What is a storytale?

A storytale is my contribution to the well-being of humankind. That includes my own well-being. Likely no one enjoys the storytales I write more than I do. That’s because I call to mind an image of what I am writing. I will just go ahead and admit that I often get a few chuckles and sometimes a good old deep belly laugh with convulsions and tears. I am alone when I write, so no one comes to haul me away.

The writer of Proverbs in the Bible (King Solomon is credited with many of them) said, “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones” (chapter 17, verse 22, King James Version). I also like the Good News Translation which says, “Being cheerful keeps you healthy. It is slow death to be gloomy all the time.” Health science and the Bible are in agreement that humor is healthy.

I like to say I’m a storytaler. A storytale is sort of a hybrid of a story and a tale. A story might be true or maybe mostly true. A tale is, well, just that—a tale. It may be just a little bit true, but more than a little bit would be a real stretch. A storytale is sort of like starting off with what could be a story and then doctoring it up with a bit of tale-ish-ness. If the story sounds unbelievable, it could be a storytale!

One of my favorite storytales is about Miz Rosemary Overstreet. Almost 70 years ago, she was the Sunday School teacher for ages eight to eleven at the Friendly Village Church. It was the time of year when those pesky little yellow and black wasps built nests in church outhouses. Miz Rosemary had a habit of dismissing her Sunday School class just a few minutes early for personal reasons. One Sunday there was a lot of commotion down the little path to the outhouse…

Storytales may find their way onto this site. If little squiggly lines and the stain of tears show up in the type, you’ll know I was deeply enjoying “merry medicine”. I don’t ever want to compromise my effectiveness in helping people by getting too far into craziness. But craziness in moderation can be one way to be helpful.  Anyway, I don’t want to be too sane. I’ve tried sanity, and I think a little crazy is better. Maybe a few upcoming storytales will help you dance around the edge of sanity.

“A little ridicularity goeth a long way.” (Proverbs 98:6, King Daniel Version).  

Grief — It’s still not real.

The “not real” phase of grief begins upon learning of the death. The unreality continues through the time of decision-making for burial. The mind moves through plans while at the same time it denys the need for making them. All this is still not real. This cannot be happening to me.

People are here who would not be here, at least not right now. I know it’s real, but it just can’t be! The mind argues with itself in an effort to find some level of sanity. I need to greet these people. I want them to know I appreciate their thoughtfulness. But, oh, I would like so much just to slip out and be alone for a while.

The initial, unreal phase of grief is actually merciful. This is especially so when the death is sudden and unexpected. The full impact of total reality would be a heavy load for the mind, emotions, and body to bear all at once. The early numbness is purposeful.

The people to contact. The planning. The decisions. It is a wonder that I can even think, and sometimes I just seem to go blank. I hope I didn’t leave anyone out of the obituary and that I have all the names spelled right. The necessity to deal with details is also purposeful. It requires the mind to focus, evaluate, and make decisions. And the togetheness of shared planning is meaningful.

Please be patient with yourself in the unreal early portion of your grief as well as throughout the entire grief experience. The sense of unreality, the numbness, and difficulty in focusing are all normal. Having to say goodbye to a loved one challenges our strongest inner resources. The experience of grief is a process and will take time.

Grieving? Talk. Listen. Cry.

How do you know if you are grieving? What is grief? Grief is the response of the mind, feelings, body, and spirit to loss. What is loss? Loss is separation from persons, things, places, or circumstances that we value. When someone says, “I’m sorry for your loss,” they often mean they are sad that we have experienced the death of a loved one.

Horrible loss is being experienced by the Dublin City Schools family and the entire community due to the deaths of Dr. Jaroy Stuckey, his wife, Elysea, three-year-old son A. J., and their unborn daughter, due in May. The horror is compounded by the nature of the deaths in a multi-vehicle highway crash and fire. This family was highly valued not only because of their contribution to the community but who they were as persons.

Dr. Fred Williams, Superintendent, Dublin City Schools, said he related to Dr. Stuckey as a mentor and as a father figure. He respected the young principal as a Christian. He also said he would have liked Dr. Stuckey to someday succeed him as schools superintendent. I understand that Dr. Stuckey greeted students as they arrived at school each morning. Friends described him as a warm, personable, caring, and capable leader.

Loss is real. It comes to each of us. Now it has come to an entire school family of teachers, students, families, staff, administrators, and neighboring schools. Grief, our response to loss, is natural and normal. Grief expresses itself in many ways. Physical symptoms, mental and emotional stress, and spiritual questions all find their way into the mix. In such a loss as this one that impacts the community so deeply, it is helpful to grieve as a community.

Talking through our feelings, listening to others talk through theirs, and even crying together all have their place in grieving. Electronic communications and sensible practice of pandemic precautions can provide for the sharing of grief. Grief is a process and not an event. Working through it takes time, and doing it together is helpful.

Friends, families, school authorities, fellow workers, pastors, and professionals are sources for grief support. Take care of yourself by getting the help you need. You may find that by getting help for yourself, you can help someone else. A key to grieving is to find ways to express your grief that do not harm others or yourself.

And finally, if you have a trusted friend or family member who can let you say anything you need to say without judging you, you have found a priceless treasure!

Losing Heat, Keeping cool!

Late on a wintry Saturday, the skin thermometer signaled a change. The hallway thermostat thermometer said yes, skin thermometer, you’re right. The air system is not keeping this place warm. Call for help. I called. The technician said he does not go out on weekends, and his daughter’s sixteenth birthday is on Monday. He will come on Tuesday.  B-r-r-r-h.

The sixteen-year-old’s daddy showed up Tuesday morning. Diagnosis: chasing chill away will cost thousands. Daddy left with plans to email prices possibly as early as that same afternoon. That same afternoon, no contact. Wednesday, no contact, Thursday, no contact. Daddy must have had to return sixteen-year-old’s birthday gift multiple times. Friday morning, email arrived with prices.

In a return email, I tried to be tactful in letting the tech know I prefer more business-like communication. In a follow-up email that same morning, I said I would plan to get back not later than Tuesday to update plans for replacing the air system. On Monday, I contacted the technician and ordered a system which the tech said could be installed by the end of the week.

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, no contact. Friday, 2:40 p.m., I said in an email that follow-through and communication were not satisfactory.  I canceled the installation. At this writing, four days later, still no contact. Double-checking to be sure I was fair about the matter, I printed the emails. My wife and I went over them. We reviewed the phone calls. Consensus: I was fair.

I am still losing heat, but I am keeping my cool. Another company has inspected the job twice. A new system is on order. There will be more than twenty-five-percent savings. Communication and dependability are pluses also. Sometimes when Plan A falls through, Plan B proves to be a better Plan A than Plan A proved to be!

It is always better to keep our cool, even when losing our heat!

Hailing Health Care Heros

Perhaps a doctor teamed up with my mother when I first showed up. I didn’t get a report, and I have no birth pictures. The next two doctors tried to keep me from tearing myself apart in childhood. They worked with breaks above and below my left knee at ages three and six. One of them plastered me in a cast from my toes to my waist on that left side and down to just above the knee on the other side.

For twenty years, I’ve worn electronic devices in my chest to support heart function. Within the past two years, one of them restarted my heart after it stopped for twenty-one seconds. My home sits on “lights and sirens alley,” my name for this busy street for ambulances on calls. I occasionally quip that we will not have to call for an ambulance. We can just flag one down at the street!  

I have considerable respect for you folks who fill many health care roles in keeping the rest of us up and going. Thank you for answering your call to health care, your devotion to challenging studies, your juggling crazy work schedules, and your blending compassion with professional expertise.

An extra few words of appreciation for your commitment to care during the Covid-19 crisis. The threat and grim reality of loss impact you as a health care provider. You do not give up your humanity when you take on the role of a professional. You are trained and inwardly geared to work for recovery and well-being. You grieve when your patient does not make it.

Please take care of yourself! It takes discipline, and you may have to say no sometimes. Stress management calls for special attention to healthy habits in nutrition, rest, and exercise. We need some time to ourselves for reflection. We need a listener with whom we can drain off some tension. And we need to just relax with some plain ole fun!

A snappy salute to our HEALTH CARE HEROS! Please know you are appreciated. Take care of yourself!

Two Perks of Patience

Patience is something I would like to have if I don’t have to wait for it. I like Google’s definition: “the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset.” So if I have the patience to accept a delay and to wait through trouble for things to get better, that’s a good thing. Right?

One of the perks of patience is the replacing of stress with calm. All the stress may not leave at once. Complete calm may not be evident instantaneously. Accepting that which I cannot control is a key to stress relief. And stress relief is one of the perks of patience that is mentally and emotionally healthy for me.

One other perk of patience for me is the opportunity to learn something new and helpful about living. A friend who is a landlord says he does not get bent out of shape when something does not go his way. If a tenant will not pay the rent on time, my friend says that rather than get upset, “I learn.”

Remaining calm allows my mind to focus and gather helpful information. With calm and information, I can learn. That’s far better than stirring my emotional arthritis with a knee-jerk reaction.

Two perks of patience–calm and learning.

“Permission” to grieve?

Our eyes lock onto familiar names in the list of obituaries. A friend calls to say someone we know is no longer with us. The president leads a memorial as our country passes a half-million Covid-19 deaths. We tighten the grip on our own sanity as we wonder at the maskless faces of loved ones in groups on facebook.

Loss and grief challenge our coping resources. We often think of loss as separation from a person through death. Of course loss occurs in other ways, but in this post I am talking about loss through death. Grieving is our response to loss. Grieving is practical. It includes gatherings and rituals. But healthy grieving is more than practical.

Grieving involves the whole person–emotional, mental, spiritual, social and physical. Let’s take a brief look at the emotional level of grieving. Crying is one way to express sorrow in time of loss. Some of us are uncomfortable with flowing tears, especially our own. But crying can be a healthy release, flowing away some of the emotional debris of the pain of loss.

At the first meeting of a support group, Rosa (not her real name) was only three months past her husband’s death. During her voluntary out loud prayer, Rosa began crying. She continued to both cry and pray, simultaneously. While receiving the group’s care, Rosa allowed the stored up pain of loss to freely flow. She courageously gave herself permission to grieve.

“Permission to grieve” sounds sort of strange, doesn’t it? Grieving is natural, normal, healthy, and necessary. Why should we have to have permission? Our culture somehow convinces us that open expression of the emotion of grief is a sign of weakness and unacceptable. Maybe as more of us join Rosa in accepting our tears, crying will gain acceptance as a healthy way to express the emotion of grief.

Permission to grieve could be a real gift to both ourselves and others.

Ceedra passes the biscuits.

Ceedra Montine, our pulpwood truck driving eighth-grader, pulled into the Bar None Ranch outside Seeping Springs, Colorado, just before noon on Saturday. Cowhands were washing up on the back porch in eager anticipation of sitting at Ms. Almarie Finnegan’s table. Rusty Finnegan showed Ceedra to her seat next to his own at the head of the table.

After the blessing, Rusty introduced Ceedra to his family and the cowhands. “This young lady is Ms. Ceedra Montine from central Georgia. She just pulled in behind the wheel of her own pulpwood truck. Ceedra, we don’t know much about pulpwod out here. We’ll have to trade off some learning.

“You explain to us what you do back home with that truck, and we’ll teach you to ride, rope, brand, and bulldog a steer to the ground. Yep, even a wrangler your size can put a steer on the ground. It takes more grit and know-how than size.”

Ceedra was hungry following the final 200 miles of her drive. When the huge platter of roast and potatoes came her way, she helped herself and passed the platter to Roper, the cowhand next to her. He seemed a bit nervous. Don’t be nervous. This is all brand new to me. I bet you’re at this table every time Mr. Rusty lets you in the door.

Roper reinforced Ceedra’s suspicion when she passed the hot, golden, melt-in-your-mouth biscuits. The hungry cowhand could not wait to pass them on before he crunched down on Ms. Almarie’s trademark ranch house bread. Rusty Finnegan grinned, “Roper, you make the folks in the kitchen feel good about what they do.”

Ceedra swallowed quickly to keep from losing a swig of sweet ice tea as she saw Roper’s face turn Georgia sunburn red.

Working through Blog Fog!

Taking a shot at a dream is what the hours working on this website are all about. Sometimes I have a few thoughts I would like to pass along. This website seemed to offer the connection I need. But there are a few challenges.

Challenge #1. I don’t have formal training in the technical side of computers, websites, and the tech jargon that goes along with them.

Challenge #2. I do have an independent streak that keeps me from asking for help or reading instructions until I reach frustration level four in the maze of confusion. Also, I do not like to call in the pros for add-on costs.

Challenge #3. My system is archaic and slow. Someone called it a dinosaur, but I am not sure it is that recent. I am here because my other website people made changes that kept me from getting into my dashboard without upgrades to my system.

But hey! I’ll make it if I keep coming back. That’s what the recovery community says. “Keep coming back. It’ll work if you work it.” I keep coming back, and you’re reading about it. I must be making progress in the process!

Who is this Poster?

My name is Dan. I’m the old guy under the straw hat in the rocking chair. That hat, the yellow shirt, and a pair of jeans make up my tall tales telling uniform. Now you know that I like to both write and talk.

I am the son of a sharecropper. When I was age seven, we had already lived in six locations. Maybe we kept moving to try to find a better share of the crop. Daddy was good with farm tractors, row crops, cows, and pigs. Working the land takes a certain amount of patience. Some of it spilled over into teaching his son to fish and hunt. Patience also found its way to the cows who let us harvest our own milk.

I am also the son of an old-fashioned country farm “housewife.” Mama’s pleasure was her chickens and her baby son, but not in that order. She collected eggs which found their way to the breakfast table and into scrumptious chocolate cakes. A chicken, itself, frequently found its way to the table via the frying pan. Making up rhymes was part of Mama’s kitchen routine. She also taught me Bible verses.

Faith, church, and the Bible have been vital parts of my life from an early age. I am now interested in the adjustments of later life and end of life. I reach out to a few folks in their losses of loved ones. I am blessed to have my wife of fifty-five years and our small terrier who thinks she is a people! We try to keep up with what is going on with our two mid-life sons and their families.

It would be great if somehow I could find out a bit about you also. What do you like? What are some of your accomplishments and goals? What are some of whatever you consider to be failures? They are not complete failures if we learn from them.

Maybe I can figure out how to use this new website venture for a two-way connection.