BIRTHDAY FOR A BROTHER

  My older younger brother just had a milestone birthday.  
(I am the oldest of three brothers; he's the second one, so doesn't that make him my 'older younger brother' ?) At any rate, this week he had THE birthday . . . 75 . . .  that some gerontologists say is the demarcation line separating us from the 'young old' . . . which is the category in which our 'baby brother' at 67 currently resides.  Neither of the three of us can quite fathom how we arrived here so quickly.

   I have a clear memory of riding with our parents and Uncle Frank Durham on the day he came home  from his birthing hospital.  However, I remember only through  hearing repetitive parental narrative how, in time, I allegedly inquired as to when they were  'going to take that kid back to the hospital?'

They decided to keep him

Even though our growing up years were "a while back", there are lots of memories that provide retelling of old stories whenever we are together.  

In high school, Den excelled in athletics.  At UNC Chapel Hill, he was pre-med and after Internship, did his Residency in Orthopedics  at Yale-New Haven Hospital.  There is a kind of stereotyping of medical specialist according to personality and temperament.  Whether correct or not, Orthopedics is the domain of athletic types and Den fit the profile, being the physically strongest and most athletic of the brothers.

UNC undergrad

After spending time practicing 'Army medicine', including a year at Saigon General Hospital,  Den spent his entire medical career in New Hampshire.  He arrived there by the circuitous route brought on by needing a job after his college Freshman year.  I asked the owner of the boys' camp where I had spent a couple of Summers if he would hire my brother.  While there, he met Irena, a Syracuse University undergrad, whose family owned a nearby summer cottage.  And, as the saying goes, "the rest is history".  They raised three remarkable and accomplished children and are now the doting grand-parents of six --- three boys and three girls. He retired a couple or so years ago and spends time traveling, catching up on missed golf games and enjoying their place on Lake Winnepesaukee.

1965

Newly weds with younger version of older brother in background

50 years later 

Soon to be Major with wife and oldest child, ca. 1970

One story that is often retold is how he scared the bejeebers out of a camper who had been exiled to the lakeside while the other kidders were preparing for bed.  My brother put on his sunglasses, trench coat and army helmet liner and was sneaking up on the young hellion.  The kid saw Den at the same time that a loon cut loose with a cry.  I was 500 yards away in center camp and I heard the scream.  The Head Counselor ... 50  + years to my 22 ... outran me down the beach to the scene.  

While our parents paid for the two of us to have piano lessons, neither of us has musical talent. For that matter, neither of us can carry a tune in the proverbial bucket, that talent having gone to the youngest brother.   Several years ago,  he attended a Bluegrass concert and at intermission asked the band leader if they would sing Life's Railway to Heaven, an old Gospel song.  The man replied, "We don't sing no spirichul songs."  Subsequently, I made a recording for him that included every version that I could locate.

Now we get together primarily at family Thanksgiving gatherings.  He lives too far away.  He dislikes North Carolina's Summer Swelterings and has acclimated to New Hampshire Winters.  

When he and his family are here this coming Thanksgiving, no doubt some of the same old stories will be told again (to use dad's long ago phrase) for the 'fortyleventhbluemillionth time'.  But then, old stories are a kind of mortar that help bond folks together.

"The Way We Were" . . .   3 brothers ca. 1962

"The Way We Are" ... Thanksgiving 2015

So, "Happy 75",  'Little Brother' and 'Welcome' to this phase of the journey.

                                  Satchel

SADIE'S LEMONADE STAND

   Did you have  a lemonade stand when you were young?

  Well, this is a story about a special lemonade stand and the young 'mastermind' behind it.  Sadie is our niece's twelve year old daughter who is a bundle of energy, accomplishments and kindness.
An "A Honor Roll" student, she also excels as an athlete on community softball and basketball teams.  She and her older sister, Abby, have won numerous awards and recognitions as members of a dance/gymnastics troupe.  However impressive these endeavors are, it is her 'kind heart' that is especially endearing.

    Given her energy and creativity, we were not surprised when the above picture appeared on social media last night.  The 'surprise' came when we learned the reason for her entrepreneurial endeavor.
. . . more about that momentarily.  This morning wanting to support her initiative, we drove the few miles to her 'business'.  What we experienced far exceeded the usual table, chair, pitcher and cups that are the staple of juvenile lemonade businesses.

    

"The Boss (in yellow shirt) and her Assistants"

While the idea had originated with Sadie, she had enlisted the help of her parents, her siblings (Luke and Abby), and several friends. I counted five other youth actively assisting her. As the above picture suggests, this was no 'small-time' operation.
And, when we left, we saw this advertisement at an intersection about a quarter of a mile away :

Discussing our experiences and observations afterwards, it seemed to us that several good things were occurring at the lemonade stand.

There was a strong spirit of cooperation among the youth and Daddy Steve was strongly encouraging the efforts by painting and erecting the large sign in the above picture.  No one was  distracted by an electronic device and no unkind words were spoken.  Regardless of the size of their orders, customers were treated respectfully.  The responsibilities of accepting payment and making correct change proceeded smoothly for these young merchants.  As the end of summer vacation nears, these youth undoubtedly could have been enjoying another trip to the pool.  And . . . here is the remarkable part:

They were raising money not for themselves but to assist someone facing a major health and financial situation.

Sadie's 'cash register'

A friend of Sadie's mom recently received a diagnosis of an auto-immune disorder that has caused the loss of her liver and the incurring of extraordinary expenditures.  Without insurance, the family already has medical bills in excess of forty thousand dollars and further expensive procedures remain.  (To learn more, go to Jamie Boisvert's "Go Fund Me" site.)

Sadie's lemonade business occurred because she decided to help someone in need.  At the end of 'the business day', the lemonade stand had generated $253.50.  

No doubt, that caused her to leap for joy  !

Satchel

"HOTTER 'N . . . "

. . . In the event you do not decipher the Southern  drawl . . . the  post title can be translated  "Hotter than . . . ", leaving it up to your personal comparison to complete the sentence.
Nominees that I have heard over the years include: "Hell"; "Hades": "Blue Blazes"; "Whiz Bang"; "a Firecracker", and there are others that will not go into this overall "G" rated blog.

    The heat at this time of the year seems to be a consistent theme in my writing.  Maybe it's a not so subtle way to honor the Winter-time promise of not complaining about Summer-time heat.  Noting or indicating are not the same as complaining, are they?  So here we are in almost mid-August, the time of year that my New Hampshire brother has pledged to remain at some distance from his home state.  The forecast high temp today was only 89* F but in mid-afternoon, I saw 96* on a sign.

  (And as I think of fahrenheit, I remember that a colleague who holds both  DMin and MD degrees said that his daughter had given him that as a nickname. When he inquired Why?, she told him that it was because he has 'so many degrees'.)

   Adapting to the temp has followed varying preferences. Friends and family have posted many pictures of fun in the sun and surf at their favorite beaches. Others indicate their preference for the cooler mountain areas.  We have made several trips to frozen yogurt parlors. Friends indicate that there is less 'stove top' and oven cooking happening at their homes. And, in this part of the world, Air Conditioning units seem to go full time.

    This AC dependency is largely, of course, a "First World" phenomenon. Denizens of many areas would consider us  going 'soft'  when we are without Mr. Carrier's invention. The mother of Detective Mick Belker on the long ago television program, Hill Street Blues, often called him at inopportune times. On one episode when he was booking someone, mom telephoned with the dilemma of how to keep dad cool in their non-air condition tenement.  As Belker's frustration grew, the one being booked interrupted, "Tell her to fill the bathtub with cold water and put him in it."  The detective shot the man a withering look and then repeated the suggestion to mom.

    Well, we did not resort to tubs of cold water, but recently we revisited the pre-AC experience.  The 'keep the windows open for the breeze' approach proved futile. We resorted to recliner and sofa on the lower level.  It took a couple of days for the repairman to arrive. He said  malfunctioning of a particular component was occurring in many units in town.

    Recently I mentioned to a young colleague that prior to the 1960's, most motor vehicles were equipped with  4-60 air conditioners. Noticing that the expression was meaningless, I explained that we opened 4 windows and drove 60 miles per hour. I did not even attempt to explain the vents on the front windows that directed the breeze onto passengers in those seats.

    However you do it, Stay Cool.  In less than six months we will be complaining that it's Colder 'n . . . 

       Satchel

    
   

The Pitcher is a Potter

Have you ever been to Whynot ?  Well, why not ?  Quite likely it's because you knew not that the place even existed.  Located along 'Pottery Highway' near the central North Carolina town of Seagrove 
(another place that has not been on your travels ?), there is little there that you would notice except the  highway sign.

It's almost in the center of the State.

According to local tradition, several years ago residents gathered to choose a name for their 'town'.  After several suggestions had been    rejected, someone recommended, "Why not name it Why Not and let's just go home?"

The Seagrove area is frequently called the "Pottery Capital of North Carolina" and sometimes, less modestly, the "Pottery Capital of the World".  I will leave it to 'authorities' to resolve the matter. . .See Wikipedia for "Seagrove, NC".  But leaving downtown Seagrove and just before the above sign is our favorite pottery, Dirtworks and our friend, Dan the Potter.

A few years ago, Our State Magazine (North Carolina) did a cover story on Seagrove and featured a two-page spread including full page photo of Dan.

{And this is where I indicate that this post is neither a requested nor paid commercial.  As a matter of fact, Dan will probably see this at about the same time you see it. If interested, put "Dirt Works Pottery" in your search engine.}

Ian is our ten year old former next door neighbor who shares my love of baseball. We think that he plays several positions well, especially as catcher or pitcher (See earlier post, "Take Me Out to the Ballgame").

He had expressed interest in seeing Dan's two Saint Bernard 'puppies' , each weighing 125 # + at six months old.  Dan invited us to bring Ian to see the 'pups' and he indicated that while we were there, he would teach Ian to 'throw' a piece of pottery.  The dogs provided affectionate entertainment. 

Pups

 After initial hesitancy, Ian donned a work shirt and set about his first creation.  Dan was a remarkably patient, kind, encouraging teacher and when the venture was complete, the pot was ready for the kiln.  Dan indicated that it would be ready in a couple of weeks.

Teacher and Student

About seventy-one years ago when I was in the second grade, our teacher brought clay for us to make a piece of pottery.  Mine was a purple monstrosity but when I gave it to my mom, she acted as if it were crafted by a world-class potter.  Until her death in 2003, that piece of pottery remained along with other keepsakes on a shelf by her kitchen sink.  I hope that Ian's creation will bring comparable pride to its recipient.

After all,  "Why Not ?"

Satchel