Free to Do So

   
      Today is Memorial Day which, despite advertising, is not about home improvement projects, or  camping, or picnics, or a day off of work. It is a day to honor those who have died in defense of our country. I would like to dedicate this blog to that purpose.

 Those who feel the U.S.A had lost its greatness are free to do so.
 Those who think America uses its military might to oppress, rather than free from oppression, are free to do so.
 Those who believe our enemies, like bees, won't bother us unless we bother them, are free to do so.
 Those who argue that our nation prospered despite the faith and patriotic fervor of our founding fathers, instead of because of it, are free to do so.
  Those who consider the light of freedom no longer worth protecting, much less sharing, with the world, are free to do so.

  But they are free to do so because of those who believe that our nation and freedom are worth living for, and fighting for and, if necessary, dying for. And those are who we recognize today. In their honor I post the following poem:

 Today I am Free

Today I am free

to remember or forget

soldiers whose names I do not know,

who died in battles long ago

and those who perish yet,

in middle eastern sands

or other distant lands.

Today I am free

to berate or celebrate

the U.S.A. with all its flaws,

unfair taxes, unjust laws,

who excludes the God who made her great.

I fight government’s grasping touch

because I have so much.

Today I am free

to honor or condemn;

to sit in safety and abhor

the very thought of death and war,

or proudly be American

like those who bought my liberty.

Today I am free.

Taking Steps

     I am taking steps to make my uncooperative left knee stable, steps like doing every knee exercise I can think of plus twice weekly physical therapy, but I have been taking those steps for weeks now. The first step I want to mention is called the Sponge Bob. After the initial sore, but stable, phase where I could get around slowly but surely with a cane, my knee began to feel like a sponge. That spongy feeling caused my leg to bob down every time I used it, hence the name. Since I did not feel normal people were ready to learn the Sponge Bob, I used crutches in public.
     The next step was the Australian Crawl, where I swam my way around the kitchen with one arm reaching out to the counter at all times. In the rest of the house, where there were no handholds, I used one crutch. I learned to do lots of things clutching a crutch--one crutch vacuuming, one crutch laundry hauling, unloading groceries, etc. The One Crutch Clomp resembles the Peg Leg Lumber but includes making your armpit sore. In public I used two crutches. No need to show off how buff my armpit had become.
    When my leg no longer needed a crutch to keep it from collapsing, I circumnavigated the house using the Spiderman Swing. This dance not only involves using handholds but getting enough momentum to propel you from handhold to handhold, as if you were on erratic monkey bars. Between swings I could support myself if my knee was fairly bent. This position adds a dramatic dip to the choreography.
     Throughout this time, whenever I was in a grocery store I practiced the Cartwheel. This is not the cartwheel in which gymnasts start from a standing position and wheel the body sideways, landing first on the hands and then on the feet. What I mean by Cartwheel is walking by supporting myself with a shopping cart. I have been going up and down every aisle of our local grocery stores and have become a semi-pro on which stores have the most therapeutic shopping carts. Costco has big, sturdy carts, but the center of gravity is so high it makes my knee less stable. Also, most Costco shoppers are too hard core to make way for a cripple taking a shopping cart for a Sunday drive. On the other hand, the grocery carts at Smiths are a perfect fit. It is as if they were manufactured with a middle aged, 5'4" woman with a bum knee in mind.  I am getting faster at dancing the Cartwheel.
     The stage I am at now, and what I hope is my final step before walking in a normal, upright position, is the One-Legged Aboriginal Shuffle. In this dance I walk normally with my right leg and, with the left leg slightly bent, take a short step that faintly pounds the floor in a manner similar to the two-legged version that is traditional among the aborigines of Australia. This position gives me good stability for short distances and, instead of dipping down, I get to pop up straight whenever I reach a handhold.
     Since I was put through these same paces after my knee replacement two years ago, I know the day will come when I can step forward with my leg straight and walk without having to focus on the activity as if I was doing quantum physics. When that day comes, the only unstable body part I will have to deal with--is my mind.
     

    

The Winds That Blew

     I am actually working on a humorous blog entry, but it is not quite ready yet. And this poem, which has been forming in my mind for a few weeks, finally girded itself with words today. It is another poem expressing my grief over losing my granddaughter. It is probably not the last, but perhaps they will be less frequent than they are now. If God gave me poetry as a coping mechanism, I must use His gift as, and when, He chooses.

 The Winds That Blew

In later April, nearly May

I watched the petals blow away

from bushes where the berries grow

that feed the birds through winter’s snow.

A cool wind stole the tiny blooms.

It made me think of you, my child,

torn from my arms by tempests wild

between your mother and my son.

My time as your grandma is done

I tell my heart, but love won’t hear.

You, my grandchild, fed my soul,

warmed it against the coming cold.

Fresh as a blossom in my hand,

I hope that you can understand

I did not choose to leave you.

I could not stop the winds that blew,

the storm that parted me from you.

My plans for all the years ahead

are scattered like the petals shed

when spring blows cold as winter.