Looking Back at Ambulance Service

Much has changed in a bit over sixty five years.  We look at ambulances today with trained EMTs and literally thousands of dollars of emergency medical equipment on board.  In the day of this ambulance  shown, their was specialization and funeral homes ran  most ambulance/hearse services.  

This orchid colored ambulance specialized in bringing mothers and new babies home from the hospital.  On May 24, 1949, our new son was ready to come home from the Capitol General Hospital in Oklahoma City.

We had picked a first name but were in a quandary over several possible middle names.  The owner of the ambulance introduced himself and his assistance, Don Petillo, as they prepared to take my wife and son to their current but temporary home in the country near some little new community called Midwest City, OK.  That name Don just kept hanging in our mind.  That is how our son got his middle name from an ambulance driver named Don Petillo.

Another time, my wife needed to get to te hospital in an emergency.  As I stated, there was no EMTs or medical equipment.  Ambulances provided one thing, speed to the scene and speed to the hospital.  I was never famous for slow driving.  In this instance, I followed the ambulance down the rough two lane NE 10th street to St. Anthony Hospital.  The ambulance with siren blasting and lights flashing, bearing my wife, was pulling away from me as it crossed the intersection at Sooner road.  I was exceeding ninety miles per hour.

As you read this, I suggest we all thank God for the  service that is available today.

McQuary's Baby Orchid Ambulance Service

Growing Up and Growing Old

I looked at photos of my high school home room class mates last night.  That was more than the three score and ten the Bible mentions as a probable life span.  Most of us were sixteen or seventeen years of age at that time.

My eyes strained to see the faces, to read the names as I picked out boys who were my friends or we had some special adventure together.  I also looked for the girls that I had admired, some for their beauty, some for their intelligence, and others for their talents.  Of course there was Miss Reynolds, one of the sweetest teachers I ever had.  She taught well but she also had a ready laugh, smile, and a sense of humor.  Some mean unnamed boy scared her with a king snake while on the Junior/Senior Picnic.  Some were well dressed (one girl was a professional model.  You could pick her from the crowd by her pose) and others wore patches.  It seemed to make little difference.  Some lived in nice houses, some lived on farms or ranches,  many lived in an area called the Frisco Camp. 

One boy of rather diminutive stature scared all the teachers and big athletes to death.  He was a nice boy but he had a vocabulary that would send any professor to the dictionary and he could tell you off  in one minute; it would take you five to figure out what he had said.  His names was Jones.  One boy, not in the picture, shined shoes and sold newspapers just to be able to stay in school.

A varied future was in the offing for these teenagers.  One was to custom make western hats for the famous movie stars.  One was a good trick rider until he was injured in the war in North Africa.  One was already working long hours as a meat cutter and delivering groceries.  One boy became a jeweler.  Another was a musician.  Most of them were just scattered to the winds when war reared its ugly face.  Life was short for some; long for others.  God only knows the degree of their happiness or sorrows.

The war ended.  Some were buried near where they fell.  Some never returned to Lawton, OK, which we called home.  For some, it no longer held a home.  A few had never left and others returned to live out their life while watching the little city of their birth expand and change.  I returned briefly and then again from 1949 to 1954.  In a city where I once knew most every face it was a rare occasion for me to see a familiar face except for the generation older than me.

I was very busy; occupied rearing my children and providing for my family.  I worked at a wide variety of trades from US Border Patrol to a Systems Analyst for the US Air Force.  I didn't really notice that I was getting older except people I knew were dying and my wife was very ill.  In 1980, my wife died.  I felt very old but I still had work to do.  In 1983, I remarried to a family friend and my children's mother's best friend.  I retired in 1985.  I was widowered again in 2007.

When I go to that cemetery where two wives are buried, I look around and mentally call roll on my friends and coworkers whose graves I could walk directly to.

I was old enough to retire, then after a while I was too old to need hunting and fishing license and my driver's license was free.  They gave me a special parking privilege next.  I was ready to learn the word Patriarch.  I was the eldest man in our church, the eldest in both my paternal and maternal families.  I was gaining new friends, mostly through the computer and Facebook, but they are all from the generation younger than me.

I looked with joy at that Home Room picture last night and re-lived many memories while looking at those smiling faces.  Slowly, the realization crept up on me; I am the only person in that picture who is still able to look at the picture.  It's a little like that book series; Left Behind.  But God has His reason.  I don't know why.  That's His job, not mine.

Wages, Costs, and Buying Power.

I had a conversation with a friend on Facebook this morning regarding my memories of her Grandfather Camm Sasser's General Store.  I recall it as a general store although it evolved slowly into strictly a grocery store; for instance my first pair of long pants, a pair of coveralls, was bought in this 'grocery store' in 1928.

My recollections are, of course, somewhat more vivid of the Dust Bowl/Great Depression Era in the 1930s.

I mentioned to her that beef was so cheap that her grandfather would just cut a convenient chunk from anywhere on the quarter (steak or roast meat) and grind it for hamburger.  This gave thought to me; why was beef so cheap when lack of grazing in the drought and dust should have created a shortage of beef.  Before that decade was finished, I was learning the meat cutter's trade in a grocery store.  We did stock and sell beef but our major selling items were salt pork jowl and salt pork bellies.  Why should this be??  There had to be a logical reason.We just stacked that salted meat on top of the counter and covered it with a clean butchers apron; it didn't require refrigeration.

Refrigeration?  How about those customers.  Some had ice boxes and a few wealthy ones were buying the new electric refrigerators.  Most didn't even have electricity.  The day to day workers in the city worked twelve hours per day for the sum of one silver dollar.  For 5¢, one twentieth of that dollar, he could buy one pound of salt pork that needed no refrigeration and could be cooked with beans or other food or breaded and fried.  One pound of hamburger cost 10¢ to 12¢ and required refrigeration.  Steak was about 18¢ per pound.  At one silver dollar per day, there was no great demand for the expensive steak or roast meats.  This compensated for the beef shortage I mentioned above.  Bologna. chicken wings, and chitterlings sold well on the week ends.

I mentioned to another lady I know about standing in front of Mr. Sasser's candy counter, clutching three or four pennies, maybe less, and taking an half hour to decide on that major purchase.  Remember; five of those pennies would buy a pound of salt pork for the family.

Just a question for today's world; how long since you saw a penny laying on the ground and debated whether to bother with picking it up?

Choices

Dear Lord,

 

       With Your thought and power, you brought a universe into being that is beyond our measure or comprehension and populated it as You saw fit with creatures and living things, some so tiny we can only see with great magnification but with forces that effect our very being. You knew us before we were created in our mother's womb, gave us the breath of life and a living soul. You gave to us a freedom of choice unknown to other creatures in your creation; to have a relationship with you or to do evil. Jesus paid the price for my sins and gave me the opportunity to choose. 

       I choose you, My Lord.     Amen

Food Combinations, What Was their Source

While sipping my cup of black coffee, I happened to recall Postum which people tried as a coffee substitute during WWII.   I'm thankful my coffee is not Postum.  Many other foods we tend to take for granted, then I became to wonder, "Where did they all come from?  What was the original source?"  I'll bet most people have read "Dissertation on Roast Pig."  Funny but it could have happened that way.  Did some master chef go to the local grocer and dream up these delicious dishes?  I just can't see it that way.

We have forgotten how to make use of it in day to day living but our Creator did a phenomenal job of providing food for us.  My father taught me that, although it might not be delicious, anything a horse would eat was not poisonous for me.

One dish I like is not common to everyone; scrambled eggs with onion and garlic and prickly pear cactus.  Weird huh.  You can buy it at your grocer; just look for a jar of Nopalitos in the pickle or Latino Foods section.  That is the cactus processed into tender spineless strips.  I doubt any connoisseur will be offering this on his menu.  I tried to think of a situation where this might happen.

I envisioned a Mexican vaquero out on the range, far from any point of renewing his supplies but running out of food.  Hunting had been fruitless.  If he butchered a calf, he would be in serious trouble.  He was down to using roasted dandelion root as a coffee substitute.  For days he had tossed paddles of prickly pear into a fire to provide food for cattle.  Sometimes, he found bird nests at the base of the cactus; some with newly lain eggs.  When he licked his fingers after handling the hot cactus, it didn't taste bad.  He was very hungry, occasionally chewing on wild onion or garlic, just for the taste and a little fiber in his empty stomach.

The evening fire would be of little comfort without some salt pork or beans to eat.  At least he could brew some dandelion root coffee.  As he gathered fuel for the fire, he spotted some quail tending a nest at the base of a cactus.  Desperate for food, he raided the nest for a few eggs, burned the needles from two or three cactus leaves and cut them into narrow strips, pulled up some wild onion and garlic plants, then put the vegetables in his skillet to cook a few minutes with some water.  As the water boiled away, he broke the eggs (huevos) into the vegetables (betabeles) with the cactus (nopales).  He found that his invention of necessity was delicious and a new dish was born; huevos con nopalitos (scrambled eggs with cactus strips).  

I guess that is the way food has evolved since man was being sustained by fruits, vegetables, and nuts.

Affection, Love, Romance in the Twilight Years

I had a visit yesterday from my granddaughter and her children.  I enjoyed it very much.  There isn't a great deal of social activity at the age of ninety years.  It isn't that we don't desire it.  We just don't have many friends who are still around and active.

I stay in touch with many people through e-mail and Facebook.  A few of us have met in person, spoke a few words, maybe had our photos taken.  Never a chance to really get acquainted.  Our contacts through the computer are very important and prevents loneliness.  To meet in person is a treasure.  Usually such meetings are in a group and for a very limited time.  Age does not put an end to the desire to spend more time with certain people.  The elements that attract us are totally different than most young people understand.

The curvature of the body or the muscular arms, the graceful movements on the dance floor, the sexual attraction of youth loses its importance compared to mutual interests and just the enjoyment of being in each others presence.  My late wife and I were such; just hours driving down a road or sitting together, perhaps watching a movie, but doing nothing but enjoying being together.

Contrary to popular opinion, marital sex doesn't cease to be important but that, too, assumes a peaceful aspect instead of a tempest.

In our visit, My granddaughter made comment how she and others thought a certain lady and I, in a photo, appeared to be 'in love' or 'sweethearts'; I forget her exact terms.  It set my mind to thinking.  I have friendly affection for several women that I have met in person; enjoyed our brief visits and chatting on the computer.  Most regard me as their grandfather.

Would I welcome a presence in my life, a pleasant voice, the touching of hands?  Yes, I would.  Have I forgotten the pleasure of an affectionate hug or kiss?  No I have not.  Am I looking for a wife?  No, I am not.  Consider that the women I hold such affection for were unborn or in diapers when I returned from the Army.  I have children about that age.

The lady in that photo?  She could not be more special.  My affections are like the cottonwood tree, perhaps a pleasant moment of shade, a nuisance blown on the wind, and fruitless.

Do Dreams Have a Message?

After only a brief period of sleep, I awakened from an unpleasant dream; not exactly what one could call a nightmare.  It was more of a reminder of what might have been.

With the loss of my grandson, my thoughts have been much about death these passed days.  I dreamed I went to visit my Mother.  She was very decrepit and nearly helpless, living alone except for her dog Brownie, depending on the kindness of others for her most basic needs.  Of course she was happy to see her 'baby boy' and reached out her arms to me.

Little Brownie, once a very frisky fox terrier, was happy to see me too.  He came to me to be petted and I reached to pick him up.  His little bones were showing and he flinched and yelped in pain at my touch.  I could not hold back my tears as I awakened.

Isaiah 57:1-2 tells us "The good perish while evil prospers and non layeth it to heart that God has taken them away from evil yet to come."  (from memory; perhaps a word or two wrong).

The things in my dream were far from the actual happenings.  My mother was never destitute, in need for any material thing, never hospitalized a day in her life, never bedfast for more than a few hours unless from childbirth which, being the youngest, I never witnessed.

My dream was not pleasant to experience but, in afterthought, did I just get a glimpse of (Evil Yet to Come)?  Have I again been reminded that when God takes a person from our midst, His act is one of tender mercy for that loved one.  Though we must bear our sorrows here on Earth; there are no disappointments, weariness, sorrow, or pain in heaven in the presence of our Creator.

Thank You, My Lord, for the brief pain of my dream and also for the reminder of Your Ways.