Columbia Gorge News
www.columbiagorgenews.com
Wednesday, November 24, 2021
B5
SENIOR LIVING
Navigating past hurts and slights during the holiday
Senior
Living
Scott
McKay
W
ELL, IT’S THE
beginning of the
holiday season —
when we enjoy the company
of family and also gain seven
pounds by the start of the
New Year! But while visiting
with parents, children,
grandchildren, or all three,
it can be difficult navigating
around and through past
hurts and slights that are
brought to family gatherings
along with gifts and holiday
treats.
But I found this advice
that might help avoid
the traps and difficulties
often encountered at family
gatherings. It is from the
website Next Avenue (www.
nextavenue.org), a service
of several PBS stations that
offers advice for older adults.
First, bury the hatchet
(and although tempting
— not in someone’s back!).
You may not forget past
wrongs but try to maintain a
spirit of forgiveness.
Second, keep your mouth
shut! Well, not exactly. But
hold your tongue — even
when they have it all wrong!
Follow the advice of Rumi,
a 13th century Persian
poet and philosopher, who
suggested before you speak,
let your words pass through
three gates. “At the first gate,
ask yourself, ‘Is it true?’ At
the second ask, ‘Is it neces-
sary?’ At the third gate ask,
‘Is it kind?’”
Third, simplify and re-
duce stress. Don’t be totally
worn out when guests arrive.
Determine ahead of time
what is essential and what is
not. And skip what is not.
Fourth, sneak in a
few breaks to relax be-
fore, during and after the
gathering.
Fifth, reinvent your tra-
ditions. Find a new location
for the gathering. Or go as a
family to help volunteer for
a community event. Think
outside the turkey roll.
Sixth, rethink your
gift-giving. Give “experi-
ence” gifts: Tickets to the
theater or a gift card to a
restaurant they would not
normally visit. Or donate on
behalf of your loved one to a
non-profit. (Great idea. But
I’m not sure that will go well
with the grandkids!)
Families are our support
system in times of trouble
and our connections to the
past and future. And when
families are so scattered and
often disconnected, the time
together is a special time to
be enjoyed and savored.
•••
A while back I challenged
you to decipher several
humorous quotes where I
removed most of the vowels
— a tough assignment. This
time it will make it a little
easier. Here are a couple
more quotes from two
famous comedians — this
time spelled backwards.
Good luck.
“.secalp esoht ot gniog tiuq
ot em dlot eH .secalp owt
ni gel ym ekorb I rotcod eht
dlot I”
— Henny Youngman
“!srorriM ?elbmuh em
speek tahw wonk uoY”
— Phyllis Diller
•••
The hair care product that
used the catchphras “a little
dab’ll do ya” was Brylcreem.
(You may also remember
Edd Byrnes played Kookie
on the 1958-1964 TV series
77 Sunset Strip and recorded
“Kookie, Kookie Lend Me
Your Comb” with Connie
Stevens.) I received cor-
rect answers from Steven
Woolpert, Susan Ellis, Sam
Bilyeu, Jess Birge, Rhonda
Spies, Gene Uczen, Dave
Lutgens, Doug Nelson, Rose
Shultz, Pat Evenson-Brady,
Linda Frizzell, Keith Clymer,
and Lana Tepfer, who I
missed last week but this
week is the winner of a quilt
raffle ticket. And I missed
Rus Hargrave from several
weeks back.
•••
Tis the season to be
grateful and one particular
song expressing that feeling
is “It’s a Wonderful World.”
The song was recorded and
released in 1967 but sold
poorly in the U.S., although
it was number one on the
British pop charts. But in
1987 it was featured in Good
Morning, Vietnam starring
Robin Williams and became
a major hit. For this week’s
“Remember When” ques-
tion, what singer and jazz
musician first recorded the
song? E-mail your answer
to mcseniorcenter@gmail.
com, call 541-296-4788, or
mail it with a copy of “Hello,
Dolly,” his most successful
recording.
•••
Well, it has been anoth-
er week waiting for the
curveball to zip around the
corner. Until we meet again,
from Oprah Winfrey, the
entertainment mogul, “Be
thankful for what you have;
you’ll end up having more. If
you concentrate on what you
don’t have, you will never,
ever have enough.”
•••
“My cooking is so bad my
kids thought Thanksgiving
was to commemorate Pearl
Harbor.”
— Phyllis Diller
•••
Nutritious home-deliv-
ered meals and pick-ups are
available for anyone over 60.
For more information, you
can call the meal site in your
area.
Seniors of Mosier Valley
— In-person dining now
at noon Mondays and
Wednesdays. On Nov. 24,
live music at 11 a.m. and
Thanksgiving dinner at
noon. For more informa-
tion call 541-980-1157;
Hood River Valley Adult
Center at 541-386-2060 —
open for in-person dining;
Sherman County Senior
and Community Center
at 541-565-3191 — open
for in-person dining; The
Dalles Meals-on-Wheels
at 541-298-8333 — open
for in-person dining
Tuesday through Thursday;
Klickitat County Senior
Services — Goldendale
office at 509-773-3757 or
the White Salmon office at
509-493-3068; Skamania
County Senior Services at
509-427-3990.
The City Council: A fictional narrative of rural life in the American West
Episode 175: Life Saver
■ By Jim Tindall
George Ansbach had been
leisurely driving down Mt.
Rushing Highway through
the Plateau, nestled in a
rare, relaxed frame of mind,
still reeling from Angeline’s
sudden death. He listened
to a John Klemmer CD, a
soothing tenor sax melody.
As he approached Uptown,
he passed a red Firebird
parked haphazardly on the
side of Ginkgo Avenue.
In the driver’s seat, head
back, mouth open, slouched
Butch Simtreen, a former
drug friend of his daughter
Becky. The car was running.
Guns and Roses played
loudly. On appearances,
Butch was napping. It just
didn’t look right. George
pulled over, jumped out, and
jogged back. Butch was un-
responsive. Upon checking
the red haired, pockmarked
face, he found hints of
breath and pulse. A 3-inch
square of foil sat between
Butch’s thighs.
Becky’s dangerous addic-
tions had led to the emer-
gency room many times. Her
near-death experiences were
soul-breaking memories,
consequently George took
drug abuse awareness with
a keen, special interest. As
a Vietnam vet, he had had
too many friends who had
veered and crashed into that
swamp. While Becky was
now a vital part of the farm
and was providing care for
her grieving dad with his
many bouts of PSTD, she
had once been a walking
wreck.
George grabbed his cell
phone and called 911.
He gave his location, the
specifics of the emergency,
the person involved. He ran
to his truck and reached
in the glove compartment,
grabbed a small kit bag
and returned to the scene,
checking back in with the
dispatcher.
The dispatcher com-
manded George to remove
Butch from the vehicle and
put him flat on the ground,
and to extend his head back.
George took a different step.
“The subject is a drug user.
This is clearly a drug over-
dose. I am administering
Narcan now into his nasal
passage.”
“Somewhere close a
flicker works a metal roof,
nak, nak, nak. Camouflaged
guerilla bird, not like a
woodpecker, decked out
like a British officer in the
Revolution. Nak, nak, nak.
The jungle, the snakes, the
dank so far from the warm
quilt, from the wood stove.
Nak, nak, nak, face in the
muck, trees shredding
above, shrieks to my left,
cries to my right, moaning
within. Search for the carot-
id, that pulse, that fleeting
bird, the guns, the end of it
all, the end of it all, the peace
that comes only in stupor
of exhaustion, marching,
marching, trudging, the
snakes, the spiders, the
bullets in ambush sound like
any flying pest, but does this
one, that one whisper my
name? Drag him, drag the
private behind the tree. Give
him his moment of aware-
ness out of fire, his grasp
of the inevitable end, then
the welcome shaking of the
hand of God, the introduc-
tions, the passing. Nak, nak,
nak. Every noise a wakeup
call, all bloody death-defying
taunts, the sobbing, shaking.
I can’t shake it. I’ll never
shake it. You lose a friend;
you lose a wife. Why hang
on by a thread when you can
just let go and float down
into the recliner and lean
back? Why nak, nak, nak
fight? Why? Why do their
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bullets and our helicopters
begin to sound the same,
some strange drum duet,
some long Dead jam that
goes and goes and. Brush
back the hair out of his eyes,
although he is seeing now
with other eyes, struggling to
wonder where is where. Nak,
nak, nak. I’m sleepy. My
eyes lids are so heavy. What I
would give for a chair in the
emergency room, waiting
for survival, not surviving
death. I am here. I am alive.
And I listen and He says to
us, Butch, I will not leave you
until I have done everything
that I have promised you.”
Many seconds pass before
Butch jolts. George hears the
sirens approaching.
Butch jolts again, eyes
now wide open. George
places his hand on Butch’s
shoulder. “Sit still, fella. Sit
still. You’re OK.”
The sirens grew in volume;
a Warhaven Police squad
car brakes to a stop, closely
followed by a Warhaven Fire
Department ambulance.
Illustration by Peggy Ohlson
About ‘The City Council’
The City Council is a work
of fiction that sprang from
observing contentious poli-
ticians. This narrative serial
was initially conceived as a
radio project back in 2006.
That year it began to be pub-
lished in print in the White
Salmon Enterprise. It now
appears every two weeks in
the Columbia Gorge News.
This creative writing is set
in the imaginary western
town of Warhaven, which
lies at the confluence of the
Rushing and Big rivers. The
town was settled in 1867
by veterans of the Battle
of Gettysburg, who sought
to leave the carnage and
duplicity of the East for a
more harmonious society
in the West. In Warhaven,
city government works
efficiently with altruism
for the commonweal of the
community, which is the
work’s overriding theme.
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