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On the road again:
Greetings from Rockport, Texas, 30 miles northeast of Corpus Christi, close to the Gulf of Mexico, on a part of the nation known here as the Texas Coastal Bend.
Today’s Story ...
… is a potpourri of personal updates and holiday philosophy.
Cyndy’s health continues to improve from her bout with necrotizing pancreatitis. She is getting stronger and eating better, including foods that her system would previously not tolerate.
I’m working on a series of eBooks about my travels and adventures over the past 40 years.
These are a compilation of previously published articles, essays, and blogs. It’s fun to revisit those earlier endeavors, prepare them for you to read, and realize, once again, that I am rich with experiences.
Last Tuesday, Cyndy and I arrived in our new location: Wilderness Oaks RV Park, a pleasant place in a grove of coastal live oak trees, with friendly people and nice amenities.
We intend to explore the barrier islands and nearby nature preserve, which is the winter home of migratory whooping cranes, a species that is coming back from near extinction.
Historical and commercial attractions include the USS Lexington Aircraft Carrier Museum.
Student pilots at a nearby naval air station use single-engine prop planes to practice touch-and-gos at a county airport immediately next to Wilderness Oaks. Our neighbors say, “You’ll get used to the noise.” We are glad they don’t use jets.
The management here says that no resident has Covid, but we see many people not wearing masks. All of our conversations so far have been outside and socially distanced. We wear masks and will continue to be careful.
I now know four people who have contracted Covid: a couple in Kalamazoo and a high school classmate and his wife; he has died from the disease. Cyndy knows two others. For us, that makes Covid personal.
While traveling to here from our previous location in Green Valley, Arizona, we stayed off the interstates as much as possible.
Our route included State Highway 9 in New Mexico. This took us within sight of the Southern Border Wall. It’s ugly … in design and in concept.
The wall reminds me of a longtime friend who believes the world would be a much better place without man-contrived borders, immigration quotas, customs and checkpoints, and the resulting nationalism.
I agree. Without borders, we wouldn’t have immigrant families torn apart at the “line” that separates the US from Mexico. Hell, the world wouldn’t even have—or need—the word “immigrant.”
Joseph and Mary were dark-skinned immigrants. At least the innkeeper provided them with a stabile. What would be the fate of the Holy Family if they were trying to cross a border into the US today?
Maybe Biden or Harris or some humanitarian president in the future will tear that wall down.
“Imagine there’s no countries … Nothing to kill or die for. … And the world will be as one.” —John Lennon
The Kalamazoo Bach Festival Society has prepared a great virtual concert of Christmas music: classic hymns, traditional carols, and modern numbers along with messages that reflect our current times for universal inclusion of all people.
Click here to order tickets.
Recently, Cyndy and I listened to the book The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, that we highly recommend.
Henrietta Lacks was an African American woman who died of cervical cancer and complications at age 31 in 1951. As was typical medical practice then, a physician “harvested” some of her malignant cells without her knowledge or consent.
Unlike most cells that die quickly in culture, Henrietta’s not only lived but they multiplied rapidly.
Known as “HeLa” cells (the first two letters in her names) have been sold and studied so many times that scientists and researchers around the world have used them to develop vaccines for polio, AIDS, and other diseases.
But Henrietta’s family knew nothing of her cells still being alive until many years after her death. When they found out, they were ill-informed and angry.
This is a true story of a family's search for truth in a world where some people—in this case, doctors and medical researchers—take advantage of the poor and unfortunate.
During this holiday season, it’s important to remember the “simple gifts” that mean so much.
For us recently, that reminder came from a friend who has the knack of gift-giving down pat.
Her name is Karen. Cyndy and I met her in Green Valley when playing pickleball early this past summer.
Karen is an extraordinary nurse with a vast set of skills and experiences that range from neonatal to prisons to hospice, from hospitals to in-home care.
She was instrumental in helping me help Cyndy with her medical condition from late June through August.
When we said goodbye to Karen last week, she told us of a patient: an adult with muscular dystrophy.
Karen had asked him, “What are you most thankful for?” With a tear in her eye, she told us she was not prepared for his reply: “Having someone brush my teeth.”
Cyndy also has her list of “simple things” for which she is now more aware and thankful: the taste of a dab of creamy butter on a slice of toast, being able to climb stairs, and driving.
I’m grateful that she is preparing meals again. There were many weeks during her illness when she could not.
Signs of her recovery then were the times when she, with difficulty and determination, chopped a few veggies and carried plates to the table.
In the spirit of the holidays, we wish for you the gifts affirmed in the stories and songs of the season: “Peace on Earth and goodwill to all.”
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Thank you for reading my stories.
Thank you for caring.
God blesses everyone ... no exceptions.
Robert (Bob) Weir
