Loss of a tree

I contributed to global warming a tiny bit more than usual recently. When we moved in to our home over 40 years ago there were two maple trees and an ash tree that provided shade in the summer, but now they were showing their age. The maples had reached a height where I could no longer stop the branches from rubbing against my siding and roof when they blew in the wind, much like a kitten rubs against your legs, when they want to be pet. This was causing damage that was unavoidable and unacceptable to me. The ash tree in my front yard was wrapping it’s hands around the wires heading to my house, the power lines and the phone line. 

I had considered having some tree work done since about 2010 when I started noticing an increased amount of branches of all sizes in our yard every time we had a wind storm.

Originally, I called a tree guy just to have the offending limbs trimmed and the ash removed before they caused any more problems. It was not an easy decision, at first. When he arrived he looked over my trees and we sat down on my porch.

In a tone reminiscent of a doctor telling you your test results, he asked if I wanted the good news or the bad news first. I opted to hear the good news first. He said that the ash tree in my front yard was healthy and showed no evidence of the emerald ash borer beetle that was devastating hundreds of millions of trees in North America. He said he wouldn’t remove it but could trim it so if it was uprooted in a storm or died it would simply fall away from my house without taking my wires with it. He said he could also trim back the maple that was becoming overly friendly with my house and my new addition. So far so good.

The bad news was the sugar maple that was shading the majority of my house had seen better days and was rotting from the inside out. He said he could trim that one also but it was only a matter of time before it died completely and came crashing down, possibly into my house. Well, I had anticipated cutting one tree down and trimming two others just not the ones he suggested. So we agreed on a price and he scheduled the carnage for a later date.

As the maple tree’s last days loomed ahead of us, my wife and I were asking ourselves whether this was the right decision. Who really knew just how long this tree would stand, offering us shade and the neighborhood birds a place to live. This tree and the shade that it provided, was one of the things that first attracted us to this place. But, over 40 years later, it was dying off.

Early the morning of the bloodshed, after reading the day’s news and having breakfast, I walked over to the maple’s trunk. I gazed up through its branches and leaves one last time. I watched as the shadows of the leaves formed ever changing patterns on the side of my house and I sighed. How could something that moved this much be dying. And I hugged it. I actually became a tree hugger. I thanked the tree for all its service, patted the trunk and, as a single tear streamed down my face, turned and headed back into my house.

The tree guy and his crew arrived shortly after that to take care of business. It was interesting to watch how they removed the limbs over my house without dropping then on my roof. It was like a midair ballet.

Later that day, I went out to check the chainsaw’s progress, which is probably a strange way to refer to the end of a life. There were a few hollow parts in the upper branches but a section of the trunk was emptier than my own heart. They loaded up the wood (I’m sure they have a firewood business also) and hauled it off.

I was impressed that, when the tree was down, they ground out the stump, they raked up all the chips and filled the hole with topsoil. The topsoil was probably a better grade of dirt than on the rest of my yard.

 I am now surprised just how much light comes in thru my dining room window. Even at night the street lights shine in so much that I don’t need night lights anymore.

A recent study published in the journal Science stated that the Earth has enough open space to be able to plant more than one trillion trees. They said this is enough to capture some 800 billion tons of carbon dioxide. I am sure the loss of my one tree won’t make much of a difference in global warming but it sure has made a difference to me.

Let me start off by saying my family is a loving and caring one, but even the holiest of angels has a bit of the devil in them. We can be quite devious when we want to be. My wife’s birthday is in June along with two granddaughters, daughter and my son. I won’t tell you how old she is because a gentleman never asks or tells but I am 71 and she is just a little younger than me.

My son asked us to join him at a favorite, local restaurant of ours with his wife and 8 year twin old sons to celebrate his birthday. Donna watches the boys after school so she was to bring them there rather than their home. He sent me an IM and several texts that this was all a ruse and the real reason for dinner was the give my wife a surprise party.

I take great pride in the fact that my wife, “Mrs. Sherlock Holmes” if you will, never figured out what was going on. We seldom can put one over on her but now that she is seventy (oops!) years old and with the turmoil (good) we have had at our house recently I don’t think she had the time to figure it out.

Even the twins were in on this one and you probably know how hard it is for an eight year old to keep a secret. It all started with the twins. At the time we had to leave for dinner, even though they had just gone to the bathroom 15 minutes earlier, they BOTH decided they had to go poop. They were told by their parents to stall leaving our house until 5:45. Of course I had to use the bathroom too and seeing as we only have 2, I was outside the bathroom door waiting my turn.

Donna was pulling her hair out. She didn’t want to be late. There was no way we were going to be on our way at 5:30 like she wanted and she didn’t want to make our son and daughter in law wait. She had lost control.

The one twin kept yelling thru the door, asking Donna what time it was because he was told to stall until 5:45. Donna wondered why he asked her to let him know when it was 5:45 and thought she was dealing with Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory.  Why did he have to remain in the bathroom till 5:45?  The other grandson developed this sudden problem with tying his shoes. Even though I was instructed to stall her I didn’t know at this point what they were doing.

When we finally hit the road the boys were in the back seat. Donna likes to be able to see out of her rear view mirror and when the boys are waving their arms in the air she will actually pull over until they stop. As soon as a song they knew came on the radio, they started dancing in their seats, waving their arms, and Donna pulled to the curb. That’s when I realized just what was going on because up until then I didn’t know they were in on the plot.

Once we got going again I flipped down my visor and watched them in the mirror. They were whispering and then suddenly we would hear “Donna, Ian pushed me.” It was at that point I joined into the subterfuge. I would start yelling at the boys full well knowing that this was pushing Donna’s buttons. At that point she would pull over again and start yelling at them. They never act like this.

They calmed down and Donna started driving again. Once more time the boys started acting up and I began yelling. Donna pulled to the curb again and yelled at them one more time. All the time, Ian had a silly smirk on his face and I yelled for him to wipe that smile off his face. He took his arm and wiped it across his mouth but that didn’t last long.

The whole time they were giggling and that only added fuel to the fire. They are having a sleep over Saturday and she yelled their behavior caused them to lose their television privileges. This made them laugh even more. Donna said that’s it and she was going to drive to the front of the restaurant, throw them out and drive home.

When we got there, I put on my best “It’s hard to get out of her van.” act. You see I had broken my leg the month before and was still in a boot. This was quite believable if I say so myself. When we entered the restaurant and Donna told the hostess “Reservations for Rug.” The Hostess smirked a bit and took us to a screened off area and when Donna rounded the corner my family members yelled “Surprise!”  Donna stopped dead in her tracks and was speechless.

We’ve only been able to trick her once before, at a Bison’s game, but that story will have to wait for another time because I am out of space.

Norb is an independent journalist who lives in Lockport as do his children and grandchildren. He blogs at WhyWHY.home.blog

Donna and I watch our grandchildren and a few other children. As we counted them up, we have watched over 20 children not counting our own children. I think that babysitting your grand-kids improves and extends your life and studies have confirmed that.

If you discovered the secret to a longer and more meaningful life I am sure we would all do it.  Apparently, watching children is that secret. People frequently say that being around children will make you feel younger and reports can actually measure and identify the benefits from caring for children. If the experts are all saying that “care giving” gives older people a purpose in life and helps keeps them active, then maybe even small doses of babysitting may extend your life

 “Care giving may give caregivers a purpose of life because caregivers may feel useful for the others and for the society,” said Bruno Arpino, who was the associate professor at the Pompeu Fabra University in Barcelona, Spain, in 2016, according to Reuters Health.

Researchers have actually found that grandparents who watch their grandchildren have a tendency to live longer than seniors who don’t. Researchers with Berlin Aging Study conducted investigations over almost 20 years on the effect of care giving on mortality. The study was published in the journal Evolution and Human Behavior in 2016.

The Berlin study showed that after factoring in grandparents’ age and state of health, the risk of dying over a 20-year period was one-third less for seniors who took care of children as compared to those who didn’t. More than 500 seniors were interviewed and had medical tests at their homes, doctors’ offices, and hospitals, and these tests were repeated every other year between 1990 and 2009.

Participants were asked how often they cared for children of during the last year. This was defined as looking after or doing something with a child without the parents being there. Then this was scored from 1 (never) to 7 (every day). The sample did not include any primary caregivers who had full custody of the children, though it did include those who watched non-family members.

We are watching both grandchildren and children of friends that I affectionately call the strays or OPCs (Other People’s Children). The oldest OPC, Andrew, will be 22 in August and lives in Arlington Texas. Donna started watching him after the company Donna was working for closed. We are looking forward to seeing Joedin this summer another of our OPCs. She and her family moved to North Carolina seeking employment. She comes up during the summer to spend time with us. We think of them both often. They feel just like kin to us.

This study concluded that spending time with your grandchildren and helping friends and family members with their children most likely gives people a feeling of purposefulness and assists them to keep mentally and physically active running after a child. Anyone who has looked after a preschooler can attest to having to be physically active.

We are in our 70’s and are still looking after grandchildren and OPCs. Every time a child leaves our care due to entering school, moving or a change in their family situation, we discuss taking on another child. We both agree that we don’t need the money or that it’s tiring for us to do but then someone asks “Are you still watching children?” We always answer yes and take on another child.

As per Reuters Health, half of the grandparents who took care of their grandchildren were still alive 10 years from their first interview. Whereas, those who didn’t provide help lived for only about five years. It is extremely important however for every person to decide, just what “moderate amounts of help” means. As long as you do not feel frazzled about the help you provide you might just be doing something good for others and for yourself.

Researchers have found that grandparent babysitters had a 37% lower mortality risk than adults of the same age that do not provide care. Research has also indicated that people involved in providing care to children had a reduced risk of dying during the study follow up than people that didn’t watch children. But the study can't prove cause and effect can only suggest this correlation.

Additional research would be required to find out the cause of the longer life expectancy of caregivers, however researchers present a few explanations. But I really don’t need some expensive research from some razzle dazzle organization to tell me just how good watching children makes me feel, how it lets me connect with my youth again.

So if you are a senior, go find some relatives or neighbors who need your help or support part-time. It might be a challenge but there are all sorts of ways you can help others. Watching kids so mom and dad can work or have a night out, picking kids up after school or providing a “bridge” between the time the kids get out of school and the time their parents get home. We have done all three.

I am an independent journalist from Lockport. He writes for several local publications, has been quoted internationally and blogs at WhyWNY.home.blog

A few good people

I am a septuagenarian (look it up), as such I am not quite as active as I once was. No more roofing, no more biking and no more volleyball. I now have to pay people to do things that I used to get paid to do. I need people to do carpentry, painting and plumbing.

My home and I were at odds with each other. Health concerns like COPD, edema which is the build-up of fluid that causes my feet and legs to become swollen, peripheral neuropathy in my feet caused by the chemo I had for cancer and arthritis were making it difficult for me to live in my family home of over 40 years where the only bathroom and my bedroom was up a flight of 16 stairs from the main living area. It was a scary trip.

We considered moving to a ranch style house or at least a home with a bathroom and bedroom on the first floor. None of us including my wife and I were very happy with this option. Our grandchildren were almost in tears when we told them we might have to move. They told us they loved our house and wanted us to stay there. Our home has been a safe harbor for many people that now range from 8 to 50 years of age. If we bought a new place we would have to have our belongings packed up and moved to the new place. The one thing a moving company can’t pack up is the over 40 years of memories from sleepovers where the living room floor looked like an emergency shelter to teaching my grandson how to play Canasta in my Man Cave.

We decided to put a small addition off the back of our house to make it more livable, a bedroom, a walk in closet and a small bathroom. That way our house will serve our needs for as long as necessary. A project of this magnitude will require quite a bit of capital but not as much as buying a new home and moving.

We worked on the ground work for putting an addition on our home for a few months. It wasn’t as easy or as cheap as we thought it would be. I’ve been as stressed as a cat that wandered into a tennis racket factory. We lined up a surveyor and had our lot surveyed. We then found an architect to draw a plot plan to present to the city to get a variance. For what these people charged, I think I went into the wrong profession.

I called several builders and most of them never bothered to show. Three contractors did show up though. The first one wanted to give us vaulted ceilings and a few other modern amenities at a price that was in the stratosphere. First off we wanted something that went with the architecture of our house that was built in 1919 and vaulted ceilings just wouldn’t make it. We have high ceilings sure, but none of them are vaulted.

I had a funny feeling about the second contractor when I met him. He was considerably cheaper. I worked 40 years running my own handyman/contracting company couldn’t see how he could do a quality job at the price he quoted.

The third contractor that came over was Michael Harrington (208-6995). He came from out of town and wasn’t even licensed to work in Lockport at that time. I felt at ease with him from the start. The bid he gave us was in the middle. It was higher than I had anticipated but most projects of this type always cost more and take longer that you think. Michael got a city license and has been back a few times for additional projects.

I also have a few friends that put my window air conditioners in the spring and take them out in the fall. There is no way I could lift these much less put them in the window without falling down.

When I was younger, I used to snow blow all the way around the block. I figured I was dressed and out in the cold anyway, why not help people out? In the winter my wife does most of the snow shoveling now but I worry about her doing it and try to watch her thru the window.

Snow shoveling is a known trigger for heart attacks. Emergency rooms in the Snow Belt gear up for extra cases when enough of the white stuff has fallen to force folks out of their homes armed with shovels or snow blowers according to Health.Harvard.edu. Occasionally though neighbors help out by doing our snow. I am thankful for this. I am also thankful for the people that cut our lawn for us. One less job for my wife.

Fortunately I have managed to find a few good people I can rely on. After all the people I have helped in my lifetime it is nice to see good karma come back to me.

Norb is a freelance journalist from Lockport. His blog is WhyWNY.home.blog

Hugs, they’re not for everyone

Hugs, They're not for everyone

There’s currently a Puritanical idea that has pervaded our culture in which touch and sex are inherently linked and it is doing us a great disservice. I think that people are afraid to touch each other no matter how platonic.

I will admit it, I’m a tactile person. I give and receive hugs every day. Touch is one of the ways I communicate. I’m also a shoulder patter, and a hand holder. Hugs are free and there is no purchase required.

We Americans are often “touch starved” because the casual, nonsexual contact that happens between friends in other cultures just doesn’t happen here. I think we were never meant to hold each other at arm’s length.

According to Readers Digest, hugs are more than just a friendly greeting, they’re a surprisingly powerful health booster you’ll want to take greater advantage of every single day. From the time we’re born our family’s touch shows us that we’re loved and special. The connections of self-worth and tactile sensations we received in our early years are still implanted in our mind as adults. Hugs affect our ability to love ourselves.

Hugs are much more than a friendly greeting. Holding a hug for an extended time is said to lift one’s serotonin levels, elevating mood and creating happiness. Hugs supposedly strengthen the immune system. Hugging is reported to boost self-esteem.

Touch is incredibly important for us as human beings. Studies have shown that hugs can reduce blood pressure and release oxytocin. Oxytocin is a hormone that has been associated with empathy, trust, and relationship-building among other things.

A good hug relaxes muscles and releases tension. Hugs can help ease pain and soothe aches by increasing circulation into the soft tissues.  Hugs teach the importance of giving and receiving. There is an equal value in receiving a hug as there is to giving one. Hugs show us how love goes both ways. As a loving person, I get an abundance of hugs from my family. I find that hugs are like a miracle drug.

A Swedish study of 172 nursing home residents found that those who received hugs and physical touch, connected more with family, friends and visitors, were more socially active and had a tendency to thrive better than the residents who didn’t receive the physical contact.

When you are in a relationship, it is too easy to take the other person for granted. A benefit of hugging that is frequently overlooked is that a hug can reaffirm your love. I think it’s valuable to know that something as simple as time spent touching or hugging has been shown to have measurable benefits.

I had a doctor who was very professional but unemotional. He was an excellent doctor that in my mind saved my life on more than one occasion. The first time he proclaimed that I was “In remission” I jumped up and gave him a big hug, I was so elated. It was like hugging a tree.

In his culture, men did not hug. Over the course of several years and 2 remissions, I hugged him many times. Our relationship warmed so much that the last time I saw him, he initiated the hug. He also had a student with him on this particular day. He said to the student that he might as well hug me because I was going to hug him too.

A few years ago, I had a person report me to HR that I had hugged her. She was telling me about her horrible battle with cancer when I said “sounds like you need a hug”. I did not approach her or grab her, just stood and opened my arms. She then stepped forward to get her hug. She didn’t protest at the time or say “No thanks.” but seeing as I was in a position of superiority over her she didn’t think she could refuse.

She taught me to always ask if people are comfortable with a hug or possibly even a warm handshake before assuming that they were. It was a boundary I needed to understand and something I needed to learn.

I now recognize that for lots of people, touch can be not only be something unfamiliar but has the ability to transmit aggression or dehumanizing and scary messages.  I mean nothing more by it when I offer you a hug other than make an effort to connect with you or to offer comfort to you, not to invade your space or make you feel uncomfortable.

So while I will continue to offer hugs to people who seem to welcome them. I will never foist them upon anyone. I will say though that if I see you crying, eating cold pizza and you explain your troubles to me and ask for advice, offering a hug to you seems as reasonable to me as offering you a tissue.

Hugging might also be a wonderful way to resolve a disagreement. I think that giving each other the touch they need may have the ability to reverse the damages.

To me, there doesn’t seem to be a downside to consensual hugging, I just have to ask first.

Norb is a loving husband, father and grandfather who doles out hugs in Lockport. He blogs at WhyWNY.home.blog

https://buffalochronicle.com/2019/05/11/hugs-theyre-not-for-everyone/

                                            Jury Duty

It’s a small piece of paper, usually the size of a postcard and it is easily hidden between the junk mail and the bills that crowd a mailbox, but it manages to create fear in many of its recipients. It is the jury duty summons. Jury duty is regarded as vital to the administration of justice and, as such, is considered a condition of U.S. citizenship.

Some people start trying to think up things to say that will guarantee they will get rejected as soon as they receive this notice. “The police never arrest innocent people”, “I’ve never met a government official that I trust!” and “I have no problem with (insert racial slur here). Others are reconciled to the fact that jury duty is just part of life for most U.S. citizens, age 18 or over. But serving on a jury is something that you should take graciously. I served on a jury once and I felt honored to serve.

There are a number of reasons why people hate jury duty. It can be a pain to get to the courthouse, find parking, go through the metal detectors, then wait, wondering when or even if you’re going to be called. I had never been on a jury so I had no idea what to expect and after the judge dismissed those with hardships, the rest of us were told to return the next day.

The day of the jury selection I showed up and was shown a seat in the court room. When my name was called, I went up and was questioned by both the prosecution and the defense lawyers. I was selected to serve and was assigned the job of jury foreman.

When we went back is when the real fun began. The judge told us not to feel bad if we weren’t selected. He explained that some people are just a better fit for certain cases. By this point, I was still just sitting there, in the audience area, questioning whether I would have a chance to serve.

We were chosen at random to go and answer several questions about our work, families, drinking habits and any brushes with the law. We were told this case involved driving under the influence. People were told had to answer truthfully and asked if they felt that they could treat the defendant fairly.

Right about then I was called. Some of the more outrageous people had been dismissed and it was my turn. I made it as the last member of the panel, and after two alternates were chosen. We went home and the following day we listened to the jury instructions and jumped into the trial.

The case we heard, a person said they had spent 5 hours in a bar and had “Two beers”. Upon leaving the bar, he then drove to Transit road, made a right turn and proceeded to swerve down the wrong lane of Transit for better than a quarter mile attempting to get his car under control before hitting another driver.

Just prior to the start of the trial, a lady came into the courtroom. She was on crutches because she had a broken leg. She took the witness stand and told the story of how she was headed north on Transit and saw him coming She said she moved as far right as she could and stopped her car to try and avoid an accident. Unfortunately, the suspect hit her head on while she was stoped there. She had to be extracted from her car by the Fire Department and the EMTs.

We heard testimony from the Lockport Police officer who was the first to arrive on the scene The police officer testified he used the standard field sobriety tests and determined the defendant was drunk.

It was hard not to discuss the case with my fellow jurors before deliberations. At night, when I went home, I thought about the trial, the defendant’s testimony, and the defense lawyer’s explanations for things. It was hard, especially since I couldn’t talk to anyone.

Once we started deliberations, it felt weird to suddenly to be allowed to discuss the case. To my relief there were no arguments and while presenting our thoughts, everyone stayed respectful.

We carefully looked over the evidence in the jury room and even asked the court reporter to come in so she could read back the testimony. We had one hold out but we managed to change her mind. I was proud and honestly amazed that this group of 12 strangers coming from completely diverse backgrounds would come up with a consensus.

We filed into the courtroom one last time and the defendant, his lawyer and the prosecutor stood up as we walked in. I read the verdict and the judge thanked us for our service and then we were done.

When you sit on a jury, you have someone else’s fate in your hands. That’s a mindboggling obligation and one I think gets forgotten by people trying to get out of serving. I thought about this the entire time. This duty shouldn’t be taken lightly and it shouldn’t be something to try and get out of

Being on a jury is an absolutely rewarding experience. When it was over, I felt like I had made a difference and that I was a part of something bigger.

Norb is a freelance journalist from Lockport. He also blogs at WhyWNY.home.blog

East Niagara Post: LOVIN' SPOONFUL: A Tale of Two Sammies

East Niagara Post: LOVIN' SPOONFUL: A Tale of Two Sammies: We had occasion to go to two fast food restaurants for breakfast on a recent weekend. Breakfast one: Tim Horton’s: 5816 Transit Rd, Lo...