A Special Breed

From 1978 Class Reunion

There has been nothing like reconnecting with my nursing classmates ~ Class of 1968 as well as the entire Nursing School. These Regina General Hospital Nursing School reunions have been held annually for decades. The only break was during the Covid 19 Pandemic. Tonight the oldest woman there, graduated from the class of 1949. Classes celebrating their every five year reunions had red roses on tehir tables and were the first to be called for the buffet line. Our early alumnae suppers were when few of us had grey hair, our joints were all still working, and we talked about our little children - first days at school, basketball games and early morning hockey practices. In those years, I had wanted to renew that part of my early adult years. So many new friends, new experiences, laughing over student nursing experiences, boyfriends, young marriages and the gift of finally free of high school, and really being grown up. Tonight was another in a string of our annual Alumnae Luncheons. We changed suppers to luncheons as the work of the ages was catching up on us. Now most of us with white hair, some walkers or canes, a daughter accompanying a mother. Now we talk, just as non stop, about grandchildren, school events for them, driving kids to the practices when parents are too busy. The conversation, non-stop, turns to new experiences, travel, laughing over student nursing experiences, husbands and health conditions only if there are funny anecdotes, concerns for classmates that are unable to attend.

We are a special breed of retired nurses who spanned careers from the bedside to university lecture halls; public health nursing and school nurses and many more that I can’t name tonight. Why are we a special breed? Because few nurses educated since the mid 1970’s will have such glorious reunions of their school alumnae. We lived in a residence, had our classes and trained in the same hospital and were together for three years. When we are together with each passing decade, our numbers grow smaller, but we still sing our school song at the end of the night. We are still connected to our past selves - in fact we almost become our past selves even if for just 2 hours. 

“You’re off to great places, today is your day, 

your mountain is waiting, so get on your way.”

~ Dr. Seuss

Author's note: I used large print for those of us that may prefer it.

One More Year

In 1980 I was fed up with nursing and threw away all my pins. I resigned for a year - of course never to darken a hospital door again - but kept returning.  I also return to our five year class reunion, as often as possible. But today’s luncheon was one more year for the RGH School of Nursing luncheon. The 45th RGH School of Nursing Alumnae luncheon. More than one more class, but classes from 1949 through each year until the School closed in 1972. We were all girls then, many from farming communities throughout the province. Now we are scattered across Canada, the U.S. and even globally. Our careers have taken us to the North, into the military and war zones, at the bedside from birth to old age, public health, and into universities to teach other young people. Today, we were as those girls in the ’60’s. But our numbers grow smaller. We honour those that are no longer with us. Our hair is streaked with white, some more than others. We share about our families and fuss about how nursing has changed in ways that are different. But we are the same and will meet again next September to share a meal, our school song, memories and lots of laughter. 

“True friends are never apart, maybe in distance but never in heart.”

~ Helen Keller

Book Review: NO TIME LIKE THE FUTURE - An Optimist Considers Mortality by Michael J. Fox

Michael J. Fox was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease at age 29. Keeping it secret from everyone but his wife in those early days, he was frightened. His struggle with alcohol, already in progress, didn’t help the situation and he sobered up four years after his Parkinson’s diagnosis. This back story provided the foundation for the rest of his lively life.

Mike, as he calls himself, doesn’t dwell on the details of those days. Rather, he writes plainly and humorously about his declining health and his annoyance with it. His stubborn optimism, a life long belief, faded as Parkinson’s has him more strongly in its grip. His amazing family always support him ~  wife Tracy, son Sam, daughters Schuyler, Aquinnah and Esmé all make him laugh, care for him, let him get away with what he can ~ even when he severely broke his arm in a fall because he insisted on being alone. For just one night. This after he had finally healed from back surgery and removal of a tumour. He punished himself about that. His life long friends who golf with him despite his decreasing coordination keep him participating in life. They all attend concerts, go on holidays (one was a safari) and generally enjoy a solid family life. He doesn’t neglect to write about the Parkinson’s Foundation that he founded but doesn’t go on about it. Even though I think he’d like to. In his acting and writing careers, he writes with pride and gratitude about all the people he works with. Spike Lee asking him to do what are called ‘arc shots’ that can be filled in - especially when he had to put it off because of the broken arm.

Mood changes from Parkinson’s and the increasing physical limitations steadily narrows his options. He had always been known as someone who made lemonade out lemons, but at one point he didn’t want any more lemonade. Despite being only 58, he feels like an old man too early. A huge challenge to his optimism. It frightens him to know that 'getting better' is not an option, while he is still a young man.  His epilogue shares how their family dealt with the pandemic. All the kids coming home, their family sheltered in place at their beach home.

I related to much of what he shared in this memoir and am grateful that I picked up NO TIME LIKE THE FUTURE as my next read. It stays on my shelf, as a good read and as a resource when I am feeling my own aging in the midst of my own chronic condition. 

“With gratitude, optimism becomes sustainable.”

~ Stephen Pollan, 

Michael’s father-in-law

 Title: No Time Like the Future ~ An Optimist Considers Mortality

Author: Michael J. Fox

Copyright: 2020

Publisher: Flatiron

Type: Hardcover

Format: Memoir

ISBN - 978-1-250-26561-6 (hardcover)

ISBN - 978-1-250-26562-3 (ebook)

Chapter Two, Episode 127 - Career Day - Situationally Theirs

Career Day

Abby loved her Auntie Cook. She never called her that out loud not even to her grandma. Only in the little diaries she had given her at Christmas each year. She was too shy to talk about it, and she knew that Auntie Cook wasn’t really her aunt. But she sure felt like she was. When the girls at school talked about all their aunts and uncles, she knew that she had one too. But she was puzzled about something else. When the girls at school talked about what they were going to be when they grew up she thought some of it was dumb. Ballerinas, nurses, secretaries, and even some that the boys didn’t even want to be. Policewomen or firefighters. She didn’t like any of those things. She liked dancing but only in her room by herself. Her brother, Ben thought she was being dumb. She didn’t want to be a nurse. “That’s too icky mom! Needles and blood! Yuck!” A secretary was just boring, sitting still all day in front of a computer. Doing somebody else’s letters. A policewoman! She’d have to wear a uniform and be tough. Ben just laughed when she told him she thought about it. “You would cry if you had to be tough! Grownups don’t cry at their jobs.” She told him, she didn’t want to anyway. And a firefighter?! That was the dumbest. Going straight into a fire! Getting all dirty and maybe dead! She wouldn’t mind saving a cat up a tree or on somebody’s roof, but the fire part was too dangerous. 

So she was puzzled. “I’m only seven years old. Why do I need to think about it now. I’m not even a teenager yet.” She closed her diary when she heard her grandma’s voice downstairs. Her mother was still at school and her grandma was coming to stay with them till her mother came home. She’d know what to do. 

~~~~~

Martha came bustling in the back door. “Hello, Ben. Are you just working on your homework?” She kissed him on the top of his head. “Don’t you ever comb your hair? Where’s Abby? I’ve brought some cookies with me from Cook....Yoo hoo! Abby! Come get some cookies before your brother eats them all.” She let Ben have one - he took two - and put them on the cupboard. She filled the teakettle and put it on to boil. “There you are, my Abby. Look at you, all neat and tidy. What’s wrong? You look worried about something.” Abby glanced at Ben and barely shook her head. “Oh, nothing.” Without looking up, Ben said “She’s trying to figure out what she wants to be when she grows up.” He got up, closed his books, grabbed two more cookies and was out the door before his grandma could stop him.

“Is that what’s wrong, dear? Why do you need to figure that out now?” The tea kettle whistled. Martha poured the water into the tea pot and got two of her daughter’s china cups out. “Let’s sit down and talk about it.” It seemed a big enough problem for her usually sunny granddaughter to be so worried. “So, do you know what you want to be when you grow up?” She poured them each a cup of tea. Abby’s had more milk in it than tea, with just a little sugar to sweeten it. “I do, grandma, but you’ll laugh. And I don’t know how to do it anyways, so it’s probably just impossible.” She took a cookie from the plate her grandma has returned to the table. “Well, tell me, anyway. If I think it’s funny, I will laugh. If I think it’s a good idea then we’ll figure out how you can do it.” Abby was silent for a long time. So Martha kept her council, sipping on her tea. In a quiet voice, Abby said. “A scientist.” Martha didn’t laugh, but she had no idea how she was going to handle this one. Her granddaughter was very serious about this. “What kind of a scientist, dear?” She decided to start with that. It could be the little one may not even know what a scientist does. She wasn’t sure she even knew. “Teacher had a scientist come to talk to us today. She said she was a botanist and told us all about plants and flowers and bees and butterflies and how the climate changing is killing them. She said it lots better than that but, but I decided that’s want I want to do.” She ate the last of her cookie. “We can’t have all those dying, grandma! Where would we get honey from? It really sounded sad, but she told us how we could protect them. But I want to know about it, and maybe I can help somehow.” Martha smiled at her granddaughter. “It is a big problem and you have lots of work ahead of you if you really want to be a scientist. Did you know that you have people here that can help you get started?” Abby's face lit up. She was sure her grandma would tell her she was being silly. “Who? Is there a scientist that lives here on the Estate?” Now Martha did laugh. “No, dear, but there’s two people here who know about bees and the apple trees. Have you ever talked to Samuel before?” Abby looked shocked. “That old man that looks after the garden?” Now it was Martha’s turn to look shocked. “He’s not that old, dear. Not much older than me.” Abby grinned. “Sometimes I think you’re old, grandma. But why should I talk to Samuel? He just works all the time in the garden.”  Martha gathered their teacups and the cookie plate with only crumbs on it. “I’ll start supper now for your mother. About Samuel ~ because he always works in the garden, and because Miss Dez set up beehives last summer behind the apple orchard, he knows about bees and butterflies and how the vegetable and flowers need them………….where are you going?” Abby had jumped off her chair and was running to the stairs to her room. “I’ll be right back. I just need to get something.”

~~~~~

The dishes all done, Martha sat down with her daughter Joanie. They had time for a quiet visit before James came for Martha. “It was good of James to let you stay for supper tonight.” Martha laughed. “He knows that he’d better not ‘let me’ do anything. We both were alone too long and have our own set ways.” Joanie smiled at her stubborn mother. “I know, mom. It’s just that James is a such good man. Now what else have my children been telling you. Any complaints about their mother?” Martha patted her daughter’s hand. “No complaints at all. They are just good kids. Abby did come to me with a big problem. She’s going to need some direction from you and a good pair of garden boots.” She went on to tell her of their earlier conversation, about science and how concerned Abby was. How she had raced upstairs and come down with a notebook to write down what to do. She’ll need some books you can probably help her with, much better than I could. I have told her that Samuel and Miss Dez may be able to give her first hand knowledge about plants, bees, butterflies, and apple blossoms.”

~~~~~ 

“Science and everyday life cannot and should not be separated.”

~ Rosalind Franklin, Chemist & X-ray Crystallographer

After Effects

Four years ago tonight

my nursing career 

came to a gentle stop: 

 

Life has blossomed with

craft projects for 3 year olds, 

new friends and old, 

exploring Regina again,

the kitchen as my happy place, 

writing projects in progress. 

and beautiful ordinary household chores,

shopping for groceries and home

   caring for my feline roommate. 

It’s all good!

“If you’re brave enough to say goodbye, 

life will reward you with a new hello.”

~ Paul Coelho

Tag Along Balance

When a career of caring ends

its door left cracked open so

all the little ways and means

of doing things can tag along 

until balance begins anew

veering away from boredom

avoiding potholes on new paths

breathing deep of freer air

leaning into a new pillowed life

and never forgetting to care.

“Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

~ L. Frank Baum

For the Magic ~ PERMISSION ~ Theme for November 2021

In this life, we are all given permission. Permission to go outside and play when we’re kids. Permission to wear what we want despite direction otherwise. Children and adolescents are especially good at this. Permission to decide what job or career we want to apply for when we grow up. When we’re retired, what permission do we need from anyone? Or even want? So for this month, my theme is ‘Permission’. Permission to be ‘alive in the world’ and to enjoy the magic of it all.

Precarious, unsteady ground…

Exposed to the bright light……

Risky, rocky terrain……

Magical, yet menacing….

I can’t……..

Serving a new purpose……

Simply in front of me…….

I Can!

Over the mountain……..

New but gently worn………..

“….the reason is that when we look at nature, 

we receive a sort of permission to be alive in the world…”

~ Naoki Higashida, The Reason I Jump:

The Inner Voice of a Thirteen-Year-Old Boy with Autism

Book Review - Sold on a Monday by Kristin McMorris

It wasn’t just the sign that got Ellis Reed’s attention. The two lean boys with their icy blue eyes reminded him of the brother he had lost. On impulse he snapped the photograph that began a story that twists and turns without warning. When I began this book, it felt heart breaking but almost simple. Rather like the boys behind the carved sign ‘2 children for sale’. Ellis Reed, a struggling journalist with the Philadelpia Examiner, didn’t know that this photograph would define his career. He gained further success when he was hired by the Herald Tribune in New York. 

Lillian Palmer, also employed at the same Philadelphia Examiner, was relegated to being the secretary for the editor. She dreamt of being a journalist in her own right, but was hampered by her position in the society of the 1930’s. Prior to Ellis leaving for New York, Lily did slip the photograph onto the editor’s desk. She encouraged Ellis to write the article that became a source of guilt for him. Guilt because of the second photograph that he took to accompany the article.

Both Ellis and Lily had difficulties in their personal lives that coloured the actions that they took to return two children, Ruby and Calvin to their mother, Geraldine. Their nose for investigation and reporting took them down dangerous paths to right the events that followed from Ellis’ original article. 

“A thousand words will not leave so deep an impression as one deed.”

                ~ Kristina McMorris, Sold on a Monday

Title: Sold on a Monday

Author: Kristin McMorris

Copyright: 2018

Publisher: Sourcebooks Landmark

Type: Novel

Format: Soft Cover

LCCN - 2017061403

Chapter Two, Episode Fourteen - Tanya’s Career Path - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update:

These letters to the Storyteller, have given me an opportunity to write more character development for secondary characters like Tanya. 

The few revisions I made were minor wording changes. Otherwise it seemed a fairly easy read.

Tanya's Career Path

Seventeen year old Tanya Meadows had read her last book. Throughout the pandemic restrictions she had tried to get books from the library and was successful for the most part until winter set in. Winter on the Island was not like East coast winters where her cousins lived. Apparently, those winters were horrible; great mounds of wet snow, winds that whipped off the Atlantic Ocean that kept everyone indoors even before the pandemic. Here, it was just rain. There had been white Christmas’ most years, but they only lasted for a few days. She was not sure she cared for snow. Tanya had been in some good snow ball fights. One year when the snow lasted longer she had seen some beautiful snow sculptures in the park across from her school. Isolated from her friends, Tanya couldn’t even babysit because she was not in the right bubbles as recommended by Public Health. She especially missed the Richardson children, Ben and Abby. Mrs. Richardson worked from home most days. Her mother did the child care when she had to work at the school. Looking after the Richardson children was a favourite for Tanya. But stewing over it wasn’t making her feel any better.

She closed the cover of Mystery at the Blue Lagoon and sighed. What was she to do now? Her chores were all done. Her homework was all caught up. It was raining and cold. It was supposed to rain heavily all day. The library was closed through the Christmas holidays, so she couldn’t get any new books. She was going stir crazy. The letter. She had an email from Martha out at the Beaufort Estate asking if she would write something about her life for the Storyteller. She had almost deleted the email, not sure she had anything to contribute. That’s what she could do. Picking up her stack of books, she put them on her mother’s old credenza in the hallway. She ran lightly up the stairs to her room. Clearing off her desk except for one of her notebooks, she selected one of her favourite coloured pens - mauve. It always made her smile.

~~~~~

Hello, Miss Storyteller. We have never met but I’ve heard so much about you from Mrs. Haverstock-Digby. I understand that even her grandchildren Ben and Abby Richardson have written their little stories. They are my favourite children to babysit. (Don’t tell Ben I used the ‘baby’ word - he does get quite offended.) I think they are really my only connection to the Beaufort Estate. I think I’ve been the Richardson babysitter since Abby was born, so that would be about five years. Mrs. Richardson was on maternity leave for quite a while, so didn’t have to return to work right away. Mr. Richardson had not yet taken the job off island. About twice a week, Mrs.Richardson needed some help with housework so I would go out after school for two hours. Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Richardson would have a date night every two weeks. They planned it for evenings when I was there anyway, so I would give the children their supper and get them to bed. Mr. Richardson gave me a ride home when they returned from their outing. Looking after them really has given me some ideas about what I want to do with my life. I’ve always wanted to be a teacher, but didn’t know what grades I would like to teach. I couldn’t see myself teaching high school. Too close to my own age. But working with Ben, Abby and all the other children I had worked with suggested an elementary school grade. Oh, I just about forgot. I also looked after Mr. Thornton’s four boys occasionally. Mr. Thornton is the Beaufort chauffeur. Those children are a bit old but still in the elementary school ages. My experiences with them all has been so enlightening. Children are so creative and love to learn. Sometimes in very interesting ways. Like the sign that Ben and I made for Mrs. Richardson’s mother. At the time, Mrs. Richardson lived in the other side of the duplex that her mother owned. The sign was on the gate between the two yards. The children were running back and forth to visit with their grandmother without any warning or permission. In short, the sign was teaching about the need of privacy for their grandmother, as well good manners. Asking permission was the other part of the lesson. The children’s mother still lives there, but Mrs. Haverstock-Digby, has married Mr. Digby the butler. They moved to their own cottage. When the new person moved in, we had to modify the sign - lesson number two. I enjoy listening to the children, their suggestions and their solutions. I suppose that is how they have helped me to outline my career path. I do hope that doesn’t sound too odd. During the pandemic restrictions, I do miss the children. A whole classroom of children? I do hope I can manage that but that is my objective. To be honest, I really was searching for something interesting to fill some time. This turned out to be more interesting than I expected/

Thank you for this opportunity.

~~~~~

Tanya read over her essay. She wasn’t sure what kind of mark she’d get for it. She had never been very good at essay writing. “I’ll take this over to the Estate tomorrow - that’s if it stops raining - but at least I won't be tromping through snow.” She slipped the folded page into an envelope and propped it up against her bust of William Shakespeare. Just then her mother called out that supper was ready. “Be right there mom!”

“The discipline of writing something down 

is the first step toward making it happen.”

~ Lee Iacocca

Friday's Writing Group - Two Stories

Author - Julie Adamson
ISBN:  978-0-47350542-4

Effervescence is always boldly present when the writing group I belong to meets. Yesterday afternoon, in my home, we regaled each other with writing news and stories. An added bonus came to us all the way from Wellington, New Zealand! Julie Adamson, a past member of our group, returned to her home and family a number of years ago. We have have missed her gentle laugh and wonderful poetry in our group. She has met, very successfully with the challenges of Haiku and has published two children’s books. Yesterday, we each purchased signed copies of her beautiful second book ~ Hannah and the Fire Chief. Both of her books were inspired by her grandchildren. That along with a lovely, delicious chocolate bar (Fijian Ginger and Kerikeri Mandarin in Dark Chocolate) straight from New Zealand! Thanks so much Julie!!

Now, on to our self assigned topic for this month. This was again, fun and we all shared our such varied pieces! Every one elicits laughter. Our topic phrase: It was not a dark and stormy night. I had recalled a piece I had written a number of years ago for this same group, but in this case it was the usual phrase: ‘It was a dark and stormy night.’ That piece was an actual experience that I had in 1988 when I traveled to Texas to work. So, for yesterday, I did a similar piece but fanciful, shorter and almost reminiscent of a movie! I am including them both in this post:

A Night to Remember

It was a dark and stormy night.  A sentence far too cliched, over used and makes me think of Charley Brown rather than a night to remember.  However, it definitely was a night to remember.

39, confident and driving a brand new Dodge colt, I was scouting the territory of my new employer. Hired over the phone in April at St. Mary of the Plains Hospital in Lubbock, Texas, I wanted to see where I would be working in October that same year. In May, I drove from Regina, Saskatchewan to Grand Junction, Colorado before going on to Lubbock, Texas.

  

The day started out clear, sunny and calm, and I set off early for the 740 mi (1200 Km) trip.  A long drive through unfamiliar country, I had mountains to climb beginning in far southern Colorado.  As I came down from Raton, New Mexico, on the east side of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains into the Llano Estacado that extends from south eastern New Mexico into north west Texas, fat clouds were beginning to form on the horizon.  Not problem. I stopped for breaks often.  However they gathered over me much more quickly that I anticipated.

Then it started to rain - big fat drops flattened onto my new windshield, trees in the gentling descending plains were starting to bend in a fairly heavy wind.  No matter.  I was now only about 2 or 3 hours out of Lubbock according to my directions.  The highway was broad and flat, with no traffic.

The clouds came in faster.  The night grew darker.  The wind grew stronger. The night should not have been upon me yet, but it had arrived fiercely - a not so gentle reminder that I shouldn’t ‘mess with Texas.”   My dad did teach me, that in a storm, get off the road and get shelter till the storm passes.  Where to go?  This was an Interstate highway! Divided.  The highway sign for Happy, Texas welcomed me so I pulled off the interstate, drove down the main street  - of a closed up town.  Rolled up. Quiet. Dark.

Back on a highway, which now had a 1/2 inch of water on the pavement and a wind that rocked my car threatening to push me off into the Texas plain, I was truly frightened.

I don’t remember tears stinging my eyes, but I do remember my fierce determination to get to Lubbock, Tx and safety.  I prayed like I have never prayed before or since and just kept driving.  I did arrive safely in Lubbock, had a good nights sleep and awoke to beautiful sunny day and a very wet city on the Texas plain.  

Did I mention that this was 1988 before cell phones and oh, yes, I had no radio in my brand new car! 

"Determination gives you the resolve to keep going 

in spite of the roadblocks that lay before you."

~ Denis Waitley

Life Changing

It was definitely not a dark and stormy night. As a matter of fact, the sun shone brilliantly, lighting up the Texas plains that welcomed me on my adventure. Passing herds of Texas long horns grazing in the mesquite on one side of the road and a little further, small herds of buffalo shaded under the few trees they could find, were treats I hadn’t expected. I drove a brand new sleek emerald green 1988 Jaguar with soft tan leather seats. The convertible top was down and the wind tousled my hair. I had the radio playing Willie Nelson’s On the Road Again. His Texas drawl, the perfect accompaniment to a new and exciting world. Never had I been this far from my prairie home in Saskatchewan, but I had decided to strike out on my own. Learn new ways, meet new people and best of all make my own rules. My parents had put money in my bank account, some in my pocket and all the advice in the world. Don’t drive past five o’clock and make sure you stop for meals oh and stop every two hours - that was my mom.  Make sure you get maps whenever you stop and.. I know you love that car, but get out and stretch your legs.- that was my dad. There was the old standard - call us when you get there or if you need anything - that was both of them in harmony. I hugged them both and told them to stop worrying, assuring them that I would call them just as they asked. Texas Tech University had accepted me into their journalism program. Despite my excitement I was a little scared. This being a big girl and my own adult was kind of scary. Those two feelings mixed and wavered inside my gut. (mom didn’t like me using that word). Then I saw Lubbock, Texas. Buddy Holly’s home town! Lubbock, on the skyline, was not a city of tall buildings! A kind of rumpled looking collection of houses and stumpy office buildings. That was a bit concerning. I drove on anyway. I turned right on the exit to Texas Tech University. When I drove toward the campus, I breathed a sigh of relief. Beautiful red brick buildings with Spanish tiled roofs greeted me. Sighting a telephone booth, I pulled over and called my parents, gushing about everything I had seen. The sun was almost down, the wide azure sky filling with golds, peach, and deeper purple. It felt like home. A Motel 6 sign down the street winked on in the waning light, a family restaurant was just beside it. I had supper at the restaurant and stayed at the Motel 6 that night. Morning would be time to open the next chapter in my adventure.

“But now he was dreaming, he was wildly imagining things”

~ Iris Murdoch,  The Green Knight

Bouquets

Dark curly hair topped his sweet face. ’Bye’! From the stroller navigated by his mom, he waved and smiled to the bus driver…. 

Canadians are often said to be polite and today, one little Canadian proved that some of us start young! Alighting at a signalled bus stop, most of us, men, women, teens, children ~ grumpy or cheerful ~ do say thank you or offer a ‘have a good day’.

Bus drivers are paid and have good union support. Why should we say thank you to someone for doing their job? Because, in their chosen career, they do for us what we cannot do or choose not to do. We get to our destinations safely despite the traffic of the day. Walkers, bicycles, strollers. Suitcases, shopping trolleys, umbrellas, bicycles, groceries, plants. Winter or summer. Dripping wet with rain or snow filled boots.

Do these men and women that take us hither and yon get tired, by the end of a long shift, of replying pleasantly to each and every one? It is a wonder. Today, the broad smile on the face of this morning’s bus driver told me that special ‘Bye!' was a highlight for his day.

“Everyone appreciates being appreciated”

~ Lance Greenfield