My little Shane

Every so often I find something on Facebook that is very meaningful.

Here are pictures of my great grandnephew Shane.  He's kinda cute.

https://www.facebook.com/eric.burger.355

The Man Without a Country

Way back when, and that's awhile ago, in elementary school, we had to read "The Man Without a Country".

The reason being...he dammed the United States and this was his punishment.    It was a lifelong sentence for uttering a few words.   Today, we would be more forgiving.

But, maybe not, and I'm thinking about Snowden who is trying to visit Ecuador.  He's a young man, but did he not have the sense to  realize that every country has tight security.  We rely on this security for protection...and he spilled the beans.,,,a whistle blower.

I just read in the Washington Post:

Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro on Friday said his country will offer sanctuary to Edward Snowden, the American intelligence contractor who disclosed a secret U.S. surveillance program.

Venezuela "decided to offer humanitarian asylum to the young American Edward Snowden so that he can live [without] ... persecution from the empire,” Maduro said, referring to the United States

This is a copy of the book that we were compelled to read in school.

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Plot .. 

The protagonist is a young United States Army lieutenant, Philip Nolan, who develops a friendship with the visiting Aaron Burr. When Burr is tried for treason (historically this occurred in 1807), Nolan is tried as an accomplice. During his testimony, he bitterly renounces his nation, angrily shouting, "I wish I may never hear of the United States again!" The judge was completely shocked at this announcement, and on convicting him, icily grants him his wish: he is to spend the rest of his life aboard United States Navy warships, in exile, with no right ever again to set foot on U.S. soil, and with explicit orders that no one shall ever mention his country to him again.

The sentence is carried out to the letter. For the rest of his life, Nolan is transported from ship to ship, living out his life as a prisoner on the high seas, never once allowed back in a home port. Though he is treated according to his former rank, nothing of his country was ever mentioned to him. None of the sailors in whose custody Nolan remains are allowed to speak to him about the U.S., and his newspapers are censored. Nolan is unrepentant at first, but over the years becomes sadder and wiser, and desperate for news. One day, as he is being transferred to another ship, he beseeches a young sailor never to make the same mistake that he had: "Remember, boy, that behind all these men ... behind officers and government, and people even, there is the Country Herself, your Country, and that you belong to her as you belong to your own mother. Stand by her, boy, as you would stand by your mother ... !" In his time on one such ship, he attends a party in which he dances with a young lady he had formerly known. He then beseeches her to tell him something, anything, about the United States, but she quickly withdraws and speaks no longer to him.

Deprived of a homeland, Nolan slowly and painfully learns the true worth of his country. He misses it more than his friends or family, more than art or music or love or nature. Without it, he is nothing. Dying, he shows his room to an officer named Danforth; it is "a little shrine" of patriotism. The Stars and Stripes are draped around a picture of George Washington. Over his bed, Nolan has painted a bald eagle, with lightning "blazing from his beak" and claws grasping the globe. At the foot of his bed is an outdated map of the United States, showing many of its old territories that had, unbeknownst to him, been admitted to statehood. Nolan smiles, "Here, you see, I have a country!" The dying man asks desperately to be told the news of American history since 1807, and Danforth finally relates to him almost all of the major events that have happened to the U.S. since his sentence was imposed; the narrator confesses, however, that "I could not make up my mouth to tell him a word about this infernal rebellion." Nolan asks him to have them bury him in the sea and have a gravestone placed in memory of him at Fort Adams, Mississippi or at New Orleans. When he is found dead later that day, he is found to have drafted a suitably patriotic epitaph for himself. The

 

A little food will do it!

I just had to include this in my blog because it's such a funny story about my snowbird friend, Joe.



SO IT WAS ANOTHER LONG TRIP. 

WHEN I CHECKED INTO A MOTEL IN LUMBERTON NC. I THOUGHT I WOULD HAVE IT EASY SNEAKING THE CATS IN. THIS TIME I USED A MOTEL WITH AN OUTSIDE ENTRANCE. I FIRST GOT THE OLDER CAT IN THE ROOM. THEN THE NEW ONE WHO WAS SCARED NEEDED TO BE DRAGGED IN. I THREW HER IN THE BATHROOM AND SHE STARTED YELLING VERY LOUD. SO I LET HER OUT AND PUT A HARNESS ON HER. USUALLY THERE IS NO WAY FOR A CAT TO GO UNDER THE BED EXCEPT NEAR THE HEADBOARD. AS I REACHED TO GRAB THE EXTRA PILLOWS TO CLOSE OFF THOSE HOLES I REALISED THAT THERE WASN'T ANY CLOSURE AROUND THE BOTTOM OF THE BED. GREAT! BUT AT LEAST SHE WAS ON THE LEASH. WELL NOT REALLY. SHE SLIPPED OUT AND WAS UNDER THE BED. 

I HAD TO TAKE ALL OF THE BEDDING OFF THE BED,THE REALLY BIG AND HEAVY MATTRESS,THE TWO BOX SPRINGS TO REACH HER. I GRABBED HER AND PUT HER IN THE BATHROOM AGAIN.SHE STARTED YELLING AGAIN. I TURNED THE TV ON VERY LOUD. I THEN PUT THE BED BACK TOGETHER. WHAT TO DO? I WASN'T GOING TO LISTEN TO HER AND THE TV ALL NIGHT. SO I JUST LET HER OUT AND FIGURED I'LL WORRY ABOUT IT IN THE MORNING.

AS SOON AS I PICKED UP THE CATS FOOD CONTAINER SHE CAME RUNNING OUT!!!!!!!!

NOW I'M HOT,SWEATY ,AND I HAD LOST MY APPETITE FOR DINNER. AND I HADN'T EATEN ALL DAY.........AND I DON'T KNOW WHY

Have I reached my saturation?

I realize I'm falling by the wayside.   I'm not really into Facebook or Twitter.

I'm signed in but I don't really participate.  Perhaps I'd get more readership if  I were more active...but for some reason I'm balking.   Maybe it's because I write a little more on a blog than I would on Facebook.

   I also don't own a I Pod or Smart Phone.

I do own a digital camera and an GPS...but the other stuff I don't know that I need any of it.   I'm considered pretty old now...and I think my technology is as useful as it's going to get.

My Burger family had sent me a Sony E Book but I really didn't like it.  I still enjoy holding a book and turning the pages.   An old expression, you can't teach an old dog new tricks.

I do have 'state of the art' hearing aids....but I don't hear as much as I should, even inserting new batteries.

I enjoy my skyping with my kids and Jeff and Donna have taken me in their backyard  for a viewing of their lush garden, naming all the flowers that I'm unfamiliar with. 
Donna even went so far to please me that she opened the Blue Jay bird cage...so I could see the mama sitting on her eggs.
Last week they were little hatchlings.
Ain't nature wonderfu



And last week I got to Skype with my baby Kane, and he was so wide away at 11 p.m. that I hated to say good night.   Becky and Eric even took me into his bedroom while they lowered him into his little crib.

I think I'm very fortunate to be able to witness all this.

When I stopped working at the radio station because I was ready to deliver, we didn't even have F.M. yet (frequency modulation)....so primitive.

I learned to drive on a stick shift, but I never managed to release the brake and press the clutch...and as a result, I would shift backwards.

But as I got older....I got a little smarter...I think.  That's up for grabs.
so  far to please me...she opened the Blue Jay bird cage...so I could see the mama sitting on her eggs.
Last week they were little hatchlings.
Ain't nature wonderful.

My niece and nephew Steve and Davi.

Life has dealt them so many unkind blows, yet they manage to 'overcome' their adversities.

To me...they're heroes.  I don't know if they'd appreciate my telling their story....but I love and respect them.

Jewish American Literature: 1970-2000 - My Jewish Learning

1 just love going to the library..but for some reason, when I see a Jewish author, I seem to gravitate to that book, hoping it's about a Jewish family.   Maybe it's because I'm so alone that I need another family to latch onto that will require nothing of me...or I wonder if they have the same memories or will trigger some  of mine.   I found this article interesting.
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The following article is excerpted from Moment Magazine (October 1999) and reprinted with permission of the author.

Jewish authors--authors who are Jewish, which is not quite the same thing--have made a huge splash in this century. Of course there are Bellow, Roth, and Malamud. These are our most celebrated Jewish writers. They have been observers of the growing distance between first- and second-generation Jews, between flight and return, and the grating of the new world against the old. Their works--of which we, as American Jews, are very proud--frequently bash the mores, the limitations, the restrictions of Jewish life.
We have grown used to these criticisms and mostly let them roll off our backs. But you have only to pick one theme--the Jewish male and the shiksa, for example--to see in all their work a Jewish guilt, a deliberate rejection of things Jewish, a glamorization of the stranger and a ridiculing of the familiar, repeated and played out again and again. These three writers show us the fierce, striving, ambitious, nonreligious, nontraditional, and for the most part, nonknowledgeable but smartass Jew who knows his Kierkegaard but not his Rambam (Maimonides). In these writers, who emerged in the '50s, '60s, and '70s, we have the voice of the American Jew moving into the mainstream, Yiddish jokes, sad stories, pressuring mothers, self-sacrificing mothers, beautiful blondes, pain of the soul, Jewish references everywhere, smart Jewish boys who always know the answers, and anti-Semitism.
It's not just Malamud, Bellow, and Roth; it's also Herbert Gold and Joseph Heller and Norman Mailer and Arthur Miller and Woody Allen. Take Malamud's "The Magic Barrel." This story is many things and can be read many ways, but to me it is the emblematic story of assimilation. Leo Finkle is a rabbinical student at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York. He needs a wife. His Old World parents want to arrange a marriage for him, but he wants to fall in love, American style. Alas, he's too shy to find a wife on his own, and eventually he resorts to calling the matchmaker.
The matchmaker suggests several suitable women, but Leo rejects them. At last he catches sight of a picture of a woman who draws him. She turns out to be the matchmaker's own fallen, miserable daughter. He cannot help himself. This marriage will lead to pain, to love. In this little story Malamud marks a shift from communal life into the difficult, often painful life that is a simultaneous celebration and damnation of the individual soul, America's gift and its curse.

From my friend Nancy Wainer ... so warm!

I never thought I would get another dog. The pain of losing my beloved Skippy was so intense, I didn't want to ever have to go through that again. But... I saw this little one's photo on one of the rescue sites that I had signed up on a long, long time ago ( truly never  thinking I would get another dog as I just said)  and I knew he had to be mine. There were several other families who wanted him - but The Universe must have known he was mine, or his wonderful foster mother must have heard the pleas in my emails and through the phone calls,  and I was the one selected to be His Person. 

Steve and I went to Connecticut yesterday to meet the huge transport van called AlphaDogTransport which is airconditioned but quite dark. Rows and rows of crates  - the full length of the van and stacked on shelves as well - with all sized and variety of dogs in them, going to their forever homes from all over the South.  My puppy came from  Missouri - he was rescued along with his siblings. They were not going to be treated well and I am SO grateful to the rescue organization - all volunteers - who do this work -and the many other people and places who are concerned with animal cruelty.  Sundae ( I named him this as he is vanilla, mocha/coffee with a little bit of chocolate and he is so sweet and he licked us the minute  he met us) had been fostered from six weeks until ten in Illinois. His foster Mom, when she put him on the van she emailed:  " Your baby is on his way. Please let me know when he is safely snuggled in your arms."  Sundae was on that van for two full days and nights, poor thing. And yet, when he got off the van and was handed to us ( me, crying tears of such relief and joy) he - and all the other dogs who's People were waiting for them at the same stop.... dog after dog, being hand carried (the ones who were not too big) by the wonderful, gentle men who do the driving) and presented to their new owners - seemed to KNOW they were being rescued/adopted.Tails wagging, such a joyful reunion after having waited the weeks since we all knew that we had found our pet...  It was VERY,VERY touching - I looked over and Steve had tears in his eyes, too... 

We split the driving on the way home and  I held him part of the way and Steve held him the other half. Sundae loves his toys, chew sticks and stuffed animals. He is so playful and sweet. We don't know what he is - part Maltese but maybe part terrier or shitzu - but whatever he is, he is here, h-o-m-e. I know the pain of losing an animal and I will treasure every single day I have with him and do my best to focus on just the delight ahead. He will have all the love and care any pet could want.  Steve is sitting with him and they are watching Sunday morning news programs and we are in love. 

I was a tomboy!

Parents and grandparents may remember this one from childhood. To play the 7-Up game, all you need is a smooth, flat surface (a wall or a floor) and a bouncy ball, such as a tennis ball. If you have a safe, open indoor space (without breakables), you can even play 7-Up inside. Best of all, kids can play the 7-Up game alone—no need to recruit an opponent or teammate.

Difficulty: Easy

Time Required: 20-30 minutes.  I spent so many hours playing this ball game and I was very fortunate, we lived next door to a Ukranian church that had a very high wall.    Many years of my life I enjoyed this ballgame.   Maybe your kids would be interested it in too.  No high tech stuff here...just toss the ball...and no one is judging you.   Do it...so much fun.

Here's How:

1. Find a safe space to play. Outside, you need a flat area where you can safely bounce a small ball, such as a tennis ball or a rubber ball. The 7-Up game is traditionally played against a smooth wall or even a garage door. Brick or concrete works better than aluminum siding, and a broad space without windows works best. But you can also the play 7-Up game against the ground if you don't have a good wall to use.
2. The object of the game is to bounce the ball against the wall a set number of times while performing a skill in between bounces. The skills are as follows (but your memory may vary!):
3. Sevensies: Bounce the ball against the wall seven times. Catch it on the seventh time. 
   No-wall version: Bounce the ball against the ground seven times.
4. Sixies: Bounce the ball against the wall and then allow it to bounce once on the ground before you catch it and throw it again. Repeat six times. 
   No-wall version: Throw the ball up in the air 6 times (no bounces).
5. Fivesies: Bounce the ball on the ground five times. 
   No-wall version: Bounce the ball on the ground 5 times, but throw it hard enough so it bounces up over your head. Catch on the way down.
6. Foursies: Bounce the ball from the ground to the wall and then back to you (this is the opposite of what you do for Sixies). Repeat four times. 
   No-wall version: Throw the ball up, let bounce, then catch. Repeat 4 times.
7. Threesies: Bounce the ball on the ground first, then use your palm to bat the ball against the wall, then catch it before it bounces on the floor again. Repeat three times. 
   No-wall version: Bounce the ball, then hit it down again before catching. Repeat 3 times.
8. Twosies: Toss the ball under your leg and bounce off the wall, then catch. Repeat. 
   No-wall version: Bounce the ball under your leg, twice.
9. Onesies: Throw the ball against the wall, spin around completely (360 degrees), then catch the ball before it bounces. 
   No-wall version: Throw the ball up in the air, do your spin while it falls and bounces, then catch.
10. Want to keep playing? Repeat the whole process, but add in a clap of the hands between each throw/bounce. Then add two claps, and so on.

What You Need

• Bouncy ball, such as a tennis ball or soft, small rubber ball and a little patience.   I would love to think a child would want to play this because it lent so much enjoyment to my childhood.   These were my only balls that didn't go down the sewer.

• O

Our Canine Friends

My heart melts when I look into a doggy's eyes.   They're animals I know but they have such a trusting look.

When a person becomes an owner of a pet...that's taking on about 17 years of caring for it....actually almost as much as if you had a child and then the child went off to college so that's about the same span of time.

When I was a child, anyone who owned a dog had a 'mutt' and we got it from someone whose dog had puppies.   We never bought one, nor did we ever take it to a vet.    Actually our accumulation of dogs through the years knew when they were sick,  and they'd know instinctively to  eat a special kind of sour grass outside...kind of like a 'tum' today....it would make them throw up and then feel better.

And when I was a child, if our dog puddled on the floor, we'd rub his nose in it and then he would get the idea.   Our dogs were always trained to go outside.

We didn't have any doggy doors for them either...if they wanted to come in or out, they just barked and we answered.

Actually we never bought dog food either.  They ate the same foods we did and loved every morsel.  And on Friday nights they always ate chicken.

As for buying special toys for our dogs, if we played with a ball...they did too.   Or we'd throw a newspaper and they'd retrieve it.

We never put a sweater on a dog in winter!   If  he shivered, we put him under our heavy winter coats.

Today I see very spoiled dogs...getting all groomed at the doggy salon...and special doggy vitamins...but most of all, the wardrobe for the dogs.

Are people trying to make their little dogs into 'people'.  I see them in strollers wearing sunglasses and a visor.

There's an old adage about it being a  'dog eat dog' world.   If there happens to be another life for us, frankly, I wouldn't mind coming back like a pet dog.

Good life and lots of hugs!

the miracle of Skyping

The time is 11 o'clock at night and my phone rings.   I'm not at all upset because this is when Eric and Becky usually phone me.   They live in Kansas City, Mo. and it's a little earlier there.

Also this isn't about my time...this is the time Baby Shane is up and wide awake.   He's just had his bottle, been changed, and he's happy.

His parents talk to him constantly and I think he enjoys just having been born...his smile tells it all.

His little arms and legs have filled out and he tried walking up Eric's chest, even though he has no knee caps yet

His eyes are really bright and his head is upright.   He was enjoying himself....and I was too....also his mom and pop.

I think it's so wonderful that they bring me into his life....it's almost the same as being there.  

Becky same a song with a lot of verses and he loved it. I'm not bragging about it...just explaining the facts.   His motor skills are very advanced.

There is nothing in this world like a baby...especially if he's yours.