UPDATE April 4, 2019

Today is four months post-surgery.  Within the last few days, Mick Jagger announced he’d be having valve replacement as I had.  He thinks he’ll be hopping around by summer.  I wish him well.  It takes time.

Each day I feel more “normal” but there’s still much room for improvement.  The first day of Spring, March 21, I did my first full-length walk on the route I usually take in the winter.  I completed the route in a little longer than “normal” for me, and a little bit more tired.  But it worked.  I’ve done the route three times – it’s still a bit chilly – and all other days have been indoors at Lifetime Fitness, doing about 45 minutes total on the stationary bike and treadmill.

At Church last Sunday I was enlisted to help out with ushering, and it went well.

Not 100% , but not 50% either – somewhere in between.

March 19 the Minneapolis Star Tribune had an article about the TAVR heart valve which initially was the one I was to receive.  TAVR Strib Mar 2019001 The article speaks for itself.  In the end, it was determined to replace my valve with a portion of a bovine valve – a standard procedure.  Whatever the case, there is a new valve which apparently is functioning better than the previous.

Nothing is without risk.  As the article points out, things can happen, (as they can happen to anyone, any time).  But all goes pretty well, and I have no regrets.  Next report, Lord willing, will be in a month, on my 79th birthday.

 (earlier posts continued at March 12 at the conclusion of Jan. 1 post, below.) 

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Jan. 1, 2019: Happy New Year!

This morning I filed a reply to a Facebook post about Grandson Bennie from Robin and David:  “I am most grateful with Bennie’s visits at the time I was hospitalized and here at home in recovery. Thank you all so very much. 2018 had a long and uncertain ending; 2019 begins at least with promise. There is the famous song lyric of John Lennon “life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans” (Beautiful Boy). Apparently the specific quote traces back to Allen Saunders in a 1957 Readers Digest article. No difference, it is so right on. The three of you are models for me as 2019 begins. Let’s have a great year!”

Bennie’s accident and my heart diagnosis effectively happened on the exact same day, May 25, 2018, perhaps an hour apart.  For me, my primary physician noted something about my heart at my annual physical.  I have doctored at the same clinic since 1991, and I’m forever grateful to the annual physical which were, until this year, basically routine.

These days there are so many ways to communicate.  Cathy has done a great job with Caring Bridge (Bennie’s Caring Bridge is here). As the resident caregiver, Cathy is the one who makes sure I take the proper meds and she keeps the personal ship more or less on course.

I finally decided to use this blog as my personal platform, (most recent post Dec. 28.)  Facebook is another platform, which I infrequently use; good old-fashioned e-mail is one of my most common means of connecting person to person, dick_bernard@msn.com.  So it goes in these wired times.

Succinctly, I’m doing better.  As I commented to my sister, Sunday I successfully walked more than a city block each way to/from Church, the Basilica of St. Mary.  No walker, no cane, under my own power, no balance issues.  Of course this is no foot race.  On the other hand, my ticker worked just fine.  The small stroke seems hardly an impediment (though I still have to watch for typos ib tge [on the] keyboard.  (I’ve left two genuine typos for illustration.  It is vexing.)

Today we’ll go to a movie – Mary Queen of Scots.  It looks interesting.  At this New Years Day, 2019, normal seems to be slowly returning.

Yesterday was a visit to my primary care physician; a scheduled followup to the heart surgery.  Cathy came along – good to have other eyes and ears to deal with nuances of medications, some of which are new.  I was impressed with the thoroughness of the post op assessment.  You have to work to escape notice as the notes of each attending person at every level are on line and visible to the attending staff.  No ‘dog ate it” dodges!

Friday is the first appointment for the requisite therapies – PT and the like.  There is a cost to vacation.   This month seems to be a time of work; I’ll be somewhere in the near neighborhood, so no need for long drives.

More reporting as the month goes on.  I appreciate everyone, most especially Cathy for keeping me on track.

Happy New Year.

PS:  I have been irregular on blog posts, and, of course,  my personal circumstances have changed.  I do plan to continue publishing, and get back in to the regular routine.  Just check in once in awhile if you’re interested.  The calendar at right will reveal whether/which dates cover a published post.

March 12 and following, continued.

March 12, 2019: My post-operative appointment with the Cardiologist was yesterday.  She was the physician who started me on the march to surgery last October.  I admit to being nervous beforehand.  I didn’t know what would be said.  There had been echocardiogram, blood test and x-ray before the appointment. The report was very positive (I had to ask for a second opinion, and Cathy concurs – she was there).  Succinctly, the doctors Instructions:  “1.  No changes to medications..2.  No problem with traveling.  3.  I will plan on seeing you back in my office in six months.”  The surgeon who did the surgery on Dec. 4 stopped in unexpectedly.  No, not because I’m a prize-winning “specimen”; rather to take a look at a minor post-op issue.  The cardiologist said a reasonable expectation was to give the recovery process a year.  I’ve heard that from others who’ve “been there, done that”.  Now, basically, it’s up to me.  Mental and physical activity are encouraged.  I think I know what I need to do, and the coming spring (some day fairly soon, I hope, will get me outside again.)  Recovery is a team process.  I’ll try to do my part!

Thanks for reading.  Check in once a month or so.

March 4, 2019:  Three months ago today was the open heart surgery that still manages my life, and probably will continue to manage in the longer term.

Coincidentally, in today’s mail came two items laying out billings related to the surgery and after care.  Thank goodness for Medicare and Blue Cross/Blue Shield supplement that we are fortunate to have.  I haven’t tallied up the total at this point.  Most likely out of pocket will be minimal, particularly compared with the “retail” bill.

I last reported on Feb. 4, one month ago.  The recovery process continues.  A week or so ago I gave an informal assessment to a friend: I’m probably at about 50% pre-surgery now.  Actually, this is an it depends number.  Today I was at the gym, and for the last few times have essentially performed at pre-surgery levels on the tread mill.  But I know I’m not anywhere near 100% yet.  My norm used to be an hour a day walking outside.  With our record-setting winter, such has been impossible to even imagine.

Feb. 25 I had a couple of appointments at Fairview Southdale Hospital, and asked Cathy to show me the “the scene of the crime” – the ICU and Hospital Rooms where I had spent the first three or four days after surgery on third floor.  Just imagine a hospital room where your environment is a bed, and your horizon is mostly the ceiling and the wall in front of you, by yourself….  For a short time I had a roommate, but he was in about as bad shape as I.  I’m normally not much at casual talk, so being quiet was not unusual.  But it was good to at least see the places I resided.  I likely won’t forget the different world one lives in coming out of anesthesia.   Burned in my mind’s eye is the outside world which I saw once in awhile from the hospital bed.  It was nothing more than another part of the hospital building, maybe a couple hundred feet away, but it was the real world!

February was Cardiac Rehab month at Woodwinds Hospital, which is only about three miles from here.  There were 18 or so one-hour sessions, each supervised by a physical rehab therapist.  Maximum patients were five, each with one therapist.  The basic equipment was treadmill and other similar equipment, and weights.  The objectives seemed to be two: supervised activity so we got a notion of what we could do; medical management with heart and blood pressure, etc., monitoring to make sure the ticker was working.  I gave them highest compliments.  Before the therapy, I had no idea what it was about.  Now I do.  I recommended it to a friend this morning.

Before Woodwind Rehab was rehab in a satellite clinic building and, of course, the initial rehab at Fairview Acute Rehab center.  Each place was staffed by remarkable people, who deal with broken folks like myself – relearning, sometimes, the bare basics of living, starting over…..

I have been getting into more of a ‘normal’ routine.  Only recently have I started to re-claim my place at Caribou Coffee – a place I’ve been at almost every morning for near 19 years.  I was there this morning from about 6:30 – 8:30, which was my ‘standard’.  I am a creature of habit.  But I had almost never been back there till the last week or so.

As mentioned above, I’ll likely be at Lifetime Fitness, where we have a membership, but had seldom used for a long while – I liked to walk outside.  I will do the outdoors, but also indoors.  There is also an indoor walking opportunity a few miles away at the Bielenberg Sports Center – three soccer fields under one roof.

I’m not pretending all is taken care of.  Tomorrow morning is a sleep study consult.  I don’t think I’m a candidate for C-PAP, but I’ll wait for the consult (not a sleep study tomorrow, just a prescribed consult).  The Sleep Study Center is across the parking lot from the coffee shop, so close by.  Cathy will be along.

For a week, one to go, I’m wearing what’s called a Zio-Patch.  It records every heart beat.  It’s ZIO XT if you want to look it up.    I think they are mostly monitoring to make sure AFIB or the like is controlled.  (I’ve never had AFIB, but it was a post-operative complication for a short time.  I’ve observed nothing unusual.  It will be interesting to see what it shows.

I’m getting more into normal routine, though I think I’ll slowly become somewhat less engaged in my assorted passions, like Citizens for Global Solutions, French-American heritage and the like.  I’m closing in on 79, so if I have a few more years left, I want to do other kinds of things as well as the tried and true.  I know myself too well, however, to predict that I’ll be a couch potato.

One closing note, hopefully with a good outcome:  on February 4, the exact date I did the last update, our friend J. Drake Hamilton was discovered unconscious near her home in St. Paul.  She had slipped on ice, apparently, and had a very severe head injury.  As I write, she is slowing rejoining the world.  She’s a brilliant climate science person, and has been involved at highest levels, but to my knowledge, she has not yet said her first word since the accident.  Visit her Caring Bridge site at least once.  She is walking the same kind of walk Grandson Bennie took, and is still taking.  [PS, March 5: I just read Pat’s update on J, and it seems like yesterday was a remarkable day among every remarkable day in recovery.  Having experienced Physical and Occupational Therapists at several locations the last three months, I can say from experience, they  are absolutely remarkable people, doing their own kind of magic!]

Count your Blessings.  And thanks to everyone for your support and interest.

Consider donating to Caring Bridge.  It is a remarkable service.  I wasn’t much aware of it till Bennie’s injury became noteworthy.  His site remains on-line here.  The last update was Nov. 20.  I need to remind Robin and Dave to add to it.  Bennie’s is a continuing story.

Feb. 4, 2019 Yesterday (Sunday) I was at the Men’s Retreat I have attended the last four years.  It seemed a good time to do a “selfie” about the actual person a few weeks after heart surgery.  It took a few tries…here’s the one I decided to “launch”.

Right before going to the Retreat, I made a brief post on the occasion of the beginning of “Heart Month”.  If you wish, it is here.  The recovery process continues.

Jan. 29, 2019. Today begins the 9th week after the surgery.  Yesterday I was at Cardiac Rehab (part of the recovery program – there are five in my group, and we do an hour at 8 a.m. M-W-F) and the therapist was introducing me to weights.  She asked me to put my arms over my head.  I told her I’d been told not to do that.  Well, she said, you’re more than six weeks post-operative and it’s fine.  It was a good reminder, I’m sure not an unusual one to people in the same boat I’ve been: “you’re healing.  Time to try something new….”   Day by day, confidence returns, a little at a time.

I write in the first day of subzero – way below zero – weather in my area.  The norm for everyone here will be limitd mobility for three days or so; stay home if you don’t need to go out.  Cardiac Care is only two or three miles away; the walking place not much further.  We’ll see what the a.m. shows: the class is at 8 a.m.

I’m not feeling 100% yet, but really feeling pretty good.  There is really not much else to report.  Life is beginning to seem like it’s returning to normal.

Jan. 19, 2019.  I returned home from the Rehab Center on December 21, 2018.  It was great to be home.  Of course this was also in the midst of Christmas-New Years season.  This particular end of year was completely dominated by earlier events in December, and as most any family knows, there are visits, events, etc., which make up the family rituals called, usually, “Christmas”.  I deeply appreciated all of the visits, etc., but the healing process was really delayed until after Jan. 1.  “Christmas time” was more than a bit foggy.

Today, it is a month and a half since the surgery on Dec. 4 – it seems like yesterday…and like a year ago – odd how time is both compressed and extended in my minds eye.  The most recent medical appointment was yesterday.  I think that if you actually saw me these days I would look and act basically the same as before.  I hardly used things like the walker and a chair for the shower, and never used a cane.  I seem to have passed muster on the assorted sensory and cognitive tests.  I’ve already walked near a mile in one outing (which may have been a bit much, though I’m glad I did). Yesterday I took a brief solo drive in my car (with Dr. knowledge and permission).  I did just fine.  But extended forays are a ways in the future yet.  I’m not pretending that all is the same as it was Dec. 3, 2018….  Healing is a process.  One day at a time….

Yesterday was appointment with Neurologist at University of Minnesota Health..  His function was to assess my “cerebrovascular accident (CVA) due to bilateral embolism of middle cerebral arteries  and Gait disorder.”  Of course, I was “eye witness” to this small stroke not long after I began to come out of the fog of the surgery: I had no ability to use my left leg – it is an indelible memory.

There was an immediate brain scan, and yesterday we had a look at the results of that scan.  It is interesting to watch one’s brain on parade on the computer monitor, with little markers attached to show what had happened where at the time of the surgery.

Dr. took me through all of the usual tests yesterday – hand-eye; peripheral vision, reflex, walking and the like.  Best I know, I passed everything easily (always a point of nervousness as I age).  We talked a  bit about stuff – open heart surgery is not like a dentist appointment!  Next week is complete echocardiography (which is where this adventure began back in the summer of 2018), with Ziopatch monitor, probably to keep track of the early concern of AFIB (never before a problem for me).  They drew some blood for Methylmalonic Acid and vitamin B12 assessment (apparently no problems).

(I noted the clinic was about a block from where first wife Barbara died July 24, 1965 of Kidney Disease.  Back then it was the main University of Minnesota Hospital; the structure remains, of course, but has been extensively changed over the years.  It is still a teaching hospital, as it was then.)

And then back home.

I am thankful to be around at this stage in my life, and feeling better each day.  Enjoy and use well the time you have left.  We are all on the trip.

Here’s a good reminder: The Station001

Possibly down the road a piece, I’ll attempt to describe how life looked to me as a patient.  Possibly….

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Jan. 12, 2019:  Jan. 4 was the one month anniversary of heart surgery.  Jan. 12 seemed like far more than a month.  Looking at it reflectively I’m actually making progress.

Four mornings ago I walked a full quarter mile indoors at the local Bielenberg Sports Center, where the perimeter (the walking area) of the three indoor soccer fields is just under a quarter of a mile.  That is one-tenth of what I used to walk, (at a slower pace, so far); But I now have a goal, and for me announcing the goal is a good incentive.   The second day I walked two laps; yesterday, three.  Yesterday I took a break due to other appointments (four days next week I have one appointment or another); today I was back to the routine of slowly regaining strength and confidence and doing a 4-lap session….  I’m no hero at fitness, but as anyone knows, if you’re going to improve, there is a certain amount of “pain” involved.  On I go.

The last few days the occupational and physical therapy folks have checked me out.  Things like balance and the like seem in pretty decent shape; a little out of kilter in some instances due to the stroke.  Actually doing something (activity) will be the best remedy, it seems.

There is little else to be said, than to repeat the gratitude I have earlier expressed for the entire ‘system’ – family, friends, professionals, on and on.

I will continue to do updates from time to time, all at this page.  Check in once in awhile.  The first will be later today.

Let me leave it at that.

I’ll keep you apprised.

 

Previous, on topic: “Aging Infrastructure”, here.  Summation post at this space on or about Dec. 28, 2018, “Infrastructure”.  

I write in person from my usual home office space in Woodbury.

Yesterday afternoon Cathy and my daughter Lauri brought me home from the Rehab hospital of the Fairview Hospital system. It was the 17th day after the open heart surgery on December 4.

There is time to go into the details, likely to be shared later at Caring Bridge.

My travel the last two weeks included a “small” stroke, which at minimum does seriously impede typing speed and accuracy with my left hand. It is a big change after over 60 years of typing, hopefully remediable in coming weeks and months.

Great friend Peg has set up a Caring Bridge site for me. It is greatly appreciated. I never in my life expected that I would join grandson Ben Menier at Caring Bridge My initial heart diagnosis came on the exact same day as Ben’s car accident: the afternoon of May 25, 2018. Here we are, Bennie and I, a couple of miles and 65 years apart, each of us re-learning aspects of life we had come to take for granted.

I keep thinking of a marvelous Ted Talk by filmmaker Louis Schwartzberg which I first shared at this space seven years ago. As Christmas approaches, however you and others observe the day/season of Christmas. I’d like to recommend this quietly and deeply inspiring reflection on grounding ourselves. You can access the 10-minute video here.

I am grateful, this day, the day which would be my Dad’s 111th birthday (he died Nov. 7, 1997).

There is so much to be thankful for; so many individuals and groups, especially the community of Fairview .

Have a great holiday and New Year, and great thanks to everyone, in diverse ways has conveyed best wishes.

 

Tuesday, Dec. 4, in the morning I have a date for an upgrade of my internal systems: replacement of aortic heart valve and, it was determined in a recent pre-op test, two sections of artery.  The hospital, Fairview Southdale, helpfully provides an overview of post-surgery life for me, for anyone interested.

Given a hoped for good outcome, you can ask me in awhile how it really was….  In the meantime, this is a time of reflection for me.  This is not a routine matter.  Of course, I have no idea about the outcome.  The season of Advent begins on Sunday, Dec. 2.  It is a good time to practice the skills of peace, justice and the broadest definition of neighborliness.

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Uncle Vincent had this same procedure a dozen years ago, and I was his driver and attendant at the time.  I know, now, how he experienced the preliminaries to open heart surgery, up close and personal.  He lived nine years afterwards, dying at 90.

He was 81 when he had the procedure.  I’m 78.

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For some reason I find myself thinking back to 1958 when I was 18 years old, heading off to college at Valley City ND.  That happened to be the very year when the first 12 mile section of ND Interstate 94 was basically complete between Jamestown and Valley City; part of the last 38 or so miles of my route from Sykeston.  I remember two things, vividly: 1) they said the road cost “a million dollars a mile”; and certain parts of that first dozen miles – namely the shoulders – had not yet been completed.  You needed to keep your eyes on the road.  But that first stretch was a very big deal, brand fresh and new.

1958 was 60 years ago, and virtually all of the interstate system is now 50 years or older, and showing its signs of age.  Every summer some new stretch is closed for a dozen or so miles to be redone.

I guess that is what facing me in this aging body.  I feel good – walk my two miles most every day, and more in between.  I will probably do so again today, depending on fresh snow, here.

The heart diagnosis came as a surprise.  Had there not been my annual physical back on May 25 – the same afternoon grandson Bennie and his Dad had their accident – I could have gone along unawares for some while yet, but inevitably there would have been a surprise.

So, off I go for repair.

Repairing the Infrastructure:

No one guarantees any certain outcome in a surgery.  Of  course, life offers no guarantees either.  Something can happen, any time, any where.  Any one of us can make a list – probably a long one – of the times something happened that could have ended our own life journey, but didn’t.

We’re fortunate to live in a time when much can be done, medically; I’m fortunate to have excellent support in all ways.

Anyone with an interest can google what is now my topic and come up with endless information.  On the spectrum, I gather I’m relatively low risk, which does not mean no risk.  I hope for good news long term.  We’ll see.

With extensive experience, the medical community has doubtless learned a great deal over time.  All patients are beneficiaries.

Still, my body, like anyone’s, feels the effect of age in differing ways.

On my life “menu”, apparently the heart was the weaker link.

It is my good fortune that there have been immense advances in successfully dealing with such ailments.  Of course, there are no guarantees.  They’ll do their best….

The Pace of Progress: 

Sunday afternoon I had an unusual opportunity to observe progress through an old movie: “Jurassic Park”.  Our 89 year old friend, Don, a Jurassic Park fan, and I, watched the movie with the full live Minnesota Orchestra playing the “soundtrack” in front of the screen.  It was a phenomenal afternoon.

On the way out I asked another attendee, “when was this film made?”  She said “1993”.  That’s 25 years ago.

Back then I saw the then-just released film at Mall of America, with a young guest from Germany, who I was taking to his host family.  I thought I was giving him a real treat.  He told me later the film was so frightening that he couldn’t watch it.

Looking at the same film 25 years later, I was most struck by how technology has changed since 1993.  DNA made an appearance in the film; a computer system supervised by a nerd was a near disaster, cloning.  There were many other “that was then, this is now” moments in this old sci-fi fantasy – a reminder about how far we’ve come; still a reminder that even the best has its downside.

Don noted the number of folks at Orchestra Hall whose iPhones were on before and during intermission inside the hall.  He’s never had a computer.  25 years ago, we’d not have seen such….

What will everything look like 25 years from now?  Even under the most optimistic scenario, I won’t be around 25 years from now.  Hopefully, progress will not go retro in the coming 25 years.  There is a danger that we could actually regress, in uncomfortable and perhaps even tragic ways.

Enough for now.

Back in 2006, I drove Uncle Vince and Aunt Edithe to Fargo as he took his trip into the unknown of open heart surgery.  We stayed overnight in the motel next door.  His brother, Art, and wife Dee, were there too.

He was to report for surgery very early the next morning.  I brought him to the hospital.

This was his first time for such a confrontation.  For 81 years he’d lived on the home farm in rural Berlin ND.  He knew the procedure had to be done, but he’d much rather have been back home.

I watched him walk, resolutely, in to the prep area; later the same day saw him right after surgery; sometime later ushered him into the rest of his long life back in LaMoure ND.

Next Tuesday I report, at 5 a.m., as Vincent did a dozen years ago.

He and his sister, Edithe, are on my mind as these days continue.  They made it to 90 and 93 respectively.

We’ll see.

Have a great December, Holiday season and New Year in 2019.

This evening and tomorrow: Concert: A Place Called Home flyer v1

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Thursday we attended the Minnesota Orchestra, and on the program was a piece by Shostakovich, Concerto No. 2 for Cello and Orchestra, performed by the Orchestra’s Cello Principal, Anthony Ross.

Anthony and the Minnesota Orchestra exemplify “excellence”, and so it was Thursday.  He and colleague cellists offered an encore entitled “Song of the Birds“, memorably performed by Pablo Casals.  Here is the piece performed by Casals himself years ago.

Tony dedicated the encore to refugees, and to social justice.  Simply, let the piece, and Pablo Casals, speak for themselves.  Thank you, Tony Ross.

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Life is full of surprises, if one is open to them.

Saturday evening we attended the annual dinner of the Islamic Resource Group in the Twin Cities.

Keynote speaker Todd Green of Luther College spoke on “Assuming the Best of Our Muslim Neighbors“.

Among his remarks he articulated three rules of engagement by theologian Krister Stendahl (more detail at end of this post):

1.  When trying to understand another religion, you should ask the adherents of that religion and not its enemies;
2. Don’t copare your best to their worst;
3. Leave room for “holy envy”.

I was in that room Saturday night because of memorable hospitality by a Moslem family when I was in 8th grade, 65 years ago.  More here.

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Sunday, I was at the 100th anniversary commemoration of the end of WWI at the Landmark Center in St. Paul, sponsored by Veterans for Peace. The very fine gathering ended with the song made famous by John Denver: Last Night I Had The Strangest Dream.  People were invited to dance.  (if you click on the above link, it will redirect you to YouTube, and the song.)

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Then, Thursday came an e-mail from nephew Sean in Houston TX.   He’d been part of a “sleepout” for Covenant House.  $651,802 was contributed; Sean brought in $14,200 through his own efforts.  Included in his e-mail were these comments:

“Starfish story: You may not make a difference to ALL – but you can make ALL the difference to one.

“I stayed up late because I wanted to see everyone sleeping out, I started to cry because you were all doing it for me” (Young woman at Covenant House)

“No one knows I am here, please no photos” (Young man going into the army from Covenant House)

“As I laid my sleeping bag on the ground I thought about bugs and rodents. I did not worry about being robbed or raped.” (Sleeper talking about the experience)

“50% or more say they have been “trafficked””. (Talking about those who come to Covenant House)

“They come from all over – we have even seen parents abandon their kids by dropping them on the corner and speeding away”

Thank you for helping me make a difference – most importantly to all those at Covenant House and whom they service – but also most profoundly in my awareness and appreciation and the push outside the comfort zone. There are great people out there – they just need us to see them as people – not homeless…This last thought struck true as I walked into a Starbucks, disheveled, sleeping bag, back pack, and to various stares and eyes as I went to use the bathroom – on my way back to my office…no one knew what we have all done last night – no one needs to know – except the woman who got the pair of socks – that was what mattered.”

(NOTE: earlier in Sean’s note: “1 woman whose face lit up and said “God bless you” for a pair of socks”.)

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Then came cousin Mary Kay’s notice about tonights concert (lead in this blog) which, I gather includes homeless persons as singers.  Quite certainly we’ll be there.

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The bad news?  Of course, it’s out there.

But let’s look at the positive for a few days, anyway.  Have a great weekend, week, and Thanksgiving.

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Krister Stendahl: Prof. Green’s remarks merited and received a well-deserved standing ovation from the audience in the filled ballroom at the hotel.  I had never heard of these rules, nor of Prof. Stendahl before Saturday.  Google his name; an excellent articulation of the rules is found here.  The rules are clear, brief and easy to understand.

Comment from Doreen, read in Mary McGlone’s column in the Nov. 18, 2018 National Catholic Reporter:

“In 1912, as political events were churning toward World War I, the French poet Charles Péguy wrote a book-length poem about God and hope, “The Portal of the Mystery of Hope.”

In part, it read:  The [virtue] I love best, says God, is hope. Faith doesn’t surprise me … [creation is so resplendent] … Charity … doesn’t surprise me … these poor creatures … unless they had a heart of stone, how could they not have love? … But hope, says God, that is something that surprises me….”

from Dick: This reminds me of a painting of a flag given to friends of Harold Stassen on his 90th birthday in 1997.  Stassen was one of the signers of the UN Charter in 1945.  The painting by Robert Mulder. loaned to me by a friend who had inherited it.

And in 1939, Christina Berning, a ND farm wife and relative I barely knew, sat down and wrote this poem (page 60 of “Pioneers”, a family history I put together in 2005.)  Christina died in 1950 RIP.

Hope

Strong winds are fiercely blowing / Winter days are cold and drear / Tis nice to sit by fireside glowing / And feel that spring soon will be here.

Cheer up, cheer up, my dear friend / And prepare ye for the spring / Winter so cold, soon will end / And the birds again will sweetly sing.

We will all hope and pray / for surely then we shall see / The dawning of a new day / and nineteen thirtynine’s prosperity

Then if we work, with might and main, / And carefully put our seed in / God will give us plenty of rain / To fill up our old grain bin.