 m) in diameter

Thickest Bark

  • 3 feet (0.91 m) or more

Source:[1]Wikipedia

It’s Hard To Get, Or Is It?

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John Wooden at a ceremony on Oct. 14, the coac...

Image via Wikipedia

Writing this particular blog happened, because I was listening to a video made by John Wooden, who I believe was a basketball coach at UCLA.  He made me start thinking about success in writing.  I do have to tell you I am not a sports fan at all.  Up until I watched this video, I had no idea who John Wooden was.  I have placed the video on the blog so you may listen to it also.

I liked his definition of success: “Having peace of mind after doing the best you can do.”  He also said a person must have faith and patience in whatever they do in order for it to be a success.  I can agree with that sentiment, but you also have to have the works to go with it.  As a writer, I can have the faith a patience that I am going to write a book.  Unless God steps in and creates a miracle (which I don’t see happening) and the book suddenly appears.  I am going to have to start working at it, to get the book written.

As far as success, that is something each one of us will have to determine for ourselves.  My girlfriend asked me last week, when would I consider my book to be successful?  I had a tough time answering that question.  I told her, I did not know because I hadn’t gotten there yet.  I think I will recognize it when it happens.  On the other hand, I was a success at writing my book, and at getting it published.  Do I think the book is a success? No, because it hasn’t sold a million copies, and yes, because I have received so many positive reviews on “The Tower”.   Maybe the question should be, when will you consider the book to be successful?  Am I really the judge of that answer, or is the reading public?

On eHow.com, I ran across ways to measure success and I want to share it with you.

Things You’ll Need:

  • You are the Master of your own success
  • You can measure success by failure being overpowered with something good
  • You must measure by accomplishments and not failures

1.  Start by setting goals

2.  Understand your strengths and weaknesses

3.  Make preparation for the challenges of your success, and reassure yourself that you can be a success.

Tips & Warnings

  • Be positive
  • Be aggressive
  • Be productive
  • Be an achiever
  • Be aware of those hindering blocks
  • Be aware of the interests that pertain to you and your measure of success
  • Be aware to avoid negative actions
  • Be aware that time will bring on change

I would like to know what success means to you.  Since we have determine it for ourselves, there must be guidelines in your head on what you want.  I think it is a tough subject.  That’s my two-cents for today.

Good Intensions, Bad Results

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I am posting a short story I wrote a few months back, which made me go to thinking about how many times I thought I was doing something really good for myself or my family and it blew up in my face.  I am not talking about the things we do, which we know there is a chance they could go wrong.  It’s the stuff that comes entirely out of the blue that knocks you down and stomps you a little bit.  Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading my story.  I would like to have some feedback on the story.  Everyone have a blessed day, and that’s my two-cents for today.

Good intentions Bad Results

The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions.

Friday, April 16, 2010 is a red-letter day.  I have a new job, I live in my own condominium, my health is good, and my family loves me.  I have so many blessings I cannot list them all.

I have a boy friend, Andy Wilson.  He is such a loving person.  He makes me happy. I keep a smile on my face
when I am with him.  I am falling in love, and I never want it to end.  He is a man who has everything. He is wonderful, happy, smart, rich, educated; handsome beyond words, and is still single.

The doorbell is ringing. I slowly cross the floor and open the door.  “Come in, Andy”.

“Wow, you look absolutely wonderful”.  He grabs me, pulls me towards him, and kisses me.

“Dinner will be in about ten minutes, relax for a few minutes.”

“Dinner is served, sir.  We have a standing rib roast, mashed potatoes, Sautéed asparagus’, honey sweetened baby carrots and yeast rolls.  I made fresh strawberry short cake for dessert.”

“This is wonderful and I don’t want it to end.  Would you care to dance?” Andy asks.  We dance as my mind keeps telling me; this is too good to be true.

“Paula, I do not feel well. My throat feels a little tight.” “Sit down on the couch. Would you like a glass of water”?  His face was
beginning to swell, especially around his mouth.

“Andy, I need to call an ambulance for you.  You are beginning to scare me”.  I called 911, gave them the address and went
to Andy.

His respirations were fast, and he was starting to squeak when he exhaled. “What is happening to you”, I asked.  He could not answer me.   My mind is screaming, where are they, it is taking too long. I can hear the sirens. “They are almost here, Andy.  Hold on honey, please hold on”.

I followed the ambulance to the hospital.  It seemed I waited forever and then the door opened and a nurse in scrubs came to me and asked if I was the person with Andy Wilson.  I said, “yes, I am his girlfriend”.  She took hold of my hand, and said”I am so sorry, but we could not save him.”  My world went cold and black.

Andy died from anaphylactic shock.  It turns out he was highly allergic to peanuts.  I kept running our dinner repeatedly
through my mind.  Where could he have gotten peanuts with our dinner?

I went to the pantry one morning to get down my oatmeal.  My eyes scanned the shelves; I noticed two bottles of oil sitting next to each other.  One was a light corn oil and the other was, the other was, oh my God, its peanut oil.  Now I know, I killed my Andy with good intentions.

 

Unhappiness or Joy?

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When I was a young girl (more or less), I watched the Ray Bradbury Theatre on television.  I can’t tell you what one of those shows was about but, I can tell you I watched every week.  Something must have been stirring inside me at that time about writing.  It is a shame  it took thirty years for it to really activate, and for me to appreciate the skill of good writers.   I know if I had started writing back then I would be ranked with the greats by now (My arm is now broke from patting myself on the back. I’ll put it in a cast later).

Watching a video of Ray Bradbary, when he was eighty-six years old prompted me to write this blog.  He said he could not have imagined when he was a young boy, he would live to be eighty-six.  He writes consistently and constantly.  His advice to writers: “Don”t write if you are unhappy.”  I can see his point, if we are so miserable in our world, how can we write a book.  Wouldn’t the book try to drag everyone  reading it down to that level?  I also think writing could not show anything positive, such as love, friendship, kindness, ect.  Make your life full of good feelings.  As we all know those bad ones come around all to frequently.

I enjoy writing and I never thought I would say those words.  I remember all of the papers I had to write in college that was painful to do.  I guess there is something to be said about writing what I want instead of what I have to write.  When I no longer have the joy, I will stop writing.  Until that time, I plan on writing daily as I have been, whether on my book or my blog.  That’s my two-cents for today.

 

What About Our Poor?

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I just watched a video, which you can see on Wimp.com called “Immigration, World Poverty and Gumballs”.  The presenter used an ingenious method of jars of gum balls to represent the population of poor countries.  The point of his presentation was to show that the United States may be harming the poor countries of the world by letting the thinkers and doers of a what ever poor country to immigrate to the States, thus depriving the country of the possibility of that person making a difference in their own country.

The really poor of the country can’t afford to immigrate.  Mexico is just a bit different because we share a border, so if the poor can manage to get into the country, they are here.  Just not as one of the legal one million immigrants we take in yearly.

According to the presenter the poor nations are adding people faster than we as a country, could  possibly take them.  The really poor and desperate have to be helped in their own country.  I am all for helping the poor of the world, but I think our own poor should be helped first.  We have homeless families on the streets, who can’t afford food or housing.  The basic necessities of life are missing.

It is true some of these people made choices in their life which put them in the situation they are in, but what about the children.  The children did not cause the problem.  This is only one tiny segment of the poor and destitute of our country.  There is always someone.  It could be a geriatric person who can’t stay warm this winter, because they can’t  pay heat bills and buy food at the same time. There are people who if they buy food can’t pay for their drugs.  It is a vicious circle for people to numerous to count.

I know politics is involved with a lot of the aide that is dispensed to foreign countries.  It is always for humanitarian purposes, but it could be, you scratch my back and I will scratch yours.   I still believe we should take care of our own first.  That is my two-cents for today.

Ever Lasting Love (Short Story)

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I have always been blessed or cursed with being drawn to the supernatural things of this world.  I can’t put a name to it, but I know it is always with me.  The telephone will ring and I know who is calling, or I know something is going to happen before it
does.  This preference of the unknown forces of this world has caused me to experience things that have caused me great pain as well as joy.

April 1, 1992 is a day I will never forget. It starts as any other day, except it is my day off which makes it special
for me.  After I work twelve hour shifts, three or four days in a row I am more than ready for my time off.  My name is Janice Smith, and I work as a labor and delivery nurse in Greenwood Mississippi.

Today I am driving and sightseeing to just have a relaxing day.  I am going to visit the national park in Vicksburg.  I have lived in this state all my life, and I have never visited the battlefield.  I always have this unsettled feeling whenever the battlefield is mentioned around me.

I am the fourth generation from Mississippi. My great-great-grandparents owned a plantation, right in the middle of
what is now Vicksburg National Park. Back in the early 1800’s it was known as Magnolia Springs, because of the magnolia trees and fresh water from the numerous springs scattered over the land.  After the National Park Service took over the property, it became known as the Shirley House.

I visit the Park Information Center gathering information and looking at astounding pictures of men and action during the Civil War.  I leave the center starting my driving tour.  The closer I get to the Shirley House the heavier the feeling of gloom surrounds me.  I feel like someone is talking to me, but I can’t understand what is being said.

I am the only one on the road, which is a good thing because I just do not feel right.  I pull up in front of the Shirley property, get out of my car and start walking towards the house.  I can see the dugout areas in the side of the hill where the Confederate Soldiers camped and tried to defend the property.

I suddenly find myself in a ball gown on the front porch of the house.  My head is spinning and I feel very unstable on my feet.  Something is happening to me.  The world around me has changed.  I am in the same place but a different person.

“Amanda, where are you?  Amanda, there you are, what are you doing on the porch?  You should be inside dancing with your young man.  He is going to be leaving soon.  Amanda, are you all right?”

I see this woman walking towards me, and I have to assume she is speaking to me.  I actually know what is going on and who she is.  “I am not feeling well, so I stepped out on the porch for some fresh air.  All the cigar smoke in the house is making me feel faint.  This blasted corset is killing me.”

Amanda Shirley, watch your mouth.  You are a lady, and ladies do not swear.  Get your fresh air and come back inside.  You
have guests to attend to.  This is your engagement party, you know.”

“Yes mama, I will be come inside in a couple of minutes.  I want to stay on the porch with the cool breeze, and the smell of magnolia trees in the air.  This is such a wonderful time of the year.”

Mama goes into the house and leaves me alone.  I can’t imagine what our world is coming to, especially if this war happens,
as everyone says it will.  I don’t want my world to change. It is just too wonderful as it is.

I leave the front porch, and go back into the ballroom. I am immediately met by Lieutenant Patrick Allan Coker.  He looks
so dashing in his uniform.  I am fond of the bright red sash around his waist.  It makes him stand out from everyone else in the room.

He sweeps me out onto the dance floor, and we waltz, just floating in each other’s arms.  We will be man and wife in a couple of weeks, and I can’t wait.  He has been my love for as long as I can remember. He grew upon the Coker plantation, which is just up the road from where I live. We spent many hours together playing, and then later,  planning our future.

We dance until the party is over and everyone has left.  Mama and Papa have gone upstairs for the night.  A couple of the servants of cleaning things up so the furniture can be brought back out in the morning.

“Amanda, you are the love of my life, and I will love you for all eternity, I swear.  I can’t wait for you to become my
wife.  We will have such a long happy life and many children.  No one will be as happy as you and I.”

Patrick, I love you also.  Kiss me and go home, it is getting late.  I do want to get a little sleep before the sun comes up, and the air starts getting hot.  Besides I want to get out of this dress.”

Patrick kisses me good-bye, and I close the door as he mounts his horse.  I turn to start up the stairs, and the next thing I
know, I am standing at the top of the stairs in my wedding gown.  What has happened?  Am I losing my mind?

My father is at the bottom of the stairs, and has his arm out for me.  The wedding march is starting as I go down the stairs.  I walk into the parlor holding on to Papa’s arm, and he takes me to Patrick.   I am going to be his wife now.  Whatever is going on is a blessing.

Patrick and I are finally man and wife.  The pastor tells him to kiss his bride and as his lips touch mine, I find myself back in my car in my modern clothes.

Oh my God, I have to get back to Greenwood.  I am losing my mind.  I remember everything about the house and the wedding.
What am I supposed to do?  I start the car and begin driving.  I end at the Vicksburg National Confederate Cemetery.
I don’t want to go inside, but something keeps pulling me in that direction.

I drive down a couple of the gravel roads they have built between the graves. The dread gets heavier, the longer I drive.  I have to stop.  I get out of my car, and walk to my left, to the second row of stones.  I hear a scream, and I am back at the Shirley House.

I am standing on the front porch screaming as Mama and Papa comes rushing out.  I can’t even catch my breath.

“What child, what is wrong?”

“Excuse me Ma’am, but I am Corporal John Jones from the 1st Mississippi.  I just gave Mrs. Coker some bad news.  Her husband, Lieutenant Coker died last week. One of those damn Yankees shot him.  I am so sorry to have given you this news.  Please accept my condolences Mrs. Coker.  I must rejoin my regiment as we are heading north today.”

“Blessing to all of you Corporal Jones, we will keep you in our prayers,” Mama said.  “Amanda honey, come in the
house.  I will watch Junior for you, while you go upstairs and lie down.”

The tombstone reads: Lieutenant Patrick A Coker, CSA, born July 3, 1840, Died April 22, 1862.

I know I was his wife, and the war left me a widow with a child.  My ancestor wanted me to know about her life and the love she had for her husband. May they rest in each other’s arms forever.

I Think the White Race Stinks(Generally Speaking)

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Don’t get me wrong,   I love people.  I don’t care if they are pink polka dot or a lovely shade of purple.  I am a short, heavy-set lily-white woman who over the years has been ashamed of our history in dealing with other races.  I use to wonder who had it worse, the Native American Indian, who had their land ripped away, so us white folks could take over out of greed, or some other reason someone thought up.  It could have been the African-American, who was ripped away from their home in Africa, tossed on a ship, and brought to a foreign land to work as slaves for us white folks.  The fair skin folks of the past, and still some remain today, feel they are superior to anyone that has another skin color.

During the “Age of Manifest Destiny” from  about 1812 to 1860 people believed that “whites” had a notion that the whole North American Continent would speak the same language, and English-speaking people had a natural superiority.  Politics was working overtime even back during John Quincy Adams time.  He wrote his father the father the following words:  “The whole continent of North America appears to be destined by Divine Providence to be peopled by one nation, speaking one language, professing one general system of religious and political principles, and accustomed to one general tenor of social usages and customs. For the common happiness of them all, for their peace and prosperity, I believe it is indispensable that they should be associated in one federal Union”  This sentiment was called Continentalism. (Wekipedia.com)  Did that belief go a rye? We are a melting pot of many different nationalities, try to make it in this world.

I am sure this is one of the reason’s the American Indian was pushed aside, and the effort was made to change everything in there world.  I am sure there were other reasons presented by a lot of very brilliant people.

As far as slavery goes, it was founded on greed, and was wrong from start to finish.  The perceived superiority was showing through again.  I find it astonishing that God-fearing people of this nation didn’t decide this was a problem long before the Civil War did away with the concept of slavery.  I am sure some people did have a problem with it but the  power could not see it.

I am sitting in my house in Texas, on land that once belonged to Mexico.  Do I want to give it back?  No I don’t.  History has taken place or it wouldn’t be history.  I have to accept the fact that as a people we made many, many mistakes.  Some with good intentions and some with bad.  It doesn’t seem to me,  we have changed as much as we need to.  I can still see, and hear pushing and shoving to get what we want.  I am not a highly educated woman in history or politics, but if we do not take care of the people, no matter what their race, what good are we doing?  That is my two cents for today.

The Knights and the Basketball

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My husband is an active member of the Knights of Columbus with our parish, here in Plano.  The Knights have always made an effort to find activities for the young people.  Today they had a “Free Toss Basketball” competition.  They had announced it in the church bulletin, at the school and had sent out flyers to the neighborhoods.  They had one child show up and were so disappointed.

When my husband asked me what I thought, I told him.  I think the children of today lead very busy lives.  They have all kinds of afterschool activities, and the weekends are also covered over.  Just ask any parent of a school age child.  I am not sure kids are into basketball toss anymore.  Give them a competition with a video game and see what happens.

I no longer have school age children, but I do see my grandchildren and how “techno” they are.  My youngest grandson is a marvel on the WII games and his sister is right there with him.  The activities for our young people have changed, but I don’t see our parish making any changes.

There is a lot of participation in the Soccer Challenge the Knights have, but it seems to me, that is a very popular sport with the youth of today.  There is not a lot of activity with the Soccer Challenge.  It entails kicking a ball though certain holes in a net to get points.  The winner scored the most points.

What else do kids of today like to do besides video games and soccer?  I am looking for suggestions that would be appropriate for a church activity.  That’s my two-cents for today.

The Thornbirds and Aging

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I bet you are wondering how The Thornbirds relates to aging.  It is by association only and I will tell you how.  This morning I was reading a blog and it mentioned doing a blog on movies that we own.  One of my favorite movies is “The Thornbirds” with Barbara Stanwyck, and Richard Chamberlain.

Thinking about that movie, prompted me to remember the scene at the birthday party where Mary Carson is trying to get Father de Bricassart to kiss her.  Mary tells him her body may be seventy-five (just guessing) but in her mind she is still a young woman with all the same needs and desires.

I feel that one scene says so much about life and ageing, at least for me.  I am sixty-one years old and I feel the same way.  My brain still thinks, and feels like I am twenty-five but my body definitely says I’m sixty-one.  I am a lot smarter than I was a twenty-five (thank goodness), but nothing has been taken away from my mind.

When I was a young lady, working in long-term care, I would care for people, and ask myself what would be better, to lose your mind, and keep a fairly healthy body, or to lose the body and have a totally intact mind.  I have reached an age where I have made a decision.  I choose to keep a healthy mind.  I want to know what is going on around me or in other words I want to see life for as long as I can.  When my quality of life is gone, then take my brain so I don’t know anything.  Honestly, I want the good Lord to call me home before I get into that position.  unfortunately it is something we have no control over unless you choose suicide.  As far as I am concerned suicide is not an option.  Suicide is a copout on life.

Some people let their mind age out of choice.  They choose not to expand their knowledge about anything.  They want to sit in that rocker and wait to die (another copout).  My dad is eighty-five years old and he certainly doesn’t fit in that category.  He keeps up with politics and everything going on around him.  He still goes out and climbs on a tractor to take a round bale of hay to the cattle.  His body has lots of aches and pains but he keeps moving, and keeps his mind active.  If the good Lord lets me reach eighty-five, I hope he lets me do as well.

My question to you is; Do you want your mind or body to live the longest, if one has to go before the other?  That’s my two-cents for today.