Memoirous

First eye done. I can see. The hard part: waiting to be able to resume my “normal” activities. Till then, no lifting more than 10 lbs, no bike riding, no sweeping, no swimming or water in eye. It’s hard to just sit around. I want to ride my bike through the woods, take my grandson to Lake Lansing and get into the water. Start up running again. Lift my youngest grandson and lay him down for a nap. I did rebelliously sweep my kitchen floor and mop it. I felt like a deviant. Things I might want to put off, now sound enticing. Cleaning out the shed, for instance. Soon, though, this episode will be behind me. There will come a time when I’d do anything to waste time on a summer day, so I may as well enjoy it now.

I’ve learned that birthdays don’t mean a lot. In fact, they can be somewhat disappointing, a let down. Birthdays come and go. Since this blog is about memories, I’d like to share how I celebrated the 200 th birthday of the USA. 1976 found me at a Young Life camp outside of Pittsburgh, PA. I was a volunteer at an inner-city youth camp put on by an organization for high schoolers called Young Life. It was considered cool Christian. My high school allowed the club to post info in meetings on campus. I met through Young Life a life-long friend, Jane McSweeney nee Jarrell, from Dayton, Ohio. She was city mouse and I was if not country mouse at least Centerville-suburban mouse. She and I were recruited for the camp, where we met Mark Bruce and a few other Young Lifers. I didn’t work directly with the kids; I did laundry. It was a regular machine and took forever to do many, many loads. On the morning of the 4 th , I was aware it was supposed to be a monumental day—for the nation, not ...

  search my name: Jane Hertenstein or follow this link: https://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=jane+hertenstein all ebooks 50% off

Three days after coming home from a grueling bike trip, a tour of the Pacific Coast to San Fran, I went into cataract surgery mode. A friend asked: is it operation or surgery or procedure? Not sure. I was kitted up and on a gurney and rolled into an operation theater. Anesthesia was twilight, meaning I was awake but didn’t feel anything. No after effects. I came home and made Swedish crackers. Sat outside under trees and wearing sunglasses watching grandkids. The next day the eye cup was removed and . . .   MAGIC. My vision was so clear as to make me wonder if it was AI, if it was real. Everything was super crisp. I was elated and at the same time sad about what I’d been missing ever so gradually for the past 6 months. Especially the dirt on my floors that I can see only too well now. But, I’ll have to wait a bit longer for a big clean, as I’ve been advised to stay away from dust and dirt and be careful about lifting, and no bending head lower than waist for about a week. The...