My First Beer

One summer in the 1960s, I was working as a nurse at a hospital in a small city near a military base.  When I came to work one morning, I was assigned to one patient and one only.  There was no ICU at the hospital.  ICUs were just coming into being, and this patient needed constant attention.

He had been admitted during the night, and he was a big, strong young man on temporary assignment at the military base.  He had unfortunately been drinking heavily the prior evening.  He became so drunk that he fell from a second-floor porch and landed on his head.  He reeked of beer.  No catheter had yet been inserted, so there was a urinal between his legs to catch what was coming out of his bladder.  It was foamy and smelled like beer.

Not only was he unconscious, but I saw some white material oozing from his ear.  I knew it was brain tissue and put it on a gauze square to show the doctor when he came in.  When the doctor arrived, he noticed it sitting on the bedside stand immediately…before I had a chance to call his attention to it.  He decided to do a tracheotomy and proceeded to do one right there in the room.  This was to no avail, however, as the young man died only about 3 hours later.  His brain injury was incompatible with life.

If I was ever tempted to drink beer, the smell of it and the memory of the appearance of his urine turned me away.  I have always found the odor of beer revolting.

So now I am 78 and have never tried to drink beer or had the least desire to do so.  This evening, my son-in-law offered me a drink of an imported beer (German) that has only 2 and ½% alcohol and a grapefruit base.  I said I would try a very small glass.  It did not have the distinctive smell, and I actually liked the taste…not enough to make it a habit, but it was interesting to try.

I did not have “trying beer” on my bucket list, but perhaps I will do what I do with “to do” lists.  Sometimes I put something that I have already done on my “to do” list, so I can cross something off.

No Replacement

 I put a large pillow on the end of the sofa.

When I lie down for a nap,

I think my head is in your lap.

 

I took your placement from the table.

I know you are not there.

I wrap my arms around your chair.

 

I slide my hand across your side of the bed.

The blankets are still and cold.

There is no hand to hold.

 

I talk to handsome you in that photograph.

It is propped up in a chair.

Words hang unanswered in the air.

 

But that place that held my love for you,

Could that be empty?  Never!

Full and overflowing.  Forever and forever.

One Year Has Passed

A year has passed…

You have not come home from a business trip.

I have not heard you say, “Hi, Babes!”

I haven’t seen your running clothes hanging in the bathroom to dry.

You haven’t asked me to make a hot fudge sundae for you.

I haven’t seen you sitting on the other end of the couch or at the dinner table.

You haven’t described the pickleball games you played this morning.

I haven’t seen you working at your desk or attending a zoom meeting.

We haven’t walked to church holding hands.

You haven’t driven me to appointments.

You haven’t emptied the trash and taken care of recyclables.

We haven’t snuggled up to each other in bed.

We haven’t prayed together for our children and grandchildren.

I haven’t laid my head on your chest and heard your heart beating.

But…

I still talk to you.

And sometimes I feel as though you have your arms around me.

What does it mean to be "in love?"

I cannot forget watching the interview with Charles and Diana after they had become engaged.  They were asked if they were “in love.”  Diane responded positively, but Charles…like a stiff cold fish…said, “Whatever in love means.”

Diana should have removed the engagement ring, dropped it in Charles’ lap and walked away.  But Diana was only 19 years old, inexperienced and without the wisdom of age.  Charles was already in his 30s, experienced, and should have had wisdom, but apparently did not.

Although the ceremonies engaged in by the royalty are steeped in religious tradition, he apparently did not understand the meaning of the marriage vows.  In the Bible, a man is admonished to love his wife as Christ loves the Church. (Ephesians 5:25)  He is to protect and nurture his wife.  He is to make their relationship exclusive.  Charles was already “in love” with someone else.  Perhaps he thought he could keep the relationship with Diana exclusive.  But it is claimed that he told Diana that he refused to be the only Prince of Wales who didn’t have a mistress.  It doesn’t sound like he was committed to exclusivity.

Had Charles properly loved Camilla, he would have had the courage to admit his love for her and take the consequences.   Had he properly loved Diana, he would have had the self-control to focus on her and her needs, rather than his own.  If he had loved her, he would have maintained the relationship, and she would not have been out in the world seeking affection from other men.  She would not have been in a car with Dodi Fayed.  Her sons would not have grown up without their mother.

I did not watch the coronation.  I cannot respect a man who has behaved so badly. 

I cannot respect Donald Trump for similar reasons.

I do respect the men I see in the retirement community caring tenderly for their wives as they age.  The reverse is true also.  I see women standing by their husbands even in the face of physical and mental decline.   These are people who understand the marriage vows, and who will stand before God having followed the example of Christ.

I am grateful for a husband whose love was exclusive and unwavering.  Early on, we verbalized our commitment to grow old together.  I just wish “old” had meant more than his 79 years.