Our Angel Gets Her Wings

 

Let me start this off by sharing a funny story about Kathy from my book, Life is But a Dream:

(His mother came home from the hospital with his new‑born sister that October morning in 1953. He was two- and one-half years old. He was happy to see his mom, since she had been away for what seemed a very long time. Actually, it was only three days.

 Anyway, he was running around the house, generally causing a ruckus. His mom asked, no, pleaded with him to be quiet while his sister slept in the bedroom. Mom sat in the kitchen crying. He realized that things weren't the way they were supposed to be, so he listened and went inside to watch TV.

He was quiet for a long time. His mom went to see what he was doing. Well, to her surprise and dismay, he was carrying his sister by her ankles in the hall. "She was crying," he said, "and I wanted to help you. So, I went to get her for you."

 Panic seized his mom. However, she had enough sense to reach out and take the baby from him. "Thank you, Frankie," she said, calmly. "That was nice that you wanted to be a big brother to your sister, and that you wanted to help me. But next time please come and get me, OK?")

 That was the first memory I have about my sister. But it is not the last.

 As small children, she was my first friend, and as we grew, as our family did, we would be there for each other in good times, as well as, in not as good.  When I got myself into trouble, as my Angel Sister, she would comfort me. When she was in trouble, I would defend her.

 In our early adult years, we would hang out at the Garden City Chop House. On Friday and Saturday nights, Kathy, Jeff, and I would spend hours there with our neighbor Joe, dancing and listening to great music from the many bands which played there week after week. And on Sunday mornings, the three of us, would trek to the Tulip Bake Shop, tired and with no sleep.  Oh, did I mention that Kathy and Jeff were still in High School and under eighteen?

 Anyway, there was one night, when Jeff and Joe decided to see how many Rums and Cokes they could drink. Kathy, sensing there would be a problem, called home to have our Dad come to pick her and Jeff up. (By this time, I was working overnight at the bakery, so I heard about this later.)  Dad came in and witnessed this chug-a-thon and instead of ushering them out, he sat and watched them have at it drinking his Red Label and water, which Kathy bought for him.

 Finally, at 4 AM they got into Dad’s Kingswood Estate wagon. Kathy sat in the front, while Jeff and Joe fell asleep in the back seat. When they pulled into the driveway, after much prodding. Kathy was able to wake Jeff and Joe up. She followed them into the backyard whereupon, Joe walked into the hedges to his house while Jeff continued to the street to leave an involuntary protein spill in the gutter.

 Kathy, in her usual way, helped Jeff into bed and set the alarm for Jeff so he would be able to get to work on time. When the alarm rang what seemed like two minutes later, Kathy came to wake Jeff up so he would be able to get to work on time.

 Kathy would be there for her younger brothers and sister, too, whenever any of them needed to be bailed out of a difficult situation, which they would remember and could share the intimate details of their own experiences.

 In later years, all of us would remember her soft-spoken, gentle way she would be there for any of us. Her favorite means of address to any of us was “Dear Brother” or “Dear Sister”, She even treated her brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law with the same salutation. She instinctively understood that family was not only blood-related but friend-related, too.  She made no distinction in her treatment.

 She is now with our Mom and Dad, our brother Tim, our nephew Steven, our cousins Mike, Tommy, Kerri and Jerry, and all our deceased family and friends sharing God’s Love at the Table of Good and Plenty. Perhaps, as she is fitted with her well-earned Angel Wings, she can put in a good word or two for the rest of us.

 As all of who knew Kathy would agree, that was her way. Always.  Rest In Eternal Peace, Dear Sister.

Why the Mental Capacity of Our Representatives Is Critical

It has become apparent to any fair-minded person that there are people in out highest levels of government from both parties who allegedly suffer from some form of dementia. Presently, both President Biden and Senator McConnell are two men who should not be in the positions they have. Nor, actually, should Diane Feinstein or several others in both the House of Representatives and the Senate.

 I am a seventy-two-year-old man who has several critical health issues and have learned that age eventually becomes a factor in any endeavor one attempts physically and mentally. When I was in my fifties, I resented the term “over-qualified” because I felt I was discriminated against. Subtly.  But as an older person, I recognize that employers must be considerate of a senior citizen’s abilities and capabilities.

 I have come to believe that Members of Congress and those in the Presidency, and the Courts are in positions where, if they are over seventy-five, they should take a cognitive test to make certain they are able to understand the significance of their decisions. This isn’t an issue of discrimination. Instead, it is common sense, because as a person in a critical position which affects us all must understand the ramifications of those decisions.

 In the private sector, employers expect their employees to be able to function in challenging situations. For example, a hospital would be subject to a lawsuit and potential financial ruin if a surgeon on staff were to lose a patient because the doctor slipped and accidently injured or killed a patient. Or, if a Supervisor at Home Depot or Lowes allowed a person with slower reflexes to drive a forklift and the driver hit a customer, or dropped a product which caused injury, the financial damages would be costly.

 Now, I realize that these are exaggerations of worst-case scenarios. Or are they?

 There are several people in their seventies and eighties I know who come across as sharp as a tack and can hold their own in a conversation, make reasonable decisions and/or put forth creative ideas which a younger person with less experience may not be able to provide. And, then, there are those who should not be sitting in the driver’s seat of their car, driving on the expressway. We all know someone like these people.

 We are the employers of those we elect to the highest positions in our government. We should be able to expect, no, demand that they can function at the highest physical and mental capabilities.

 Whether the person is Doanld Trump, or Joe Biden, or Mitch McConnell, or Diane Feinstein, or anyone who aspires to serve at the highest elected positions of government, we should expect that they pass a cognitive and competency test if they are over seventy-five. As the employer, we would be remiss in our responsibilities if we didn’t.

 I realize that some people will disagree with me and that it fine. But I expect that the next President has the mental capacity to understand that his decisions will affect me, my children, and my grandchildren.

 And so should you.