My readers know how I feel about March, which has now left us. This month brings with it, year after year, memories of losing my husband Van from a stroke while we were away on vacation from our home in Idaho, just after visiting many family and friends.
It was wonderful seeing all of those we love, and if I think of any of the blessings of that terrible day it’s that Van got to see many friends and they to visit with him.
That was long ago in 1984. Since then, so much has happened to loved ones and to this old lady. I was thinking about not just the loss as I always do this time of year but of the good things that have happened.
I celebrated my son Doug’s recovery from a near fatal illness. It took many prayers and good doctors in Reno to change my mind about March. However, I don’t know where you live, but I think that the most important thing about your local isn’t what a nice homestead you have. It’s not just the view, nor access to stores, etc. It’s your neighbors. Count yourself lucky if you have neighbors like ours.
Doug went to hell and back with his illness. He’s still in recovery. Just imagine you’re being extremely ill in October, having doctors for weeks giving you pain pills for a sore knee and nobody diagnosing what was really wrong. Finally, somebody did the right tests and discovered you’re dieing from severe blood poisoning. This old lady has been down this path with him every inch of the road.
It hasn’t been easy or pretty. Forgive me if I sound ungrateful, you have no idea just how unbelievably grateful I am. I thank God every single minute of every single day for Doug’s miracle. Now the borrowed wheelchair is out in the garage waiting to be picked up, the walkers are leaning against a closet door, and the nurse and physical therapist are no longer visiting. There are two canes we use when needed.
Above all else we have the best neighbors in the entire county helping us every day. Perhaps it sounds silly that we have a problem with, of all things, a garbage container, but if you live in the county and your house is set back on an acre that trip from house to roadside can look like 10 miles. Our neighbor’s young son, his mom or dad made sure that from November until now it was taken out and brought back each week.
But there’s more. Not too long ago, when our closest neighbor found out Doug was home, she brought over an entire dinner right down to bread and dessert. Then, from across the street, came another neighbor carrying a couple dozen fresh eggs. Ever eat a really fresh egg poached and set on top of a buttered piece of toast? Nothing better, friends, nothing that enjoyable early in the morning.
Please indulge me as I change subjects. A close friend called to say that I just had to watch the Bill O’Reilly and Waters World programs that were on TV that evening. It had to do with people on the street being asked questions about what they thought they owed the government, or visa versa. I cringed. I almost got physically ill when I listened to those idiots on television who don’t have a clue
They appeared to have had no idea what life is all about or what it means to be an American like my good neighbors who obviously do. One young woman didn’t even know the name of our president; others looked at pictures of the vice president, Joe Biden, and didn’t know who he was. Some thought he might be some kind of rock star. I won’t comment on that, thank you.
Most of all I turn purple at the young people — most who admit to living with their parents, or having somebody else paying for their upkeep and their college education — and saying they don’t owe the government or the military anything. That’s enough. I’m now going to find a way to do something nice for the fine American neighbors that Doug and I are fortunate and blessed enough to have living close by.
Doug recently told me, “How lucky can you get with people living near you who care that when you have a problem they do all they can to help, without even being asked?”
Edna Van Leuven is a Churchill County writer and may be reached at news@lahontanvalleynews.com