Saturday was a beautiful day here in Southern California, perfect for catching a Little League baseball game. I like to arrive early, but not so Mike.  There is a reason for my early arrival, I need to get on the bleachers so I can sit on the bottom row or use the handrail to go up any higher so that I do not fall. Did you know that falls are leading cause of death for people 65 and older?  I have had my share of falls and am very cognizant of my surroundings. I’m not scared, but just extra careful.

At the game on Saturday we arrived a little late, so that meant the the bleachers were pretty much filled with spectators. To add to my dilemma our daughter Sonja was sitting on the top tier. “Mom, come up here!” she says. I was a little stressed out because these bleachers may only have five tiers, but that is still a long way to the ground if you miss your footing. I squiggled my way up, knocking over  several bottles of water  with my huge handbag, and finally sat down. I wanted to get into the game but my only thought was, how am I going to exit? Sure enough, Mike wanted to leave early. That meant that everyone sitting on the side where the guardrails were, had to clear out of the way in order for me to feel safe. I looked at Sonja and said, “What do I do?” She laughed and told me, “Geez, Mom, just step down!”

The first time I took a really bad fall was about 5 years ago, when Mike and I were walking our dog Shadrach. Right before we turned to our street, I looked at my watch and told Mike that if we walked for 15 more minutes it would complete an hour. Mike said that he was not wearing the right shoes, and decided to go home. I continued the walk without him. Just a few blocks from our home, Shadrach suddenly crossed in front of me and my tennis shoe got caught in an uneven part of the sidewalk. It was dusk, and I was walking on busy street. It happened so fast that I could not free myself to break the fall. I landed on my face. I honestly heard bones cracking, and, my brain rattled, I got up only to discover that a warm gush of blood was flowing through my lower lip. I was in shock, and I called Mike, crying. I knew that I needed medical attention, so when Mike came to pick me up, we left the dog at home and headed to St. Joseph’s hospital in Orange.

I felt so bad for Mike because others in the waiting room of the hospital kept giving him dirty looks. At one point, a man was staring at me and then looking at Mike. Then Mike waved his hand in front of the man to get him to stop staring. Many of the waiting patients thought I was victim of domestic violence. Little did they know that it was the sidewalk that kicked my butt, not Mike.

I called my best friend Helen and she rushed to my side. Helen started to take pictures of my injury, and then texted them to my kids. We got a good laugh from the pictures, and it did make me feel better that both Helen and Mike were there with me.

We waited four hours before I was seen by a physician. I suffered from a fractured wrist, and fractured nose, and I needed sutures to repair my lower lip. I don’t think like a normal person, so my first thought was that I would lose weight because of the sutures, however I did not.

I have fallen going down my stairs twice, once breaking my leg. I have fallen chasing after my grandkids, I have falling  while carrying my grandkids, I have fallen in the Holy Land twice, and I have fallen in my front yard three times. I have fallen, flipping over my therapeutic scooter with a broken leg. Sometimes I feel that the Devil pushes me because my falls happen after a holy experience. I often wonder where my guardian angel Celestina is, but I know that she is there preventing my death.

According to the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention:

• One in four Americans aged 65+ falls each year.
• Every 11 seconds, an older adult is treated in the emergency room for a fall; every 19 minutes, an older adult dies from a fall.
• Falls are the leading cause of fatal injury and the most common cause of nonfatal trauma-related hospital admissions among older adults.
• Falls result in more than 2.8 million injuries treated in emergency departments annually, including over 800,000 hospitalizations and more than 27,000 deaths.
• In 2014, the total cost of fall injuries was $31 billion.
• The financial toll for older adult falls is expected to increase as the population ages and may reach $67.7 billion by 2020.

The next time I fall on my face it will be done in prayer.

I was home for 10 hours after returning from Israel, before I had to board a flight to Nashville, Tennessee. My feet were still swollen, and my eyes had huge bags. Somehow Mike had made these travel arrangements without double-checking the dates.  I had never been to Tennessee, and so I was looking forward to exploring this part of our country, with our son Mikos and his family.

By the time I arrived in Nashville my family was two days ahead of me. They had walked miles visiting the Johnny Cash Museum, eating at Martin’s Bar-B-Que, and touring the Belmont Mansion. I was still acclimating to the time change, and all I wanted to do was sleep. What I did find interesting about Nashville was the restaurants, as they were not only cooking up some good grub, but the live music was the personality of this beautiful, clean city.

Graceland

The following day we visited the Country Western Museum, and from there we drove Graceland. On the way to Graceland we listened while Mikos read about the historical battles that took place. As we got closer we listened to Paul Simon’s “Graceland.” I am very glad that Mikos and Jenny engaged Maddie and Will in the tangible history lessons. Maddie and Will are the “Selfie Generation” (I coined that phrase). They were mostly on their devices, with the exception of the tours, and they have proven to be great travelers.

Elvis’s Graceland was opulent, and it displayed his personal touches. Throughout the tour Elvis’s soundtrack could be heard. He was a simple man with a big heart and a lot of toys, including his private airplane and jet.  No man will ever reach his fame or fill his blue suede shoes; there will always be just one Elvis, and  I will forever remain an Elvis fan. He had everything with the exception of peace, may God rest his soul.

National Civil Rights Museum

The museum was commemorating the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther Jr.’s  death while we were there. I was 15 years old when this great man was gunned down. I got this eerie sensation as we looked up to the Lorraine Hotel, and the room where Martin Luther King Jr. last stood. I remembered seeing it on the news. My respect for this powerful, godly man grew deeper as we walked through the maze of of the heartbreaking events that changed the course of our fellow man forever. I love Martin Luther King Jr., because he never took his eyes off the mission that God gave him.  His spirit was filled with love, and he knew that he was chosen by God to lead the way,as  he was the modern day Moses. Martin Luther King Jr. and Moses both led their people out of slavery. Though he witnessed hate at many levels, he never delivered a hate message. His words were articulate, and moving, and never putting another human being down. His speeches were inspired by the still small voice of God. If only politicians could follow this great man’s example, our country would be a much better place. The National Civil Rights Museum was a reminder and eye-opening place that every American should experience.

Memphis Food

Memphis food was ribs and more ribs, dry or with sauce; either way it is pleasing to the palate. My preference is still up in the air. The fried chicken was exceptional, having  golden brown crust with a hint of some secret flavor that did a Mexican hat dance in my mouth. There was no conversation during this meal because it left us speechless.

We did, however, encounter an interesting food experience. After a late lunch we decided to have a light dinner at Friday’s. Our waitress’s accent was so thick that we needed an interpreter. When it was time to take our order, she sat at the table next to us and pulled out her pad. She lethargically took our order. She was so far from where I was sitting that I almost had to yell out my order. The photo of the French Onion Soup looked enticing so I ordered it. Jenny ordered a house salad. When Jenny’s salad arrived it was just a plate of lettuce. Jenny’s eyes widened as she asked for the rest of the salad. The slothful waitress looked surprised that Jenny would question her service. The picture showed tomatoes, red onions, cheese and cucumbers. I carefully watched as the conversation went sour. I knew then that my soup would  suffer the same consequences. Sadly, this dreadful service was just the beginning. Our poor grandson Will ordered sliders, and when they arrived the waitress lifted up one of the buns with her bare fingers and announced that there was indeed cheese on the burger. Will’s mini burgers were cremated to the point that if left on just another minute they would have turned to ash. After witnessing his mother’s ordeal, Will kept quiet. By that time my soup (which looked nothing like the picture) was set before me. As I suspected, it was room temperature. Will’s meal was sent back and my soup was taken off the bill. I shared one of Maddie’s chicken nuggets.  With such bad service, all we did was laugh in disbelief. We never complained, I guess because it was after all entertaining.

Traveling with my family was a joy and getting closer to Maddie and Will was an added blessing. I love the diversity of our nation, and learning more about the history was an education for my soul.  We have come a long way and still we have not arrived.

Colossians 3:13-14 New International Version (NIV)

¹³ Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. ¹⁴ And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

I received a phone call one recent Sunday, asking me to participate in a focus group. In the conversation, which  was brief I disclosed my cell phone number and my email address. The caller also informed me that the topics to be discussed were hot political issues. I was told that an email or text would follow with more details. The focus group was going to pay for dinner at a trendy Irvine restaurant, and also pay participants $150.

My head got really big after this phone call, as I was thinking, maybe they are reading my Blog and found it so interesting that they wanted my opinion. It did not take long for my hairdresser Misty to burst my bubble when she said, “You should be careful, it sounds like a scam.” I wanted to share with others about how “special” I was in being selected, but now a dark cloud of doubt filled my deflated mind.

I checked for any information via email or text from this group, but received no communication. I called the restaurant, and they too confirmed that nothing was scheduled. I was a little disappointed because the money would have come in handy for the upcoming trip to Israel.

I was busy cleaning the house when the phone rang the day of the scheduled meeting.  It was the focus group people calling to confirm my participation. My response was, “You mean the scam!” The lady was nervously trying to convince me that it was not a scam, and then proceeded to contact her supervisor. He told me to call the restaurant again to clear things up. I did, and it was legit.

When I arrived, I was directed to the bar to join the other participants. Yeah, I was not going to do that, I stepped outside and started to pray the Rosary. I asked God to humble me, and for Jesus to be seen through me, I also witnessed to the parking attendant. I walked back in and met some of the people. The only thing that I could find in common with some of them was that we were part of the human race. Republicans, Democrats, all mixed together, with ages ranging from a ninety year-old man, to a petite twenty-year-old young lady.

The mediator mentioned that he had an MBA from some Ivy League college, and is earning his living by collecting information, and selling it. The gathering was impressive, with video cameras and microphones set up. For some reason part of the group, myself included, thought that it was going to be a discussion on Dreamers, President Trump’s Tweets, or the great political divide. What we talked about was more community issues, like the homeless encampment along the Santa Ana River bed. One gentleman, a retired sheriff, informed us that the homeless are now referred to as displaced people. Since I have been working with the “Displaced” people for years I did have some knowledge to offer. I gleaned some information from a recent radio commentary that a priest was giving. He talked about all state hospitals being forced to close due to government cutbacks. Persons with mental disorders are now in the streets, and I know first hand that a large population of displaced are chronic addicts. The 90 year-old man added that he was employed by this type of insitutuion,  and he explained that the mental patients had a home and that their medication was monitored and controlled. Others in the group thought that it would be a huge financial burden to go back to opening mental hospitals. The sad reality is that the prisons are now housing many mentally ill persons, the population has increased from 5% to 20% within the last 25 years. The rest of the mentally ill are displaced and roaming the streets According to 2016 statistics put out by Social Solution, there are 564,708 displaced people in the U.S. Of these, according to Fact Sheet: Homelessness in California, 115,738 are living in California. We need a better solution to help displaced people, or the problem will continue to grow.

Another topic was our prison system, and the lack of rehabilitation. All but one person agreed that rehabilitation is the only avenue for parolees.

We were allowed to give an opinion on the matters discussed, we all listened and I was presently surprised as to how respectful we all were of our differences. The mediator explained that this type of forum produces the best information because people are honest in person.

The man sitting to my left  asked how we were picked for the survey.  To add to my humility, we were randomly selected because we are registered voters, not because they read my Blog.

1 Peter 5:6  

Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you at the proper time,