So much has happened this week. Life has it's ups and downs and I thought I'd share with you some advice on how to reduce the stress in your lives to a more manageable level.

1. Bloom where you are planted. It always helps to make the best of a bad situation.



2. Be sure to keep a trunk packed and ready to travel. Life is so much more fun when you aren't rushing around doing last minute chores.



3. Work goes faster when shared. Always accept help from anyone when offered.



4. Always be sure to treat yourself to fresh fruits and vegetables. A balanced diet gives you energy for the hardest tasks.



5 Take time to stay in touch with friends.



6. Nap wherever and whenever you can. Nothing is as refreshing as a good nap.

We finally have birds at our feeder. I don't really know how long they've been there because I frankly had given up watching it. Months of no activity became disappointing, plus I've been very busy with Dad in the hospital. I wake up every morning to the sounds of birds singing, and other than the robins that told me 2 weeks ago that spring had finally arrived, and the starlings I see all the time, I hadn't caught sight of any other birds.

Two days ago I noticed bird seed on the resting ledge at the front of the feeder, which indicated that something had been into it. Then we saw a Blue Jay attaching himself and having a quick snack. I didn't think they'd be able to feed from there, but they can. I was happy with that because I like them. I know that Jays are the juvenile delinquents of the bird world, but there's something about those naughty males that appeals to me. Come to think of it, I like the bad boys of all species. Well, except for the skunks. Anyway, the jay appeared a couple of more times and I thought at least one bird will feed from my feeder so it isn't a total loss.

Last night just after dinner there was another bird. He wasn't very colorful really, kind of a slate gray with a white belly. Plump little thing that I thought rather nondescript until he took off in flight. You see, when he spreads his wings, these two white streaks on each side of his tail. I went to the window and there on the ground below the feeder were half a dozen birds. Three of them were that slate gray with white belly and three of them were sort of a brownish gray also with white bellies. They'd feed for a bit on the ground, go up to the feeder and then back to the ground. Hubby wasn't sure but he thought they were Snowbirds.

It took me a bit to find a picture of them, and Hubby was right. They are a species of North American Sparrow called a Junco, and are more commonly referred to as Snowbirds. The Blue Jay doesn't seem to like that they are there, but they don't pay him the least bit of attention. I was hoping for Finches or Chickadees because they are so colorful, but Jays and Juncos will do. Who knows what else will visit as the spring progresses into summer? The Juncos are migratory but the Jay will probably stay.

We didn't move the feeder because we were concerned about the roaming cats climbing up the tree to it and chasing the birds away. This means that until the weather gets better and I can go outside with my coffee, I get to sit in my living room and watch the birds feed at the feeder. Listen to their song, and ease into my day.

With my Dad in the hospital, and the necessity to go see him every day, I'm finding it hard to do posts, answer my comments and visit around and leave comments. I'm reading blogs, but with dialup sometimes it takes so long for the comment box page to open that I just don't leave comments. If I gave up doing housework, I'd have more time, but I don't think I'd like the end results.

Dad is on the 4th floor in the rehab unit, so he has therapy 2 times a day. Which means that unless I get there during a break, I don't get to talk to him, just watch him exercise or if I go at lunch time, watch him eat. Yesterday I timed myself to arrive just as he would be finishing his lunch which would give me time to visit before his next therapy session. Well, I thought it would anyways. I neglected to factor in one detail. Finding a parking space.

The hospital has been constructing a state of the art emergency wing for the last year or so. The equipment used by the contractors, the office trailers and the emergency wing itself has apparently taken up hundreds of parking spaces. They technically have 5 surface parking lots. Employees, of course always park close to the building, but when Mom was there the farther parking spaces were plentiful. Even after the construction began, I could still find a spot. It meant walking from close to a block away, but I could get parked.

Then the hospital established a valet parking service. Which, of course reserved the farthest spots for their use. Leaving the visitors to either use the service or drive around and around to find a spot to park. Hundreds of cars park there every day. Maybe 6 use the service. I have a problem with strangers driving my car. Not only that, you have to hand over your keys. My ring contains my house keys, Hubby's van keys, and my office key. In this day and age, why would I hand these things to strangers? After looking at the situation yesterday, I'm not the only one who feels like that.

I left the house around noon yesterday. It's a 15 minute trip to the hospital, I should have been up on the floor with Dad around 12:30. I arrived on the floor at 1:15. The parking lot is established so that the driving lanes are wide enough for cars to pass each other comfortably when traveling in opposite directions. Spaces that would require you to back out of your spot are wide enough to back out of the spot without damaging your neighbor. Well, they are usually.

Yesterday the driving lanes were reduced to the width of one car by people parking on both sides of the lanes. Parking spots that back towards islands of grass were made difficult by people parking parallel to the islands. One lot had it's entrance blocked by parked cars. As you are driving along trying to find a parking spot you realize that half the parked cars are using one and a half spots. Pickup trucks with King or extended cabs are using 2 spots, front and back. I watched one woman driving one of those really big pickups with the 4 wheels in the back drive through what should have been a wide driving lane. The side view mirrors on her truck just barely went through.

I decided to leave and come back later when I saw that if I went up the circle to the exit of the lot that had it's entrance blocked I could park my car, and surprisingly that spot was pretty close to the front entrance. The hospital has 3 elevators. Unfortunately the visitors elevator has been closed for repairs for the last month and a half.

This is the 4th floor I'm going to, I'm using the elevator, which means I have to use the elevator they use to bring patients down from ambulatory surgery, or the elevator used to transport the meal carts. I won't use the patients elevator, so there was a wait for the other working elevator. At least my waiting time was spent talking to the elevator repairman who is actually finally working on the closed for repairs visitors elevator. All this for 20 minutes with Dad. I think I'll start going after supper from now on. Once the daytime employees go home, I can safely park my car without worrying about it getting run over.

The more things change, the more they stay the same. I've heard that but haven't always believed it. Change is supposed to be just that...change. So if there is change, how can things stay the same? Since things have stayed the same, why do we say we've progressed? All very good questions I suppose, but I would much prefer to hear some good answers.

What I'd really like to do today, right now, is sit and have a cup of coffee and a conversation with "Born On The Fourth Of July" author, Ronald Kovic. He and S. Brian Willson are original members of a group called Vietnam Veterans Against the War. He is a decorated U.S. Marine who served two tours of duty in the Vietnam War, where he was awarded the Bronze Star and the Purple Heart. In combat on January 20, 1968, he was shot and suffered a spinal cord injury that left him paralyzed from the chest down. He became one of the best-known peace activists among the veterans of the war. Kovic has been arrested for political protest 12 times. I never read the book, but I did see the movie. Tom Cruise played him.

Last month a group of returning Iraq war veterans complained about conditions at Walter Reed Medical Center. The news media picked up on it and exposed the fact that our returning injured were being forced to live in moldy, rat infested rooms while receiving medical treatment for their wounds. Many of them received inadequate treatment, and on our local news was the story of one veteran of the Iraq War who is permanently disabled and it took the Veterans Administration three years to approve his pension. He carries things in his head that make him unable to walk correctly, or speak without slurring his words. Most people who don't know him think he's drunk all the time. Yet, it took the Veterans Administration three years to decide that due to the nature of his wounds, he is too disabled to keep a job and is therefore entitled to a pension. I suppose they had to investigate the possibility that he was goldbricking or something? Why aren't we treating our Iraq War veterens better than this? Whose fault is this?

I'd like to know what Mr. Kovic thinks about all this. The reason is that in 1974 he led a group of disabled Vietnam Veterans in wheelchairs on a 17-day hunger strike inside the Los Angeles office of Senator Alan Cranston. The veterans protested the "poor treatment in America's Veterans Hospitals" and demanded better treatment for returning veterans, a full investigation of all V.A. facilities, and a face-to-face meeting with head of the V.A. Donald E. Johnson. Mr. Johnson did finally meet with Mr. Kovics protesting veterans. Did the meeting produce anything positive, other than Mr. Johnsons resignation? If there were positive changes, what happened to them between 1974 and 2007?

Another thing I'd like to ask him is whether or not he believes we really do have freedom here in America. We are supposed to be the country where our freedom of speech is guaranteed by our constitution. If we really do have freedom of speech, why was he arrested twelve times for protesting the Vietnam War? Exactly what could a man paralysed from the chest down and confined to a wheelchair have done while protesting, that he deserved to be arrested? If we really do have freedom of speech, aren't we entitled to question the workings of our government without being labeled a terrorist? Maybe the answer to that would come from S. Brian Willson.

In 1987, while engaged in a protest of U.S. weapons to Central America, an action publicized in advance, Willson and other members of a Veterans Peace Action Team were blocking the train tracks at the Concord, California Naval Weapons Station. Due to a government policy decision, the train refused to stop, and the veterans were injured when the train did not slow down as they expected. Willson was hit, run over, and nearly died. Ultimately, he survived but lost both legs below the knee while suffering a severe skull fracture with loss of his right frontal lobe, among other injuries. Subsequently, he discovered that he had been identified for more than a year as an FBI domestic "terrorist" suspect under President Reagan's anti-terrorist task force provisions and that the train crew that day had been ordered to not stop the train to prevent any Hijacking attempts. Willson filed a law suit contending that the Navy and individual supervisors were given ample warning of their plan to nonviolently remain on the tracks, and that the crew had plenty of time to stop--which the subsequent official Navy report confirmed. Surprisingly, the train crew filed a law suit against Willson, requesting punitive damages for the "humiliation, mental anguish, and physical stress" they suffered as a result of the incident. Their suit was dismissed. Willson later agreed to settle his lawsuit against the Government and train crew for $920,000. He now walks with prostheses.

Come to think of it, I guess in writing this essay, I actually have answered most if not all of my questions. The change has been in government administrations, Congress, the President and the year. Instead of 1967 when we were fighting a futile war in Vietnam, it's 2007 and we're fighting a futile war in Iraq. Our returning veterans are still being mistreated, and we are still being investigated by the FBI under the aegis of "The Patriot Act". Yes, things have changed, but mostly they've stayed the same.

I was going to do this post as a Dear Mr. President letter requesting that since he wouldn't serve his country when he was a young man then he shouldn't expect the young men of America to give their lives up for his folly. I went to the virtual Vietnam War Wall, and was in the process of looking up the statistics for Lance Corporal Bradford T. Griffen who was a school friend of mine, when I came upon a letter written by a fellow Roman to his baby brother.

Brad Griffen was one year ahead of me in school, his brother Mark was in many of my classes and it would probably be more accurate to say that Mark was a friend. Still I knew and liked Brad and I have grieved his death in Viet Nam for most of my life now. That is a long time to grieve for a life cut short. Brad died 8 days before my 18th birthday 40 years ago.

Bradford Thomas Griffin
Lance Corporal
G CO, 2ND BN, 9TH MARINES, 3RD MARDIV
United States Marine Corps
09 August 1948 - 12 September 1967
Rome, New York
Panel 26E Line 062

During September 1967 the 2nd Bn, 9th Marines was conducting defensive operations between Con Thien and Highway 9, an area notorious for its vulnerability to NVA artillery and mortar fire. On 12 Sep 67 Golf 2/9 lost five men to these fires:
Cpl Roy J. Juers, East Norwich, NY
LCpl Bradford T. Griffin, Rome, NY
LCpl Marlin L. Price, Mulga, AL
Pfc Robert F. Bigelow, Lowell, MA
Pfc Chester K. Hutchison, Fort Lauderdale, FL

There were 6 young men who died in Viet Nam from Rome, but the Virtual Wall only lists 3 of them. While looking for two of the young men that are not listed, I found the next entry and felt that this letter to a baby brother said what needs saying so much more eloquently than I could

John Michael Tanney
Lance Corporal
L CO, 3RD BN, 26TH MARINES, 3RD MARDIV
United States Marine Corps
19 February 1949 - 23 September 1968
Rome, NY
Panel 42W Line 002

Dear brother Bob:
I know that you won't be able to read this for a while, but I just felt a compulsion to write to you anyway. I'm waiting to be picked up by helicopter with the rest of my buddies to push on to Hills 861, 881, 881 North, and 689. My platoon is spearheading the assault up Hill 881 North. The enemy has many soldiers up top and they are dug in as well as we are at Khe Sanh (a Viet Cong siege of U.S. Marines). It will be a hard and bitter struggle, but as always, we Marines will take the objective.

You are little now and haven't the slightest idea of what is going on in the world, but what we are doing here concerns all. It is important for you to remember that we are fighting for freedom for Viet Nam. The Bible says "I am my brother's keeper". This is also true for our Viet Nam brothers.

Someday, when you come of age, you too will render your services to your country. You do not have to join the Marine Corps because I did. Just fulfill your duty - your privilege. Yes, it is a privilege to fight for a noble cause. War is far, far worse than hell. Men are torn apart like a worn-out rag doll. War has a smell to it. It is the smell of charred flesh. War has sounds. They are the sounds of men dying. Bob - I hope that you will never have to go to war. I hope that we can stop this thing from spreading. I hope that the men of peace will sit down and discuss living in peace - but, alas, I hope in vain.

I am nearly going crazy thinking about assaulting that hill. But, I am a Marine and I shall not falter. I will be confident in the Lord and in my training as a Marine. Bob - if anything should happen, remember this: I am fighting for what I believe in - you, Mom, Dad, Tom and Cindy. I am fighting for the right to chose my own religion, make my own decisions, and to be my own man. And yes, I am fighting for my flag. My country means a lot to me and I am proud to fight for it. I know that you will be, too.

You know, I am over 18 years older than you and I have spent so little time with you. But, you are near to me not so much in my mind as in my heart.

I hope that your generation of people will respect what we are doing here. I hope that they will understand that we, too, love life. We have lost many friends and now it is time for the enemy to lose some.

We are United States Marines. We are the best troops in the world. We fight odds that are heavily against us - and win! Our spirit is indomitable, our courage unexcelled, and our loyalty is unquestionable.

I felt like writing to you. Perhaps it sounds foolish. Perhaps it is. But you can never imagine what it is like - not knowing if I'm coming back down that hill. I wanted you to have something from me to you. I love you, Bob, but you are too young to know it. Someday you will know.

I will leave now - time is short.

Love to you,
Brother John

Please, lets keep working for an end to our involvement in Iraq. We can't win there any more than we could in Viet Nam.

Taps is now playing in comment section where I placed the list of the Iraq War dead from New York State.