Category: Life

Posted in Life

Get the h*** out of here!

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The big dog (Willow the Great Dane) and witnessed a David and Goliath moment on our morning walk yesterday.

All the noise came from a mockingbird (I think) who was annoyed at the red-tailed hawk sitting on top of a utility pole, minding his own business. She squawked, swooped, and circled the hawk as he (or she) sat and scanned the ground for a snake or something else to eat. Like an annoying mosquito, she buzzed his head again and again until he finally gave in, screeched, and flew away. For good measure, the annoying bird gave chase for a few seconds and then flew off.

Maybe the mocking bird was protecting a nest. Maybe it was a territorial thing. Maybe she was picking a fight. Who knows. I found it fascinating that the smaller bird chased off the bird of prey.

We like to root for the underdog, don’t we? There’s something appealing about the long shot. We cheer when the powerful go down. We want Rocky to win.

Oops. I still shop on Amazon. I still go to Walmart. I want to support small, local businesses but succumb to lower prices and free one day shipping. Ugh.

Today, the little guy won. Tomorrow? Who knows.

Posted in grandparenting, Life

Mother’s Day preparation

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I spent some time with my nine- and five-year-old grandsons yesterday while my daughter took my wife out for an early Mother’s Day brunch. When they show up at my house, the boys typically chase the dogs around, climb and swing on the play fort, and exercise with all the garage gym equipment. Yesterday the older rode his long board up and down the street while the younger did a few odd jobs to earn a few quarters. But then it was time for the main attraction.

One of my grandfatherly tasks was to get them working on Mother’s Day cards. I printed out a few card templates I found online, got out our bucket of crayons, and announced it was time to get to work.

To my surprise, they dove into the project with passion. They took their time carefully coloring the cards rather than hurried scribbling. Each was proud of his work, showing off color combinations and attention to detail. I enjoyed watching the “I love my mom!” side of the boys that is usually hidden behind a young man’s “What can I climb?” “How can I annoy my brother?” and (while hanging upside down from something) “Look what I can do!”

The five-year-old was filled with pride as he wrote his message inside the card, along with a bonus picture. The older thought, “I need to get her a present.” Boys definitely need a dad, but they sure love their moms!

I got a whole hour of focused worked out of them before they started asking about lunch. That’s impressive.

Posted in Life

“It’s almost the weekend.”

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Dawn McDonald on Unsplash

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a nip hit the already full trash can next to the gas pump. It was a small bottle of E & J brandy, rather than the popular Fireball or Smirnoff. On the other side of the pump, a young man was lying in the bed of a pickup truck while another filled it with gas.

A voice said, “Good evening, sir.”

“‘Evening.”

I thought he then said, “It’s almost the weekend.” It was a Wednesday evening so I said, “Yup, hump day.”

He was very hard to understand and I thought he repeated, “It’s almost the weekend.” He must have seen the puzzled look on my face and spoke slower, but still slurring his words. After a third try, I finally figured out he was trying to say, “It’s almost Mother’s Day weekend.”

Unsure where the discussion was headed, I said, “My mom died about nineteen years ago.”

“I wish I could talk with you. Mine died a week ago.”

“That must be hard.”

“I was right there with her. A massive heart attack. I’m not sure what to do.”

I said, “I guess you’re not looking forward to this weekend.”

He went on, “Nope. But she was a good Christian woman.”

“It’s sad, but at least you know she’s with the Lord.”

He reached out his hand to shake mine and said, “God bless you, man.”

“God bless.”

And that was it. The pump clicked off and I closed the gas cap. As I drove away I saw three others standing outside the pickup truck. I didn’t catch the license plate, so I don’t know if they were local or passing through Daytona Beach.

Most people at the gas pump do their thing and drive off. Occasionally I’ll have a random conversation. The culture of convenience stores is interesting, including huge cups of coffee, tiny bottles of booze, and plenty of scratch off lottery tickets.

Posted in Life

Keepin’ ‘em shiny

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I arrived at the Honda dealer just as the service advisors were logging into their computers. After they took my van back to start working on a recall repair, I got a very nice, strong cup of coffee and found a high top table to sit at next to the sales area.

The salespeople don’t get in until about nine, so it was pretty quiet. As I sat, jotting down story ideas, a gentleman wandered through with a spray bottle and two microfiber cloths. He said, “‘Mornin’” as he did a quick detail on the vehicles on the showroom floor.

I said, “Good morning.” Then I added, “you wouldn’t think they’d get very dusty overnight.”

“You’d be surprised.”

It was a Monday morning, so he was probably wiping away a whole weekend’s worth of fingerprints, smudges, and dirt.

I wonder how many people touch the cars each day? Probably plenty. For some reason, fingers are drawn to smooth, shiny surfaces. They are a pleasure to touch. But it’s hard to keep them that way.

Some spend a lot of time and big bucks on car detailing to preserve that brand new look. Of course, it’s gone just a few miles down the road. Other cars look like they’ve never been washed.

Somewhere in between is probably the best I can do.

Posted in Life

The magic of the dawn

Posted on by William Douthwaite

Even the dogs noticed how loudly the birds were singing. The cardinals led today’s chorus, greeting the dawn with such enthusiasm that both dogs looked up with curiosity. I’ll bet they wondered, “Who else is up this early?” A few blocks away, mourning doves called back and forth. Bluebirds chirped from the overhead wires.

The air was still as the neighborhood came alive with sound. The smallest bit of orange tinted the eastern horizon. I saw one light in the sky, a planet. The stars had called it a night.

We left the house about 6 am. Lots of outdoor lights were on, but the insides of most of the houses were still dark. Less than a quarter mile down the road we pass a home that is bathed in blue light. Blue lights are on either side of the front door, line the driveway, and shine up into the trees. Yes, I can tell you support law enforcement.

We’ve walked a mile and a half before the first car passes, doing at least 50 on this long, straight stretch of road. Probably a preacher, anxious to get to church and practice his sermon. The truck that slowly pulls into a driveway is someone getting home from work. It’s tough to work an overnight shift.

Some people still have cans lying on the front lawn two days after trash collection. There are seven cars parked in a circular driveway in front of another home. They must have a lot of guests for the weekend. A pile of wood from a discarded fence is still piled on the curb. I wonder when someone will haul that away.

About forty minutes into our walk, we notice the squirrels and bunnies. I notice the blue, cloudless sky. When did daytime get here? When did the night sneak away? That moment is part of the magic of the dawn.

Posted in Life, retirement

Too much information?

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Roman Kraft on Unsplash

My life is so filled with information that I no longer know what to do.

It was a lot easier when I was young. I’d get up in the morning and look out the window. I either saw the sun or overcast skies. I could see if rain (or snow) falling. If I felt cold, I out on a jacket or coat. And then, regardless of the weather, I headed out the door and walked to school.

Now I check my phone to check the current temperature as well as predicted highs and lows. I look at the hour by hour prediction of rain. I watch a moving radar map to see if a storm is headed my way. I zoom out to see if there are any storms in other places where I might be going that day. Should I bring an umbrella? Will an event be cancelled? Should I hunker down at home? Am I feeling lucky, as if I’ll be on the sunny side of a fifty-percent chance of rain? Sometimes I don’t know what to do.

When we picked up our Great Dane puppy, the breeder gave us tips from her years of experience. She advised us on the kind of food to get and when to neuter our female. When we got home, we took her to the veterinarian for her next round of shots. He gave us completely different advice about food and age for spaying. Of course, when I got home, I got online and did some research, hoping to break the one to one tie. That didn’t help. I found plenty of expert advice to support either recommendation.

It was a lot easier when I was younger. I brought home my first pup with a bag of inexpensive food and we were both happy for his fifteen-year life.

I don’t find online reviews to be helpful for much of anything. There are just as many negative as positive reviews for products, physicians, restaurants and jobs. Are those reviews even legit? Or are some of them fake? Who knows?

It was much easier to walk in the store, pick up an item, and buy it if you liked it. Or if you enjoyed the meal, go back to that restaurant. If not, go somewhere else.

In the wake of my retirement nearly two years ago, I still get conflicting information. “So-and-so was still preaching well into his nineties.” Another person kept working, fell ill, and never got to enjoy their retirement years. “You know, the bible never speaks of leaving the workforce.” And, “I’ve been retired more years than I worked. I highly recommend it.”

It seems like there are many more experts in this world than there used to be. If I listen to all their advice, I might not do anything, paralyzed by too much information. So I think I’ll just look out the window, play with the dog, purchase what works for me, and daily learn first-hand about life, retirement, and purpose.

Posted in Life

I noticed a few contradictions

Posted on by William Douthwaite

The line at Wawa was short as I waited to pay for my coffee. I had just filled the truck with gas and needed some afternoon caffeine. In line ahead of me was a pregnant woman who looked like she had just stepped out of a hospital operating room. She wore light blue scrubs, a face mask, and head covering along with a hospital ID clipped onto a pocket.

I watched with interest as she placed a sub and a large coffee on the counter and told the cashier what kind of cigarettes she wanted. As she paid the cashier asked, “Are you a nurse?” She replied, “No, I’m a doctor.”

I couldn’t help but notice the apparent contradictions. Health care and smoking. Pregnancy and caffeine.

It’s easy to be judgmental. I don’t know the whole story. It could have been a large decaf. Those cigarettes could have been for someone else. My mom smoked and drank lots of coffee. So did my childhood doctor and his office nurse.

I wonder what contradictions people notice when they see me.

  • Did anyone notice how I could preach, “Love your neighbor” when I couldn’t stand the person living across the street from me? Did I ever mention how happy I was when I saw a For Sale sign in his front yard?
  • No one got to see the times my eyes rolled back as I listened to endless rants from members on the phone who were upset about anything and everything. Yes, there were days when I hoped some of the sheep would wander off and get lost.
  • I wonder how it looked when I didn’t get my afternoon caffeine and I couldn’t keep my eyes open during an afternoon visit. That sure makes people feel important. I suppose that was simply payback for those times when I put people to sleep on a Sunday morning.

What contradictions do people notice when they watch or listen to you?

Posted in Life, neighbor

Of course it’s private property

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It feels strange to call a house “lonely,” but every time I walk by, I think, “What a lonely, gray house.” Maybe it’s the signage that has scared everyone off. There’s not just one, but three of these signs on all sides of the house, announcing Private Property: No Trespassing.

Why would you put a sign like that in your yard? It’s not like we’re in the middle of nowhere and someone might wander through and decide to hang out for a while. This is a residential area. All the property is privately owned. Random door-to-door sales people may walk up, but I’ve never thought of that as trespassing. And if someone did want to break and enter, they wouldn’t pay attention to a sign like that.

When I’ve gone to visit some folks who live in the rural, unincorporated parts of the county, there’s often a sign like this on the front gate of a long driveway. Out in the woods or among hundreds of acres of farmland, it’s hard to tell where one property ends and the next one begins. If you don’t know where you’re going, you don’t belong here. I always called ahead to make sure they knew I was coming. There was a good chance I’d be met by someone with a shotgun if I just showed up.

Actually, a sign like that makes me wonder what someone is hiding in that house. I’m curious. What are they making or distributing or storing up in that house? Who was the last trespasser? Whatever happened to them? It is a little creepy. There isn’t much landscaping.

Such a sign doesn’t add to the curb appeal. Along with signs like No Soliciting, No Pooping (even though dogs can’t read), and a sign about who just repaired the roof, it makes the neighborhood look trashy.

But what are you going to do. It’s their property. It’s their private property.

Posted in dying, Life

One more time: visiting a friend in hospice

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

I went to visit some old friends the other day. They are living in a beautiful assisted living facility just a few miles from my home. He’s been getting some physical therapy and is getting around really well. She is receiving hospice care, and her family told me she only had a day or two left to live.

Hoping that she would be lucid, I went to visit her right after I spoke with her daughter. Though confined to a bed, she was awake, comfortable, conversant, witty, and all smiles. She had every reason to be. She had all four of her daughters there with her. When I walked in, they were singing one of her favorite hymns, “For All the Saints.” Her two sons had been there the week before. I was thankful I had this chance to sit and talk with her for a while.

That was five days ago. Death isn’t an exact science. It’s inevitable, but it’s not predicable. We’ll just have to extend grace to the hospice folks when they answer the question, “How long does she have?” She’s not conscious anymore, but she’s comfortable and listening to all the conversations going on around her.

Whenever I’ve asked people about the best way to die, I often get the answer, “In my sleep.” On the one hand, that sounds like a great way to go. But on the other hand, you might miss out on all those precious moments you get to spend with friends and family. When death comes unexpectedly or accidentally, many wish they could have seen or talked to them one more time. A few days in hospice provides a lot of “one more times.”

My dad was in and out of hospice care the last few years of his life. My brother, sister, and I had a lot of “one more times” with him as he flirted with death but kept bouncing back. I think he enjoyed the attention and company when it looked like his time was up.

I like going to visit someone who’s in hospice care. When the finish line is in sight, the conversations are meaningful, the desire for life is powerful, and every moment is precious.