50 Million Americans!

I realize I write a weird blog. It's usually upbeat, but not quite always. Sometimes it is silly, sometimes bossy, sometimes sad. That's life, though, isn't it? Life is not flat. There are ups and downs. Having said that, I probably should warn you that today's post is very serious and rather a rant. I can't stop myself.

So, I'm going to tell you what has me going. This evening I heard on the news that the number of Americans killed by cigarette smoking over the last 50 years is now at 50 million. Think about that...50 million! That is 1 million people a year who's death is attributed to cigarettes. That is just in the United States! I simply can't comprehend how this can keep happening. How can we let so many people continue to die?  Think how panicked we would be if 1 million Americans had died during the last year due to influenza or chicken pox or alligators or strep!

Quite recently I was shocked to hear a man say he didn't believe doctors knew for sure that cigarettes could cause cancer. Although he had quit for several years, he decided to smoke again. Really? Two heart attacks, one requiring CPR, had not convinced him. Bladder cancer had not convinced him. COPD had not convinced him. He coughed and wheezed as we spoke. I had to wait while he caught his breath... more than once. It broke my heart.

When I was 24 years old my Grandpa Red died from lung cancer. I know I've talked about that before. He had been a smoker and it took his life. Grandpa had started smoking before he knew it was harmful. Those were the days when cigarettes were given to soldiers to help calm them. Before his death, he asked me to try to help stop young people from smoking. I've tried. I'm still trying.

I've been with people as they died from the result of those horrible cigarettes. I have seen their suffering. It is not a gentle death.

We have all heard of people who smoked well into their 90's. Well, I want you to know that they were the rare, lucky ones. 50 million people have been unlucky. Cigarette smoking causes damage to

E V E R Y...   S I N G L E...   O R G A N...  I N...  T H E...  B O D Y!

every single organ

all the organs

no organs are safe

This is a dreadful addiction. Most people I have met who smoke, began as teens. Sure, many knew better but we all know that those teen years are not always the best decision-making years. Did you know that it can take as little as 2 weeks for a teenager to become addicted to cigarettes? Also, for some reason the strength of the addiction is not the same for everyone.

I've known people who managed to quit cigarettes cold turkey. I've known people who struggled for a long time to end their dependence on cigarettes. I don't know the best way to quit but there are many aids available. Check out articles on WebMD, Reader's Digest or this Government Site. Seriously, just google "quit smoking" and there will be all sorts of help available. None guarantee it will be easy.

I'm done.... for now. Thanks for reading.

This one was for you, Grandpa Red.

Grandpa Red's Footstool

Elise recently become the next kid to really, really love my grandfather's footstool. I thought I had posted about that footstool before but I couldn't find it so maybe I didn't so now I will. Can anyone say, "run on sentence"?

My Aunt Michelle gave that footstool to my Grandpa Red maybe almost 50 years ago. I remember it when I was pretty young. I used it in lots of adventures as it could be flipped out and opened up in a variety of interesting ways. I think I pretended it was a boat a lot. Well, I was among the first group of grandchildren to play with that footstool but I most certainly wasn't the last. Many generations have enjoyed it! It has been reupholstered and it doesn't have all the adjustability it once had, but it still is precious to me.

When my Grandma Rose died and her house was sold, I didn't hear anyone wanting to claim the stool. My Aunt Michelle said that I could take it home so I did. I couldn't bear to think of it going to a dumpster! I don't think of myself as the owner of the footstool, but rather the keeper of the footstool. I know that I have cousins who played with it. My children and many of my cousins' children also played with it. Now, my grandchildren are enjoying it. I doubt very much that my Aunt Michelle ever dreamed of this footstool being a treasure to future generations but it certainly is!

My Tree

I pulled this tree up by the roots.

Well, it was a bit smaller when that occurred, as was I.  I guess I was about 5 years old or so and we were visiting my grandparents.  My cousin and I were playing in a vacant area nearby.  It was low and moist and there were a bunch of little seedlings sprouting up.  My cousin, Tim, and I each chose one and pulled it up because we knew our Grandpa Red loved trees.  Wouldn't he be proud of us?!  I remember feeling like we were bringing him such a remarkable treasure.

My Grandpa Red did indeed love trees.  However, their lot was getting pretty well wooded.  They lived right by an alley and there was more vacant land there.  At that time, their home was right on the edge of town.  Grandpa helped Tim and me dig holes and plant our treasures.  I didn't even live in that town so I likely would not have even remembered it by the next time we visited.  Grandpa Red, however, took loving care of our tree babies.

Well, time passed and that vacant land became the site of a new elementary school.  By that time our trees were of a pretty good size.  Somehow Grandpa found out that the powers that be were planning to remove our trees in order to landscape according to their own plan.  In Wyoming, where trees are hard to grow, that was not the best plan.  Grandpa actually went to a meeting and fought for our trees!  Isn't that just about the coolest story ever?

The trees stayed and grew.  When we came to town to visit, Grandma would often take photos of me in front of my tree.  When I married and came there with Mike, she took photos of both of us there.  Later, she did the same with our children involved.  

My tree has been hit with lightning several times over the years.

I think its scars just give it more character.

Grandpa Red died in 1982 but the trees lived on.  Grandma Rose died a little over a year ago.  On the day of her funeral my aunt took pictures of me and Tim in front of our trees.  I thought that would be the last time I posed by my tree. 

This past Sunday, when Sam and I went to visit my Mom, we drove by my grandparent's house.  Of course I had to stop and check on my tree.  It's still there.  It's still beautiful. It still makes me proud of my Grandpa.

A Thank-You to the Veterans

It's Veteran's Day!

It's pretty easy to just slip on past this day if you've no direct involvement with a veteran, isn't it?  I know there have been years when I took very little note of it.  Shame on me!

I think of myself as a peaceful person.  I think war is a symptom of our broken world.  I hate it.  I hate that we even need our military. 

However, I am very grateful to our military, past and present.  I know there is evil in this world.  I know many citizens of this Earth do not enjoy the freedoms that I so easily take for granted and I know that I owe a lot of that to our strong military. 

(A.G. McLaughlin - my Grandpa Red)

So to all those who are currently protecting us and those who have protected us in the past, I say a simple but heartfelt thank-you.

Thank-you for stopping by. Feel free to use my photos but please link them back to my blog. I am honored if you wish to share content of any of my posts on Facebook, Twitter, etc. as long as it is linked back to my blog.

Do You Think of Yourself as an Ancestor?

This is my Grandpa Red, probably before he thought of himself as anybody's ancestor.

Grandpa Red eventually became the father of six children.  My mom, on the left, was the second child born to him and my Grandma Rose.  She probably didn't think of herself as an ancestor yet either.

One thing I'm happy about is that my Grandpa Red was still living when we had Maria.  She was just a baby when he died but I still cherish some special moments as I proudly presented my baby to him.  Grandpa Red was from Texas and no matter what you think of Texas (Mike wants to MESS with Texas...in case you don't know, they have signs there that say "Don't Mess With Texas!") you have to admit that some pretty colorful sayings originated there.  When Grandpa looked at my sweet baby he said, "She's prettier than a speckled pup under a brass wagon!"

I glowed with pride!

I've never seen a speckled pup under a brass wagon but I know without a doubt that it would be a pretty sight to behold.

I heard Grandpa say something about being an ancestor. 

I remember how strange that sounded because I thought ancestors had to be really old.

Of course, no one begins life really old, not even ancestors.

When I look at Sam I sometimes think of my Grandpa Red.  I was delighted when Sam, at about 6 weeks old, developed a delightful version of red hair.  We gave credit to Ben because he'd said, "I hope our baby gets red hair."  However, I expect that was a genetic gift from my Grandpa Red, passing through several generations to end up on Sam's head.  It makes me happy.

Maria made a sweet painting that hangs in Cordelia's room.

It is a tree with names on the branches, names of Cordelia's ancestors.

Everyone on that tree contributed to the genetics now carried by Cordy.

Mike's name is on that tree; my name is on that tree!

I was looking at Cordy the other day.  Mike was playing with her and they just looked so cute together.  I felt my heart getting all warm and mushy.  I told him later that I had to admit that when we were dating in high school I never once remember thinking about our future grandchildren.  

I never thought of myself as an ancestor in the making.

But, here I am, an ancestor...

...and I love it!