The best part of my job as secretary in the Neurosurgery clinic at the VA Hospital in Little Rock was talking to veterans. Most were nice, seeking a friendly face and relief from back or neck pain. Some carried brain tumors. Veterans came from all over Arkansas and surrounding states.
Files displaying a large red POW stamp made me pause. One day I allowed a WWII prisoner of war veteran to wait in my office when he arrived early for his appointment. He sat out of the way in the corner, and we talked as I prepared for clinic.
During that time a man came in my office demanding admittance to the hospital. Tall and flabby, he wore a sleeveless T-shirt, Bermuda shorts, long hair, and tattoos. Pulling a chair to my desk, he moved close beside me. “I’ve been shot five times saving lives in Vietnam. Why, I’ve even received a purple heart. I’ve sacrificed two years of my life for my country. They owe me. I am one hundred percent disabled, and I’m in pain. I demand to be admitted.”
“Only a doctor can admit you after examination,” I replied. The man left, saying he would be back.
The WWII veteran shook his head. “Mrs. Norma, he’s pulling your leg. Soldiers who’ve done all he said don’t brag about it. They don’t want to talk about it.
The hospital kept him overnight but never admitted him.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
The only way we can love each other is through the love of God.
In John 15 Jesus is preparing his disciples for His departure. He says to love one another as He loved us. Jesus’ love is sacrificial. Aren’t you glad it isn’t based on how good we are? But it’s hard to love some people. The only way we can love each other is through the love of God.
Jesus went on to say that we are no longer servants but friends. That’s intimate. He’s the best friend you will ever have. If you are not His friend you are in trouble. That breaks his heart. God wants to save everybody, not just a few. The door is open. It’s your decision. Jesus said come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest.
Greater love hath no man than this: that he lay down his life for a friend.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Do they taste healthy recipes?
Hmmm, marinated round steak; I have some. I can make that recipe. It must be healthy since it’s in a diabetic cookbook. I’ll pick up some mushrooms.
Trying to avoid fried foods, I made it. It looked great covered with mushrooms and meat drippings, but it was dry. Did I follow instructions? Do babies take to milk?
Who wrote this cookbook? I turned to the front. Aha. Developed by the Research Nutritionist of the General Clinical Research Center, School of Medicine, and the Registered Dietitians of the Department of Food and Nutrition Services, University Hospital, University of Alabama at Birmingham.
Wow! That’s why calories, fat, carbohydrates and other data are listed. Did anybody taste the final product? I wonder.
Trying to avoid fried foods, I made it. It looked great covered with mushrooms and meat drippings, but it was dry. Did I follow instructions? Do babies take to milk?
Who wrote this cookbook? I turned to the front. Aha. Developed by the Research Nutritionist of the General Clinical Research Center, School of Medicine, and the Registered Dietitians of the Department of Food and Nutrition Services, University Hospital, University of Alabama at Birmingham.
Wow! That’s why calories, fat, carbohydrates and other data are listed. Did anybody taste the final product? I wonder.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Eivis
September 9, 1956 Elvis Presley made his television debut on the Ed Sullivan Show. I was fourteen, but, unlike most teenagers, hadn’t yet caught up with the new rock-n-roll frenzy.
I had heard Elvis on the radio singing something about a houndog and blue suede shoes. The guitars, determined to drown him out, tied my nerves in knots. Rumor was that he danced vulgar when he sang. No, I didn’t like this Elvis guy, but I couldn’t wait to see him on TV.
For the younger generation, Ed Sullivan was an old man with a prune face and bent shoulders. He didn’t have a neck. Every Sunday evening an hour before church, he walked on stage with folded arms and spoke to a live audience. “Tonight we have a reeelly big show,” he’d say. Perhaps his amateur hour was the granddaddy of American Idol.
Elvis appeared on our fifteen inch black and white screen like a flashing Fourth of July night sky. Bending his knees every which way and shaking his middle, girls screamed, cried, and fainted. I had to admit he was handsome, but oh my, that dance.
Daddy, who played folk music for years with guitar, mandolin, and fiddle shook his head and grimaced. “That’s not music.” I agreed.
But when he sang "Love Me Tender",I swooned.
I had heard Elvis on the radio singing something about a houndog and blue suede shoes. The guitars, determined to drown him out, tied my nerves in knots. Rumor was that he danced vulgar when he sang. No, I didn’t like this Elvis guy, but I couldn’t wait to see him on TV.
For the younger generation, Ed Sullivan was an old man with a prune face and bent shoulders. He didn’t have a neck. Every Sunday evening an hour before church, he walked on stage with folded arms and spoke to a live audience. “Tonight we have a reeelly big show,” he’d say. Perhaps his amateur hour was the granddaddy of American Idol.
Elvis appeared on our fifteen inch black and white screen like a flashing Fourth of July night sky. Bending his knees every which way and shaking his middle, girls screamed, cried, and fainted. I had to admit he was handsome, but oh my, that dance.
Daddy, who played folk music for years with guitar, mandolin, and fiddle shook his head and grimaced. “That’s not music.” I agreed.
But when he sang "Love Me Tender",I swooned.
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