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I know that I don’t visit my site often, but today I like to write something about an amazing human being who was my boss for 11 years, the Reverend Monsignor Thomas P. McGettrick who recently went home to be with the Lord.

I worked for the Catholic Diocese of Corpus Christi in the department that oversaw everything to do with clergy, that is: priests and deacons (Transitional and Permanent– Transitional are deacons who will be ordained priests and Permanent are men who will only be deacons for life and could be married at the time they become deacons but can’t get married after they are ordained as Permanent Deacons). The title of my boss was Vicar for Clergy. My boss was a monsignor who also happened to be a captain in the Air Force reserve. My first day in the office my boss happened to have been serving his required two weeks in the reserves and when I got to my office, there was no one to tell me what my duties were. Sometime at mid morning, a beautiful floral arrangement was delivered to my desk, it was a “welcome” bouquet from my new boss. I thought to myself: what a nice, thoughtful and kind gesture. All the other ladies working on the 4th floor of the Chancery kept coming by to see and smell my bouquet, needless to say: I felt special! Among my duties I had to deal with everything to do with priests and deacons; however, a couple years later, the title of the Vicar for Clergy was changed to Vicar for Priests only. A deacon was named to oversee everything to do with deacons. Then one fine morning my boss shared with me the news that he was being sent to another location of the diocese to serve as the Vicar of the newly created Vicariate of Laredo, which I didn’t know at the time, was going to become a brand new Diocese. I felt very sad at the prospect of losing such a great boss and having another new boss in such a short period of time.

The day arrived when my new boss came to the office to start his duties as the new Vicar for Priests; he turned out to be the most kind, generous, always smiling and gentle soul, his name: Father Thomas P. McGettrick who after being in the diocese since the late 50s, when he spoke one immediately knew that he was Irish. I loved working for and with Father Tom, as he liked to be called. We had such an excellent working relationship. As a lay person working with clergy, I felt very comfortable sharing my dilemmas with Father Tom who always gave me good advice and helped me through some very difficult moments in my life. Father Tom had been holding the office of Vicar for about two years (I’m estimating) when he was notified that he was being elevated to become the Reverend Monsignor Thomas P. McGettrick. There was a beautiful Mass and Fr. Tom became Monsignor McGettrick. The next time Msgr. McGettrick came into the office, I greeted him on the usual way but only this time instead of Father Tom I say: Good morning Monsignor; he stopped in front of my desk and told me: “Alba, I’m not old and pouchy to be called Monsignor, call me Fr. Tom”. Fr. Tom was a most caring, thoughtful and humble priest; not many like him.

As the years passed, I got to meet and know some of Fr. Tom’s family, he really looked forward to spending time with them, especially his two nieces whom he truely loved and enjoyed the time he spent with them, taking them to the mall on his day off or weekends, or doing anything the girls wanted to do. Fr. Tom will come to the office and would relate to me some funny anecdotes about the time he spent with the girls; he treasured the moments he spent with his family, so many times he related to me of his growing up in Ireland playing with his siblings, at times he would say that he and his siblings could field the side for a soccer game!!

I could share so much more about Fr. Tom, but I will keep most of it close to my heart for he was the epitome of what a priest should be: kind, considerate, faithful to his faith, a loving brother, uncle, friend but above all, a true priest.

Father Tom went home to heaven and I know the angels rejoiced when he passed through the heavenly gates. Rest in peace Father Tom and may eternal light shine upon you!!

Continuing Sara’s Vision!
By Alba Taft

A Story of a Surgical/Dental Mission to Patzun, Chimaltenango, Guatemala

It is 6:30 in the morning and I’m on my way to Bush Intercontinental Airport in Houston to meet with the volunteers who are members of Wings of Recovery. As a team, we are heading to Patzun, Chimaltenango in the Highlands of Guatemala for a mission at Sanatorio Corpus Christi, formerly known as Clinica Corpus Christi. A Franciscan nun, Sister Esmeralda Vasquez Navidad, currently serves as the Sanatorio’s director.
Gazing outside my window on my way to the airport, I find myself reminiscing about how this all started. In the early 1980s, the late Sara Merdes Judd, a Corpus Christi resident, together with Father Aldo Justiniano Babuin, a Franciscan priest, took on a dream to provide medical care in the then guerrilla-warfare-infested area of Patzun, a poor village in the central Highlands of Guatemala. Sara and Father Aldo were the propelling force behind the building of a small clinic. Today, it is fair to say that neither Sara nor Father Aldo would recognize this beautiful, well-equipped hospital that serves not only the children of St. Francis of Assissi orphanage and the citizens of Patzun, but also Guatemalan citizens from far beyond. Sara and Father Aldo’s vision continues to live through the non profit group, Wings of Recovery, an ever evolving team of medical and support personnel that has continued to carry on their dream and labor of love.
By way of history, when Sara stopped traveling to Patzun and later on when she dissolved the non-profit organization known as Clinica Corpus Christi, several of the remaining members of the medical team continued missions to Patzun under the name of South Texas Surgical Team.
Soon thereafter in 1999, Teresa Lara Moreno, RN, BSN, CNOR, a dedicated nurse who has worked at Christus Spohn Hospital Shoreline for over 30 years, took the lead in organizing teams and procuring the hundreds of necessary items for our missions. Teresa’s first visit to Patzun was in 1996 with a Clinica Corpus Christi mission. All of the equipment, materials, medicines and other supplies for these missions are acquired through Teresa Moreno’s efforts as she requests and applies for them; she puts the teams together by searching for well established surgeons, anesthesiologists and support personnel. Teresa also stores the supplies; packs boxes and takes them to Houston for shipping, more often than not, on her own but sometimes with the help of Corina Flores. In early 2017, with the help of Jo Emma Arechiga, an RN and attorney, Teresa applied for and obtained non profit status which was granted on March 15, 2017 and the group was renamed: Wings of Recovery. Today, just as when the missions began three decades ago, each and every person who volunteers to serve on a mission trip pays their own way: airfare, lodging, transfer fees and meals.
I am constantly amazed at how many medical professionals are willing to share of their talents to help alleviate the suffering of those people who otherwise would not have access to the much needed surgeries. This year comprised the largest group that we have ever taken on one of our missions; 27 selfless individuals made the trip: they hail from Corpus Christi, Boerne, Gregory, Victoria, Houston, Spring, Galveston and Dallas, Texas. There were also one individual from Oklahoma, two from Florida and even one from as far North as New York State. Nurse Kim Babb Elmson, who has been a part of this mission for years, traveled from Oklahoma. The team members traveling from Florida were Doctor Craig Davis and his wife Hilary Rojas Davis, RN; while Jorge Madden traveled from New York; he doesn’t have a medical background; however, as he speaks fluent Spanish he was in charge of visiting with the family of the patients to inform them that the surgery had gone well and their loved one was recuperating. Jeremy Moore (Houston) and Jake Lindsey (Dallas) who work for Belimed Company, joined the mission this year and used their physical strength aiding in lifting and transporting patients to the recovery rooms after their surgeries.
Emmett Rhoden, who is from Victoria and is a long time friend of Dr. Garret who is a volunteer anesthesiologist, also joined our team for the first time this year. Emmett who resides in Victoria, worked steadily carrying out whatever roles needed filling, Emmet helped to unpack and put up supplies, hunted down inventory, and he helped with the lifting and transporting of patients.
While the majority of the team traveled together to Guatemala City arriving at mid-day; for various reasons three (3) members had to take a later flight arriving in Guatemala City somewhere near midnight. They were Corina Flores, who is a fantastic Surgical Tech and who for years has served as a lead surgical tech at Christus Spohn Hospital Shoreline, Jo Emma Arechiga, RN and Kim Babb Elmson, RN. The following day, Corina, Jo Emma and Kim found transport to take them to Patzun to join the group.
The Wings of Recovery mission this year would not have been successful without the help of all of those volunteers such as: Julie Rojas, RN and Hilary R. Davis, RN who did the fantastic job of preparing the patients prior to surgery. Additionally, we had the doctors from Victoria, Texas, Dr. Peter Rojas, (general surgeon) and Dr. Derrick Garret (anesthesiologist). Also for the first time and from Victoria, we had general surgeon, Dr. Hannah Smith, who proved to be an excellent addition to our team. Because of these doctors and support personnel, the Wings of Recovery team was able to do ten (10) laparascopic cholecystectomies (removed gallbladders), eleven (11) different hernia repairs and six (6) other general surgeries (for ex. Excision of cysts or lipomas) in just two and a half days. The number of surgeries done each day had to be scheduled considering the limited number of beds for the patients who needed to spend the night at the clinic.
From Galveston we had Jose Rojas, PhD, RRT, RPFT (an associate professor of Respiratory Care at UTMB) who together with Kim and Jo Emma, did a terrific job taking care of the patients post operatively in the recovery room. Jose assisted in monitoring the patient’s oxygen saturation (status) and in maintaining their airways.
Personnel from Corpus Christi included: Wayne Funderbunk, CRNA who by rendering anesthesia assisted Dr. Smith. Aubry Ortiz RN and Anabel McLead RN who served as circulating room nurses. Linda Lawson (Boerne), Corina Flores (Gregory) and Vanessa Vela, FA, worked in the capacity of surgical technologists; after gathering all of the necessary equipment and supplies for each of the surgeries, Linda, Corina and Vanesa skillfully assisted the surgeons. Norma Martinez, a Christus Spohn Hospital Shoreline Associate, who is an expert in the sterilization department, led the job of sterilizing all of the surgical instruments which had to be cleaned and sterilized for reuse. Norma was assisted by her son, Josh Martinez, who learned first hand how hard his Mother works every day. Josh’s wife, Christina Sheppard Martinez, assisted in keeping tract of our inventory and remained available for any odd job that needed doing.
This visit, the Wings of Recovery Team was blessed to provide the invaluable skills of Corpus Christi’s own DDS Haysam Dawood (dentist) who along with his friend, Dennis Ruano Silva and Doctor’s Silva’s nephew, Marcos, who are Guatemala City Dentists, were able to perform multiple dental procedures, such as fillings, cleanings and extractions over a long two days; they did aproximately 45 procedures. This was not Dr. Dawood’s first mission to Patzun; he too started going with Sara way back in the 90s. The dentists Dawood, Ruano and Ruano were assisted by Jeremy Moore and Ms. Mayra Starkey (Dr. Smith’s mother) who lend their invaluable help in the dental clinic; Mayra’s good humor made the work seem a bit easier. Ms. Starkey currently resides in Victoria, Texas.
After the mission ends and the team departs, the follow up care of the patients is in the very capable hands of two doctors, they are Doctor Thelma Margarita Ajquejay Tzunun and Doctor Virginia Minero who is a Franciscan Nun; both doctors are in charge of patient care in the hospital. The doctors are assisted by nurse Ingrid Maria Ajcip who, with her twin sister, grew up in the orhanage with the Franciscan sisters who gave them an education, Ingrid’s sister chose to become a teacher, while she chose to study nursing and now works in the hospital.
Three (3) of us, members of Wings of Recovery remain from Sara’s original team: Linda Lawson, Teresa Moreno and myself, Alba Taft. I am a Guatemalan born U.S citizen who resides in Spring. I was blessed to have met Sara in 1982. My duties as a member of Wings of Recovery are primarily logistics which include but are not limited to, contacting the College of Medicine in Guatemala City to request provisional licenses for all medical personnel; contacting Guatemala’s Minister of Health to request a letter granting its permission for the team to enter the country with all the medical instruments, medicine and the necessities for the surgeries; arranging transportation and lodging among other related things. My duties have to be done in Spanish then translated to English and back again, adhering to the legalities of both countries. This year, the request for the letter from the Minister of Health was delayed due to the fact that in mid January a new president was installed in Guatemala together with his new cabinet; however, we were fortunate to have our request expedited. We invited the Vice Minister who helped us to visit the hospital during our stay and he did, it was such an honor!
Sanatorio Corpus Christi has come a long way since the original Clinica Corpus Christi team started doing missions that at first focused on preventive medicine. I fondly remember our first mission when the team was accompanied by Ms. Lilly Flores Vela, then a reporter for Channel 3. During that mission we traveled to surrounding villages to treat people in need. Approximately in 1994, the missions began including surgeries. Presently, the hospital hosts medical missions not only from different parts of the United States, but also from some European countries. This year, our team had been scheduled to work for four days, March 5, 6, 7 and 8; however, due to scheduling constraints at the hospital, the planned 4 days were shortened to 2-1/2 days. Another mission from Holland was providing pediatric surgeries: cleft palates and other similar interventions. Rather than focus on the scheduling overlap, we are thankful that people were being helped.
On a personal level, during this mission I was transported to the first days when I would travel to Patzun with Sara and we were welcomed at Father Aldo’s residence. These feelings were spurred when I was able to hug not only one of Father Aldo’s former house keepers, but also visited with the nun who, at the first, had been the Superior of the community of Franciscan Sisters caring for the children in the orphanage. This nun had been there from the onset of Sara’s dream. After all of these years, Madre Carmen Fermina Arreaga is back once again as the Superior of the community. When Madre Carmen heard that I was there with the mission, she made the effort to seek me out and when we saw each other we embraced as long last friends. Soon we started to reminisce about the days when Sara began talking about building a clinic to help care for the children of the orphanage, the citizens of Patzun and surrounding villages. Different memories surfaced when I ran into Ms. Norma Magzul, she’s worked in the clinic’s laboratory since 1991 when the hospital was dedicated on Sara’s and her twin daughters birthday, January 14.
And what can I share about our patients? Well, that would take a while, suffice it to say, they are grateful and thankful. Many shared stories with us about how long they’d suffered with gallbladder pains (some for over four years), never complaining, just answering our inquires. Strong people with few resources. Some surgical patients and their families spending the night right outside of the clinic awaiting help, but never, ever complaining. Is a humbling experience to see and hear these people who in spite of their hurts, pains and difficulties still have huge smiles on their faces.
Today, I’m certain that Sara sits in heaven smiling and very happy to see that the hospital has grown so much. Over the years it has gone from one to two well equipped operating rooms, a labor and delivery room, a large emergency room, a three chair dental clinic, a four bed recovery room, a nurses station, a pharmacy, a laboratory, and even a small doctors lounge!
Sara’s dream has in fact become a reality, and it’s my pleasure to say her name and legacy live on!
*Should you be interested in more information in assisting or joining Wings of Recovery, please contact Jo Emma Arechiga, RN at 361-548-1171.

So, I told you that I was not amused upon learning that my “boyfriend” had gone to visit another girl. Allow me to explain how things happened in my world at that time. In my hometown everybody knew everybody so it didn’t take long before a “good samaritan” came to my office to let me know about how the “boyfriend” (lets call him Arthur, not his name) left my house and had gone to visit the other girl. That evening when Arthur showed up at my house, I confronted him about his visit and he told me that the girl meant nothing to him that, he had gone out of “courtesy” because the girl’s mom was a friend of his mom, but so was my mom! Well, I wasn’t buying it and asked him to leave. A few days later, there was a formal dance in town and yes, Arthur approached and asked me to dance to which I agreed because he was, and still may be, a good dancer. While dancing, he asked me to reconsider our getting back together but I was determined not to do so and told him. Arthur then told me that he loved me and would never forget me, we finished the dance and went our separate ways.

Enter Bill. A couple weeks later was when I went chasing the family friend into the restaurant and met the man who, some six months later, became my husband.

Soon after we met, Bill started writing and sending me poems, bouquets of wild flowers, a bird nest with a couple of egg shells, and even sent me serenatas!! Do you think he was pursuing me?? I remember one weekend Bill invited me to go visit the island where he lived and was building a hunting and fishing lodge. I promptly told him that my parents would not allow me to go anywhere unchaperoned; he looked at me puzzled and asked why? I responded that it was a long standing cultural custom. Well, he wanted to show me the place so he told me that I could invite anyone I wanted. My mom, younger sister and two good friends went along. That Saturday around 9 a.m. we went down to the dock and boarded his boat. That boat was one of the fastest boats around, it had a 75 mph outboard motor so we got to the island in no time. The little island called Cayo Paloma (Dove Key) is a small piece of land situated within a large expanse of water where the river, Rio Dulce, becomes was is called Golfete almost midway between where the river begins in Lake Izabal and where it ends in the Caribbean Sea. The Rio Dulce is an idyllic, beautiful and peaceful destination point visited by nationals and people from all over the world; one can see sail boats flying flags from different countries; I was blessed that it was my backyard.

The day arrived when Bill and I got married; I had not told anyone that it was happening so it caught people by surprise and some started maligning me by saying that “I had to get married because I was three months pregnant” Not so, I’m not shy to tell you that my husband didn’t put a hand on my until after we were married; however, I didn’t care what people said, I was in heaven, or so I thought at the time.

In the beginning, life was awesome. We were visited by a lot of well known people such as the US ambassador, other personnel from the embassy but I in particular remember the US Army Attache: Coronel Cecil Edwards, he was a very tall, friendly, funny and thoughtful man who when he visited for the second time, brought his wife and son to see the beauty of the Rio Dulce. Among others who visited Cayo Paloma, where a couple of journalists who worked for Field & Stream magazine; alas, I only remember the name of Mr. Glen Lau. Those two gentlemen were so kind to me as I couldn’t communicate well because my lack of English but they where trying their best to teach me to sing “row, row, row your boat gently down the stream…….” Now I know the song but at the time I think it was hilarious. That’s the first time I heard the name: Jacksonhole, Wyoming as one of them had a ranch there. I have so many fond memories of those times.

Last July, I traveled to my home country with two of my grandchildren. I took them to my hometown and went in the required boat ride through the Rio Dulce. I asked the boat captain to take us up to see Cayo Paloma, which is now a bird sanctuary; while we circled the island, I explained to my grandchildren where our boats where kept and where the house had been. However, I declined to disembark because there are snakes galore as is a sanctuary. On our way back we stopped at a restaurant on the shores of the river where there are thermal waters. We enjoyed laddering each other with hot mud from the bottom of the river; we laughed a lot and afterwards went into the restaurant for some refreshments. While sitting there, the boat captain came to me and told me that the cook said that he knew of my late husband and me having lived in el Cayo (as is called by locals) when I asked how he knew, he told me that his grandparents used to tell them about Mista (mister) Bill and his wife who had lived there and for whom they worked; that his mother and uncles used to talk about how we would go visit their home and Bill would play with them. Needless to say, I was emotional because I felt that my past was being validated by that young man.

Alright, I will leave it here as there’s so much more that’s coming forth but will have to wait for another time.

‘Till next time,

Hello and good afternoon. Yep, it’s been a long while since I last wrote in my blog. My apologies to the awesome people who are so kind to read my musings.

So, if I remember well, the last time I wrote was of how I met my husband through a family friend while holding an unloaded 32 Beretta in my hands, right? Well, here goes more. Looking back at the events that followed, I’m in awe of how God guides our lives and re arranges everything we had planned for our future, don’t you agree?

At that time, I had been going out with a young man with whom I had grown up and gone to sixth grade with (our elementary schools were segregated by gender; girls schools, boys schools; however, the girls elementary only went to the 5th grade so we girls had to go to the boys school for the last year of elementary. The boys school was located on a cliff overlooking the sea and because of the location, there was always a breeze blowing that kept the school at a nice, comfortable temperature. On Saturdays (yes we went to school for half a day on Saturdays) At the girls school, we would go to learn how to sew, embroidery, gardening and crafts, but sometimes the teachers would organize what we called “dia de campo” which literally means a day in the country. At the boys school the teaching on Saturdays was carpentry and other things suitable for boys, remember this was the 50s! Ok, now that you know the years of my teens, you may, or may not, know that during those years young girls were not allowed to go to functions (even the movies) by themselves; so when there were dances in town, my sisters, cousins and I were always accompanied by an aunt who sat there with a look that told the guys “yes, you can dance with her but when the music ends, her seat is here besides me” Can you imagine the lengths us girls would go to spend more time with our “boyfriends” Sometimes, one of the girls would stop by my aunt, greet and talk to her, take my seat so there was no place for me to park my bones, (we would do that for each other). However, in my case, I had a double whammy in the chaperone department because not only was my aunt keeping an eye on me, but my father was the director of the marimba/orchestra that was playing for the dance, and my dad had the advantage of being on the raised dais!!! Some of you may find those attitudes somewhat archaic, but remember that my country of origin was “colonized” by Spain and some of those old Spanish customs were ingrained in the culture. With the way the young people acts today, I sometimes wish that parents would still adhere to some of those customs!

Alright then, back to the narrative involving the boyfriend saga. Where was I on the tale? Got it! At that time, because we could only attend school to the sixth grade, our parents sent us off to different places to continue our education. I had gone to secretarial school in the City and upon graduation, went back to my hometown and got a job with a company that had been in existence for a very long time; this company had a shipyard, a mail/passenger boat to the next port (water is the only access into my hometown) and had tug boats that hauled huge steel barges loaded with 100 pound burlap sacks of coffee grains (is called cafe oro) which came from coffee plantations located hundreds of miles away. Those tug boats would take the barges to the deep water port for the coffee to be loaded into the big, ocean going vessels sailing to European countries and the United States. I’m not sure that I already shared that information with you. I enjoyed my job with this company where so many of my friends’ fathers, brothers or husbands also worked, (I forgot to tell you that I was the only female working in that office) One of the men working for the company was my “boyfriend’s” dad who worked in the shipyard; he was a very uppity man, needless to say, no girl was good enough for his son, but the “boyfriend” and I continued dancing, going to the movies, taking walks (remember, my younger sister always in tow) and he would go to my house every evening at 7 p.m. One night a kid came over to my house and handed him a note, he read it and after a while told me that he had to go, we said goodbye and he left. The next day, a girlfriend told me that another girl who liked this guy had sent him a note and he had gone to that girls house, and you guessed it, I was not amused!!

Someone asked me why I hadn’t started writing my story from the beginning of when and how I met my husband, so ok, this is how it happened.   The time was early November 1962 in an idyllic seaside town nestled in a little corner of the Caribbean Sea, the following month of December was when the town celebrated its fair which lasted through the Christmas holidays.  Of course, there was a committee to put together the events to take place such as, soccer and basketball games; bicycle races; these particular races were not the bikers racing against each other in a set course, no…. the races consisted of closing main street, hanging a wire between two building and high across the street, ribbons with a number printed on them and a ring secured in one end would be hung on the wire.  The bike riders would race passing under the wire trying to catch a ribbon by putting a stick through the ring; if they were successful, they would get the prize the number indicated.  Phew, that is a long explanation!  There were dances, plays, food and other events related to town fairs.  That year, I was the secretary of that committee and as such, I had to organize fund raising events to help with the expenses of hiring the marimba for the festivities.  I remember that someone donated a hand gun, a 32 Beretta.  We made a list with numbers from 1 to 100 and were selling each number for Q10 each; at that time it was roughly $3.00.  Full of excitement, during a meeting the president of the committee asked the other members who would take the raffle sheet first to offer chances to the towns people; well, no one who was in the committee wanted to touch the gun even though it was not loaded!!  Frustrated, I took the gun together with the list and announced that I didn’t need anyone’s help!!  At that time, I was working in a company that transported coffee from the plantations to the ocean going ships docked in another town that has a deep sea port, so I had very little time during the week to offer chances to the people.  One day, walking home after work I saw a family friend enter a business and decided to go after him hoping that he would at least buy a chance for the handgun.  When I entered, to my surprise the family friend was seating at a table with a man who obviously was not even from my country, he made introductions and told me that Bill (the man’s name) was going to build a fishing and hunting lodge up the river.  Bill had the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve seen.  After the introduction, I addressed myself to our friend explaining to him my reason for accosting him.  After listening to my rehearsed speech, he then turned to Bill and told him what I had said and proceeded to write his name to a couple of chances and offered the sheet to Bill who bought 5 chances.  I was happy because I had just a few numbers left.  Long story short, when the raffle took place, nobody had bought the winning number and when our friend told Bill that I still had the gun, he bought the gun from me….. and that’s how I met my husband, I used to tell people that I got Bill with a gun!!

It has been a little over a month since I have written anything; today, I will share with you tales of my very first solo trip across the pond through the Norwegian landscape and the unforgettable French country side!!

Let me tell you that I’m a 74 year old woman who had never ventured alone on a trip lasting more than 4 hours here in the continental U.S., much less an almost twelve and a half hour, one way flight to another continent.

All of these happenings started last year when one of my daughters took her eleven year old daughter and me to visit some of my late husband’s family in Norway.  Since I had never been to Europe, I was very excited and unafraid because my very capable daughter was with me.  When we took off from Houston and landed in Newark I thought that I would be afraid crossing such a long distance, but the excitement didn’t allowed it.  Needless to say, I fell in love with the country and its people and thought that I would like to return for another visit but never imagining that only one year and nine days would pass for my next visit to take place.

This year’s voyage came about when at the beginning of the year, I travelled to my home country of Guatemala for the one year anniversary of my beloved mother’s passing.  Upon my return, I was feeling sad and very depressed missing my mom that I went to a group were people talk and share the emotions and heart ache of losing a loved one.  This was done during the times when my grandchildren were in school and I could attend the meetings.  However, my attendance didn’t last long because some of the people were going just to socialize and see if they could meet someone; that wasn’t for me so I only attended two sessions.

The idea of going back to Norway started forming in my mind, and then a friend I have in France invited me to go visit her family and I was sold!!  I started looking for flights and before I knew it I had booked my ticket for a 20 day trek to Norway and France, which by the way, said ticket was paid solely with airline miles!  After the deed was done, I started feeling panicky and apprehensive as after suffering falls that had landed me on my knees, I’m no longer able to walk fast; so my thoughts were:  will I be able to accomplish the plane transfers ok?  How am I going to find my way in those huge airports?  Then, a thought came to me and I hit upon the idea of asking for a wheel chair to avoid the long walks lugging my carry on and thus also avoiding an aching knee at the end of the day!  Upon my arrival at the Houston airport, everything was going well until I got to the point where the passengers are placed on the wheel chair to be taken to their respective departure gates, there were people waiting already so I thought someone will come soon.  It seemed the time was passing quickly and not one of the passengers was being picked up.  As I looked at the time, I had only twenty minutes to make it to my flight, I complained and was assured that I would not miss my flight, well, I nearly did as I was the last person to board!!

The first leg of my journey took me to Miami International Airport where I boarded an Scandinavian plane and headed to Arlanda Airport in Stockholm, where upon debarking off the plane, there were two ladies with wheel chairs waiting; both had a tablet in their hands, one asked my name and told me that she would be taking me to my next departing gate; that transfer was a piece of cake.  I boarded another Scandinavian airplane and headed to Oslo’s where upon landing I was met by a very courteous lady who took me to the very far gate from where the last leg of my long flight would depart.  Landing in Trondheim, again I was met by a nice, nice lady who wheeled me to the carrousel to pick up my luggage and as I turned around, I saw the familiar,  smiling and happy face of Kjetil (KJ) the relative who was picking me up and driving me the rest of the way to Folstad, about an hour’s drive, to the idyllic valley where the family lives.  More of my adventure to come.  Have a blessed and safe weekend!!

 

 

 

 

I shared with you about my friend and reader taking the time to find The Mark of the Lion and have it sent to me; as you know, I was elated when I opened the parcel and found the book; well, a few days later I celebrated my birthday and my youngest daughter and her fiancée drove from their home, almost four hours away, and came to share their time with me first for Mothers Day and my birthday which was the day after.  Before coming to the house my baby girl and her honey went to the store and bought a variety of cheeses, crackers, sausage and beer.  Upon getting to the house, my daughter started to arrange platters with the goodies and my soon to be son-in-law presented me with a gift:  a Mexican Train game set, I was so happy because since I learned to play the game I love it.  The three of us sat around the table gorging ourselves with the yummy cheeses and every thing else, sipping beer, talking and laughing.  After a while, we started playing Mexican train and we played until a little after midnight.  I was a very happy camper, all of that was my Mother’s Day gift.

To celebrate my birthday, that awesome couple took me to dinner.  We chose Italian food and went to Carrabas.   After being shown to our table, we ordered wine and appetizers, ordered our dinner and  when we finished eating, my daughter presented me with two gifts; can you guess what one of those gifts was?  No?  Well, it was a copy of The Mark of the Lion which my daughter and her fiancée searched the internet and found it in Australia!!  The book was ordered and they had it in their possession since March, so when she responded to my text message to my children asking who had bought the book for me, her answer saying me was true!!  How lucky can a person be, to have different people taking time from their busy lives to search,  find, purchase and give me a book that I have, for many years,  wish I could truly read and enjoy; so now I say thank you to my thoughtful daughter and her fiancé for their kindness and love, I’m forever grateful!

Yes, I’m reading my book and going back and re reading the chapters because I don’t want to miss anything but really absorbe every bit of this man, Charles Upham’s life; to me is awe inspiring.  If you ever have the opportunity to read The Mark of the Lion, read it; I promise you will not be disappointed.

 

I’m so overwhelmed, let me explain why.  In my blog entitled: “Improving My English”;  I mentioned my love of reading and how at the time when I could barely understand the language, much less read it, I got a hold of a book my husband Bill had.  The title was  “The Mark of the Lion”, book which I tried to read but understood very, very little; however, Bill would read and explain it to me as best as he could, his Spanish was just a little better than my English!  The book, written by Kenneth Sandford, tells of the real life events of a man  named Charles Upham and it covers his life since childhood in New Zealand, to his WWII exploits.   I was enthralled and never forgot the little bit that I understood.  Once I was able to understand English, I started looking for the book because I wanted to take my time to read and really understand the story; however, my search was fruitless because in looking for The Mark of the Lion, I was looking for the book believing the author to be Charles Oopham, that’s how his name was written in the edition I saw  and tried to read.  I didn’t recalled that the story had been written by Kenneth Sandford and didn’t know that the last name had been changed from Oopham to Upham.  I attribute my error on the fact that I didn’t understand what I was “reading”

Well, one evening a few weeks ago, my son came up to my room and after knocking and me saying “come in”,  he went in and handed me a parcel.  I had not ordered anything and was puzzled as to what was inside that parcel and kept turning it over and over trying to see who the sender was, until my son said:  “mom stop wondering who sent it and what it is and open the thing”, not necessarily in those words!  O yeah, silly me!  When I tore open the parcel and saw that it was a book, which I had turned upside down and to the back cover, didn’t take the time to read, but when I turned it to see the front, believe me, I started jumping and squealed so much and even had tears for I had tried to find the book and had never been successful in finding it.  When I learned to read English, I wanted to read that book and be able to understand it.  After my joyful jumping, squealing and crying, I grabbed my phone and sent a text message to my 8 children asking which of them had sent me the book, I was so sure that one of them had sent it to me.  My children love teasing me and I got back several messages saying:  Me, immediately followed by messages saying NOT.

Needless to say, those messages left me confused and my poor brain was in turmoil, I could not imagine who had sent me such a gift and given me so much joy; then one day looking at my FB page I see a message from a dear friend with whom we recently re connected (she and her husband live in the Dallas area)  Her message read:  “Did you received the book I sent you, see, I read your blog”  I was blown away and my heart swelled in thanksgiving and love for this lady who thought so much of me that she took it upon herself to find the book and have it shipped to me from England where she found it.

Carol, I know I sent you a message thanking you for your thoughtfulness and kindness, but I wanted to share with everyone who reads my blogs that because of you, I now have the opportunity to sate my desire to really read this book that impacted me all those years ago, even though I could barely understand it.  Thank you, thank you, thank you!!

‘Till next time!

Winter with those dark, gray skies, howling-bone chilling winds, heavy-wet and drifting snow were miserable for me.  One particular Saturday when the forecast was for heavy snow starting that evening, my husband decided to go into town to get some provisions and be back before the bad weather hit, or so he thought.  He got in the car and off he went; however, Mother Nature had other plans.  It started getting very dark quickly and soon a heavy, wet snow began to come down, it was such heavy snow fall that the snow drifts came to the middle of the back windows.  My husband, his name was Bill, had been gone for more than three hours, the temperature had dropped and I was worried that something may have happened to him; I was pregnant with my last child and had been ordered to bed rest.  Finally some five hours after Bill had left, there was a knock on the door and when our eldest son opened it, there stood my husband with icicles literally hanging off his nose, eyebrows and beard, he dropped the bags and collapsed on the couch beside me.  Under those miserable weather conditions, the car died on him and the wretched looking man had to walk about a mile to get home, and that became our last winter in Michigan.  Everything was not so bad during the winter months though, sometimes my husband’s boss would invite us to his home to have apple cider and other warm beverages and to ride on snowmobiles.  On one occasion, it was my turn for a ride and this very tall, broad man was driving and I, of course, was the passenger.  We had been riding for about an hour when the man asked me if I was cold, I said no.  I didn’t feel the wind because this man was so big, and me being economy size, the man’s size shield me from the wind so I didn’t feel cold; however, he was freezing!

After what seemed an eternity, the dark, cold days of winter became less cold and started giving way to the crisp, brighter days of spring when the air was filled with the aroma of different fruit blossoms, roses and other flowers.  I enjoyed spring time when we’ll go into the pine forest and hunt for morel mushroom and white asparagus by the railroad tracks.  I would cook those mushrooms with butter and what an awesome aroma, so delicious!   Very soon there came the long, humid, warmer days of summer.  Those long days were a novelty to me because in my country of Guatemala is 6 p.m. and is as if someone closes the shades and becomes dark, while in Michigan it was 10 p.m. and is bright day light.  During some of those lazy, warm summer days, we would go camping and we’ll let the kids play in the lake.  Some weekends, we would visit friends and grill, or just drive around the country roads.

The previous year we had made a trip and visited a town in the Gulf Coast of Texas,  we had been there four days when there was an order to evacuate because a hurricane had entered the gulf.  Upon arriving home, we learned that the hurricane had caused devastation in the town where we had been, phew!

After that miserable winter when we decided to move south, my baby was four months old when we packed and took a vacation before settling down in Texas.

Our choice for the vacation was to take our children to go see Niagara Falls.  Everything was going well until we were driving through Pennsylvania.  My husband was a very cautious driver and opted to drive the side roads so that we could see the country side of the places we were going through.  We had a station wagon, remember that those had side sitting in the back?  Well, the two older girls and two boys were riding there and all was well until my husband noticed in the rear view mirror that a state patrol car was chasing us with lights flashing…. I was scared and my husband told me that there was nothing to be afraid about because we had not been going fast….. well, the officer came asked for license and insurance, then the first question he asked was:  “Are all these children yours”  to which we both answered yes; then he asked the older boys if we were their parents and they said yes.  At that point the officer asked Bill to come to the back of the vehicle to open the tail gate, my husband did as he was asked and to his surprise one of the kids had a piece of cardboard where was written “HELP, I’M BEING KIDNAPED”  the sign had been put on the glass to be seen and read by whoever was behind us!!!   And this before we had reached our destination.  Needless to say, this child was moved to the middle of the back seat, directly within arm’s reach.

When we finally arrived first to Buffalo, we spent the night and the next day we headed to Niagara Falls, those spectacular, impressive falls – what a sight!  We visited the American side first then we crossed to the Canadian side where with me having some small kids, had the bright idea of putting dog leashes on my kiddos; of course, people gave me dirty looks but I didn’t care, I had my kids safe with me.  We spent two days in the area and then went back home to get our belongings and head south to the place we had chosen to become our new home.

 

Several years had passed since I left my family to live in the U.S.; it had never been my desire to come to this country, but life had other plans for me.  It had not been my husband’s wish to come back to his country either as he had started a business and it seemed that it was going to be successful, it was a hunting and fishing lodge.  We were beginning to get visitors and a person who visited several times was the U.S. Ambassador and other personnel of the Embassy; we also hosted a couple of photo journalists who worked for Field & Stream Magazine.

During those years, there was insurgency and a guerrilla movement in my country; we thought that we were too far away from the places where conflict was rampant; how wrong we were!  One day, a secretary from the embassy came and asked my husband to walk with him.  I had no idea what was discussed but afterwards, my husband told me that he had to leave right away because if he didn’t, the guerrillas were going to kill him.  And that’s the day my life changed!  It took fourteen months after my husband left for me to have my residency papers, and when I was called to the embassy to get them, my fate was sealed.  Eventually I too became a U.S. citizen.

Winter, spring, summer and fall came and went several times and my life became routine; I still didn’t drive and had to stay home with my children.  The day arrived when my first two sons went to school, and then the next and the next.  The children were growing so fast and being children, did naughty things such as:  raiding the pantry and fridge and the standard answers were:  Not me and I don’t know….. how I wish I had met those two people who lived in my home and never seeing them.  When one of the kids wouldn’t own up to something he or she had done, I would tell them:  “you know that I’m part indian and have the ability to read your foreheads and I will know who is not telling the truth”  My poor babies believed me!!  I would line them up, had them lift their hair off their forehead and I always nailed the guilty party.   That, of course, cemented their belief that mom could read foreheads!!  The reason I could accomplish that was because the guilty one would always lift the hair in a way that the hand will always cover the forehead…. Busted!!

Many years later, we were at the home of one of my daughters and as it was a summer weekend, some neighbors had come to grill and swim in the pool.  One couple had three kids, two girls and a boy, well, the boy was misbehaving and when the girls told on him, he denied everything his sisters told their parents; at that point, my daughter remembered what I did to them “reading their foreheads” asked the parents if they wanted to know who was the guilty party that because of my indian blood I could read in their foreheads who was misbehaving (of course, she explained to them how I did the forehead reading) The couple called their kids, lined them up, I asked them to lift their hair off their forehead, but before I could do the “reading”, the boy covered his forehead and owned up that he had been harassing the girls.  After that day, he was always threatened with me coming over their house to “read the foreheads”  Yeah, I know, mean old me!!

Having given birth to eight children four girls/four boys, (I call myself an equal opportunity mother) there was never a dull moment in my home.  I hated  winter time because the kids would go out to play in the snow, but kids being kids, it was unavoidable that as soon as they walked out the door, one would comeback running with the:  Mom, I need to go to the bathroom!!  And there I went peeling off layers of clothing starting with the mitts, cap, boots, snow suit, and then to put everything back on so he or she could go back outside.  It was a never ending task, a joy filled task, but a task none the less!!

’till next time!!