How often do we pass by a spot, a street corner, a house, an old building and give it no thought, only to have that place become a center point in our lives at a later date?
When I was a wee lad, still confined to a stroller, my father would take my brother and I into an empty field to fly kites. At the time we were living on the corner of Margaret and Floral Avenue in a second floor apartment. At the other end of Margaret Street, the old Kilmer farm lands were empty fields. The only structure in the area was the National Armory. Now, I was all of three years old, so all I know is what I was told, but apparently I sat in my stroller and watched clouds float or grass grow, because it seems the kites rarely flew. But once the kite disappeared, or crashed beyond repair, I would be freed, and the three of us would cavort all over the empty space. Incredibly, at some juncture of space, the three year old me wandered over the exact spot my someday three year old grandchild will wander over. Only it will be his living room.
How many times did I walk through the halls of Lincoln School as a child with no idea I would end a career there? Or when I sat in Mrs. Latta’s sixth grade class, could I have imagined that one day I would be in charge of that same room?
One year, we took a field trip to Cooperstown. On the way there the bus stopped in Oneonta at this dumpy diner on Chestnut Street. Nine years later, I would live a few yards from Nick’s and would spend a lot of hours there.
While at Oneonta, I would often hitchhike home for a weekend. Most of the time, I would be deposited someplace near Hillcrest. I would walk to the old Grand Union ( Now Laura’s Luncheonette ) and call home. Dad would jump in the car and come to fetch me; I would start walking down Chenango Street watching for the old Crown Victoria. How many times did I walk by 719 Chenango Street with no idea I would spend most of my life there?
In the summer of 1965, my mother, father and I drove around the state of Vermont. Dad and I spent several weeks pouring over maps, planning our route. We wanted nothing to do with driving through a gigantic city like Albany so we decided to cross the Hudson River at Catskill and take route 9 north. After passing through Hudson, we must have driven through a little wide spot in the road named Columbiaville. In one of those houses we flew by without much thought there was a young lady. What was she doing that day? Was she in the yard, glancing up as our car whizzed past, totally unaware that she would spend three quarters of her life with the driver?
How many unnoticed , unthought-of places did I pass today?

Just For Fun

I got great pictures of myself yesterday. Usually my pictures look like a wanted poster in Terrorist Central, but this one was clear, pink and healthy looking. You couldn’t see my face, but the inside of my colon looked great.

The whole adventure started about a month ago, when one of the regular health tests showed a “slight” chance of a problem. Since this was the exact phrase used six years ago about my PSA results, it was not reassuring. Three years ago, I would have freaked out, worried myself sick about it and been a wreck. This time, I did what I have come to believe. I scheduled the “Big Exploration” and refused to worry about it until the Monday morning I would need to “prepare”. Oddly, (or is it that miracle world that surrounds us, but we fail to notice) the Saturday before “lift off” we listened to Sister Bridget do a three hour talk on “ Discerning God” , a talk that deserves a writing all its own. Anyway, one of the ways God talks to us is through dreams. Sunday night I must have had a dream. Since the Prostate operation I have lost the ability to remember any dreams I have, but, I woke up Monday morning with total peace that everything was fine.
So the entire event was kind of interesting. And fasting for the entire day revealed some things about myself. For one thing, I could never be a contestant on Survivor. Physical Challenge? I’m ready. A few bugs, dirt, same cloths for forty days? Just like home. Miss breakfast? No morning coffee? Not a chance!!! By the end of the first day I would be actively campaigning for legalized cannibalism. “ Jeff! Vote food off the Island? Are you nuts? Throw them in the pot!” That attitude might hurt my “social” game.
On Monday, I made it until 1 in the afternoon before I started to stare at the cat. Don’t ever think cats are dumb. Frankie took one look at me and disappeared. The “pre” directions said to start drinking the solution at 6 PM. I was ready to start at 5:30. Anything would have been welcome. Most people complain about the solution but, I have drunk worse stuff at Phi Delt Rush parties.
Tuesday morning we went to Lourdes for the big event. I must note that the nurses there were great. They all have a sense of humor and were pleasant beyond belief. After donning the latest fashion gown, they stuck a big needle in my hand and wheeled my cart to the procedure room where I was wired into a monitoring machine. Every five minutes my blood pressure, oxygen content and heart rate were checked. I tried to bio feedback the readings with pretty good results. I got the heart rate from 65 to 58 and the blood pressure from 176/ 107 to 160/ 97. OK , so maybe I wasn’t as relaxed as I thought.
Anyway, the doctor came over, said a few words to me, turned to the nurse and said, “ We will start initiating anesthesia now. You will feel a warm sensation and perhaps a little ------ “
and I was telling Kay I wanted poached eggs for dinner -- apparently for the sixth or seventh time. She agreed and told me the test was perfectly clear --- apparently for the sixth or seventh time. We came home, I had a great afternoon nap and poached eggs for dinner. Life is good!!