Walsingham Farm Shop: Praise the Pie

Not just pie, but locally sourced pie! Well done, Peterman.

Thanks for missing me, Stoney. I just went walkabout for a day or two.

Been reading books about stopping reading books and taking my life to the sea and staying there. Some days I am more tempted than other days.

And yet I do like the fact about a house that it's very difficult to define and produce a set of circumstances in which it's not still a house. A boat, on the other hand, can do a great many things in which it utterly stops being a boat. Maybe it becomes a large, sinking object with no buoyancy whatsoever. Maybe it becomes part of a large, mid-ocean coral reef. Perhaps it spontaneously, on a glorious beam reach, merges with a shipping container and becomes one with the floating fifty ton box of rubber dog shit out of Taipei. NOT OPTIMAL with the wee ones on board.

I'm gonna find THAT BOAT. You know the one I mean. It's the one that you see, and four years later, when you've come out of your fugue, you're standing at the aft rail watching your children frolic in azure water off a brilliantine strand of pure white coral sands (the kind of sands that pass through the anus of a Parrotfish, incidentally, before being deposited in the form that we call "beach").

But I do worry. That niggly little worry that says "maybe I should be an accountant".

When I get those worries lately, I crawl into bed with the comforter over my ears, and I put myself to sleep by listening to Viktor Frankl's "Man's Search for Ultimate Meaning". I'll fall asleep, but the book will keep playing into my sleeping ears. I know it's all in there now, floating amongst the kelp fronds of my lower brain functions, trying to find a place to anchor and then grow towards the surface. Internal landscapes of cerebral storm clouds, illuminated by random flashes of initiative, reaction, tidal surges of fear, hunger, and aspiration.

Now that's a grocery store!

This reminded me that I really am not set up for city life.

There is something about farm fresh, free-range eggs, about veggies cooked within hours of being picked, strawberry jam made in summer and enjoyed in winter . . . eating what is local, in season, cooked in a kitchen that has never seen a microwave that just makes the food taste better.

I just wish there were some way to get that sort of food around here.  Other than farmers markets, everything is so plasticized, pasteurized, preserved, shrink-wrapped, salted, dyed, . . . it's hardly even food anymore!

Rich stuff here: http://www.cooksnotebook.com/shows.php   -Try "Taioba & Jilo debut at the 147th Martha's Vineyard Ag Fair".  Local means more than you ever imagined.  (I hope I got the link typed in correctly.  Otherwise, search for "Ali Berlow" or "Cooks Notebook".)

A commited return to a respectfully, intelligently operated Feudal System, seems the only way to survive well the current Global Economic crisis ... with serious emphasis and considered focus on the tenets of, Community ... The Farm Shop looks like a pretty good start, that has been working, since before the debacle began ...   Surely, the concept is different from what most of us are used to, but that doesn't mean it not right, or a Good Idea ... And perhaps one wouldn't be able to see  from the arrested Merry-Go-Round, all the glitz and pizazz we have become accustomed to ... but at least a Future could be seen, and not simply and desperately hoped for ...  By nature, I resist change ... especially when it is change just for the sake of change ... but changing BACK, to an intelligent, respectful and fairer approach to survival and every day life, is not so hard to take ... But then, I still drive Flatheads, even tho' none of them has brass Rings .......

A very cool thing about Norfolk is that it's not between any 'important places'... It just sits there, jutting out into the North Sea, not doing anything particularly useful and not having any overwhelmingly significant economic importance.... It's not close to London and it's not particularly easy to get to.  And you don't 'drive through' on your way to some other destination.

It's nice to have places like that...  

Norfolk? It's its own important place- just look at their jackets.

I'm with you, Jalopkin, but please no Lucas electricals. 

Anybody tried looking for real estate in the Norfolk, UK area? The Remax/UK site is useless.

I see Mr. P was up early this morning picking the Honor Roll.  Like yesterdays pick today's is a mighty fine pick as well.

Kudos Mr. P

I'm off to work on the farm myself.  Eveyone have a great weekend, be safe, stay warm and write good stuff for me to read when I come in from the cold to warm up with a cup o'hot cocoa.

I was planning on offering the new Major League Baseball cable network as irrefutable proof of the existence of God but the hero on the Hudson has surged ahead. If that had been a movie, we might have scoffed: "Yeah, sure."

Just think about what happened there... Are you done? Are you smiling? If not, please go back and do it again. Jason Mraz sings: "Listen to the music of the moment..."
The music of that moment is a magic symphony. Why, it may be epic.

The lamb and red currant sausage from the Walsingham Farm Store has been added to a must see, hear, feel and taste list built around a not so imaginary tour of English vesper choir services that is in the works.

Cynthia,

I'm with you on the Honor Roll selections. It must have been fun.

WT

The Norfolk jacket is great right up until there is spread around the equator. Then, not so good.

Today, I wish to invoke the power of positive thought to assist in trouncing Olivia's wretched migraine, rings90's unfortunate job loss dejection, MACKDADDY1's melancholy, and all the other evilness lurking amongst the good people of the Eye - if only that's all it would take to put things right. (I don't think it can't hurt)

Stoney - Thank you for looking for me yesterday. Sometimes life demands things of a person that temporarily keeps them from where they'd like to be and the people they'd like to be with...

Eve - Oh dear. I must apologize to you, and everyone else, for giving you the impression that I wrote the poem in the topic about Homer. It was a passage from a translation of the epic poem of King Gesar, which I had been referring to in my earlier post. I thought it beautiful and apropos. I just assumed that everyone would know where it came from and that I couldn't possibly write something that perfect. Please forgive me for not being clear. I will be exceptionally careful not to make the same mistake again. You write beautifully and I hope you will share your poem with all of us soon.

Oh Kindlee,

being the person you are, you are hereby excused from ever, ever needing to apologizie to any of us here at the eye.  Your good thoughts, actions and intentions are known to us all and shall be made known to all who enter this neighborhood.

Now that's what I call assumed authority. Since I'm on a roll.....

Olivia, I command your migrain to excile itself from your presence or it shall incur the merciless, yet justified wrath of the "EyE".  

Jonathan,

Great post to start the day!  I insist!

Stoney,The Major League Baseball cable network is irrefutable proof of the existence of God, for it is what enabled to pilot to accomplish such a great deed!

Every last one of you!!!!.... enjoy the weekend

The man behind the curtain has spoken! He will be back later to take requests.

p.s. I have not read anything about today's subject matter so this is merely a drive-by posting.

Oh Peter Lake,

You are always good for one's spirit.

OK..... I want to know who snuck an unneccessary "c" in the word exile in my previous post???  Not funny!

Kindlee,

Right back atcha.

Thank you, Olivia, DPR, and Stoney for understanding about Daddy's death; like you, O, I was made to feel there was something wrong in my hanging back from that coffin. I'm less alone for having revealed it.

Mr. P, you were up late and early naming Honor Role fortunates, with which I wholeheartedly agree. Immediately upon reading your essay today, I added its subject to 'Where do you want to go?'

Mouth watering, I read of the Farm Shop, of Norfolk, wish I might shop it this day, and am reminded that the 'green movement' is happening even in my part of the country, usually slow to cotton to the new; often it seems things start in California, hop without passing GO to New York, then dribble, in languid littles, down to us.  We've long had a Farmers' Market, but this is different, exciting: Eating locally-grown fresh produce appeals, and would seem to please not just taste-buds, but economy and waistline.  A friend has, as long as memory, kept a bountiful flower garden, and now she's added (and I've enjoyed) lettuce, herbs one-at-a-time, and peas, with plans for snap beans and corn, perhaps cabbage.  Related, if you think it right, she has long offered informal animal habitat by way of the grapevine animals have, so she now seeks  permission to officially welcome what's always wandered in.

Sitting in her glass-walled kitchen, we watch two 'possums, four squirrels, a fox, a rabbit, and odd cats and dogs other than hers stroll in, seemingly unaware of each other but knowing right where to go for food; she did her research, and her garden is arranged so herbs thrive where they'll deter undesirable nibbling.  She lives a few blocks away in a long-established neighborhood that hasn't been farm land for three centuries, but each visit reveals a new taste, and it IS new, very apart from foods that traveled half a world to my table.

Your Norfolk words give marvelous images, making me hungry. Like Stoney, I've added it to my list. Note to Stoney: Please add Evensong, which is among my favorite services, and though our Episcopal churches regularly do Evensong, no one bests English choirs, whose ability at chant is finely-honed; in England, choirs are evaluated not on how they sing, say, an anthem, but on how well they chant. So worth it, thence to Norfolk where we eat, visit shops, and wander, for it seems a wander-place.  Just reading about it sends me there in spirit. Makes me want to try recipes attached to the article our genila host provides. If I succeed, I'll report; maybe even if I fail.

Willie, I have,  think, the Norfolk jacket, if it's deep dark moss-green velvet with a collar stitched upright in a unique way...is that it?

To savvy tech man Matt: My computer has twice given me an enigmatic 'overload at stage 74' message today...I save The Eye daily but my computer has that capability, or should. Can't bear to delete it, for I'm uncertain how long you'll make available archival Eyes (love that sound: archival Eyes). If I will be able always to find things, please let me know so I nedn't save.  And just what would we do without you? Many many thanks.  Eve  

I have a must experience list for this part of England.

Southeast of Norfolk, about 15 miles South of Norwich, is Tibenham. During WWII, its airfield was home to the American Eighth Air Force 445th Bomb Group; of which my father was a part. Now, the field is owned by the Norfolk Gliding Club. I've always longed to experience soaring (flying a glider). To do so at Tibenham, while simultaneously commemorating my dad's service, is a dream I hope to fulfill someday.

And now, courtesy of today's topic, I have a superb place nearby to entice my sense of dining adventure, too.  

I only have one question to ask ~ How can people NOT like Pot Pie? The picture ont he board today & then reading the article makes me want to amke it for dinner tonight myself.

Flakey crust, hot steaming potatoes, chicken, peas, carrots in that sauce, YUMMY!

Kindlee ~ Thanks  - EVERYONE at the station seems to think Iw will land on my feet( somehow) and I know I will also. 

Olivia ~ get yourself a Lavendar filled eye mask. I swear it works MIRACLES on my Migraines, make sur eit has some weight to it though.

Mack Daddy ~ Chin Up  ~ Springs around the corner. I swear..   

Georgia,

I took a look at one such recipe "Chicken and Mushroom Pie". It sent me "googling" to learn that a "dsp" was a dessertspoon (the equivalent of 2 teaspoons), cornflour = cornstarch, and 5 kg of diced chicken meat = 11 lbs...which explains why an entire bottle of wine is needed for the boiling. The recipe says it serves 8...one pie per individual, I'm thinking. I have a good Chicken Pot Pie recipe, of my own, which only uses 3 lbs. of chicken and serves 5 or 6 people, but I usually make it in a large baking dish with a single crust over the top.

Never cared for Positive Ground,  WT ....... and Bosch makes better Bulbs .......

Amen, the house is clean, the cake is made and we have a half hour before the 15 year old girls descend on the house.  I may even get to shave and shower.  Step daughters 15th B day.  Will have to explore more when we get back from the Hibachi, sounds pretty interesting.

rings90 - Yes! Pot pie for dinner!!

Meat pies always make me think of Titus Andronicus. Stomach turning even now. Nice article, though. Names read like a Jane Austen novel. Woodhouse et al.

Happy weekend, all! Stuck at airport. Crazy storm.

Though set a few miles west of Walsingham (in the Fens!) those who have not enjoyed Dorothy Sayers' mystery 'The Nine Tailors' should jump on this 1934 novel... It so perfectly captures the ambience of the Fens!  [Spoiler alert: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Nine_Tailors ]

It led me on an online adventure as I explored the complexities and beauties of 'change ringing'...

Those who have wandered about East Anglia know the churches are a source of enchantment unmatched... and 'the ringing of the bells' is a fine art -- as fans of 'The Vicar of Dibley' might know.  (http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A2452015 )

Miss Ive, I'm sharply aware of you when I post on The Eye, and the instant my above words appeared in that eye-pleasing green (just for The Eye, you think? Are we that special?), typos jumped up.  Another's errors or typos send up red flags -- that makes me a decent editor -- while in my own work I read right over them, reading not what I see but what's in my head.

Knowing you, too, edit and write, I think of you when I commit typos and/or errors.  Inveterate reviser, I'd spend hours before hitting 'send' if I even began to edit. A first draft of fiction or poem I usually want on paper, with real pen or good pencil, for writing doesn'r feel real once it's released to The Machine. But there it must, eventually, go, and I CAN revise, polish there. First drafts pour uninhibited onto the page (if I stop to correct I'm in trouble).  The best part: Auditioning words, setting them aside in favor of others; changing a comma to a semi-colon; next day changing it back. Recasting sentences, playing with one word, then another, then another 'til finally it feels right. Though you know that tomorrow, or at midnight, you may wake with an epiphany about one word.  

Writing with deadlines requires discipline for people like me, inclined to keep polishing ad infinitum; I've never missed one. Which is the beauty of writing fiction, or any other that's for yourself yet may venture further, leisure to polish, polish, keep trying to make it better.  Familiar, any of this?  I appreciate your work: Organized, succinct, well-expressed.

Eve

Oh, yippee... I found a webpage loaded with the sounds of change ringings!  It would be so very fine to read 'The Nine Tailors' with these sounds playing!

http://www.inspirewebdesign.com/home/mpaw/soundindex.asp

For those with a penchant for the 'math in the music':   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Change_ringing

ANY kind of Pot Pie is good, only if it is Home Made and not one of those Wet-Cardboard tasting comercially prepared crappin' things from the Frozen Food section of the Grocery Store ... Those things are simply awful, and there is not a damned thing that can be done to make them acceptibly tasty ....... A friend in Coventry has a cook who makes them from scratch, and serves individual sized Pies to each person in it's own little Iron Skillet ... Not only is it a marvelous suppertime Treat, a good Claret included, but the visual affect warms the ambience satisfyingly well ... and good nachas usually leads everyone at the table to overindulge and overimbibe ....... But never with any regrets ... One of the best Pot Pies I ever had was in a tiny Hostel in Budapest ... the Meat in the Pie was roasted grand chunks of Bulgarian Salami, and the Onions were a sweet complement ...It was there I came to love a robust Red called, Egri Bikavar ....... The meals have been duplicated many times since, but the moment, never .......

Titus Andronicus...now there's a gory play. I try to avoid mixing my food with tragedies. Hope you are unstuck soon, MissIve. 

How did I miss Olivia's migraine? Off with thee, evil spirit, and let not thy beastly self return to Olivia-of-the-Eye, lest The Community attack in full force.  Be better, O.  Eve 

ah, MissIve and Kindlee!  I have contended for some time that were teachers really intent on interesting their students in Shakespeare, they'd introduce them to Titus Andronicus...

Problems: (a) School board, (b) administration, and (c) furious parents.... Oh, well....

"the only barrier that stands in the way of chicken pot pie being the penultimate comfort food is that it ought to be served atop a bed of garliv smashed taters and/or thick egg noodles along with piping hot dinner roles drenched in butter to mop out the bowl" says Peter Lake as he wipes the drool from his chin with his sleeve.

Stoney, I have so much eqyatorial spread, I can admore the Norfolk jackets only from beyond the hporizon.

Eve-Georgia, a Norfolk jacket is a man's blazer, usually with a belt and possibly some vertical detailing. Very English, Very JP .  I am sure your own jacket is quite fetching, though.

Just came in from the barn, cold but good to be working with the critters.

Pot pie - yum! My father had a great recipe and yes JALOPKIN only if they are homemade.

A pox on airport delays, migraines, inconvenience and typos.

Back to the salt mines for me, Blessings all.

Thank you all for your good karma, especially Pam for being the sweetest friend anyone could imagine-better even than my imaginary one! I feel much better, and I give you, all of you, the credit. As I've said before, I love you every one, and treasure each word. How lucky we are to have one another!

I must be better, I posted a want ad for bricks on the previous day, my usual foolishness. That's when I knew I'd gotten the upper hand over the migraine demons...

Georgia, FWIW - I've always found that those "error on stack whatever" messages have more to do with the person posting to the webmail than to your machine - those messages appear regularly when I am trying to open up items on the NY Times emails, for example.  Just an idea -

Also, one good way to deal with those error messages is to look them up on Google - 

Eve!

Have only one second. Please read my comments in this post. Will put you at rest in this place. The green type is magical.

http://www.petermanseye.com/curiosities/notables-gossip/326-typo-vigilantes

Nobody minds typos.

And if you need more assurance, read over just one or two of my posts. Riddled with error. No red pens here.

You are dear.

Eve,

And thank you so much for your kind words.

Georgia,

Just the term: evensong...

And, Olivia? A migraine?! Very glad you are better.

Did somebody say I am succinct?

Let's see how many more I can post.

Night!

Pam, my old favorite chicken pot pie recipe is similar to yours but no wine.  The recipe just to the left of the essay today (SR, theater folk and John dear) sounds like yours but, as you say, with lots more wine, of which mine has none, just straight old-fashioned chicken pot pie. I tried to print the chicken-mushroom one there, only to find my printer had run out of ink. Still want it when I get a new cartridge; if you try it, please report as I want to.

Do people give each other their email addresses? In this instance, it makes sense, if I want you to send me a recipe and/or comment on the new one (which I hope to print but one never knows...). Never having been involved in any internet conversation, I don't know the protocol, or how to accomplish it; what's your experience?  All this reading, discussion, thinking, photography of pot pies makes me long for one. The addition of wine makes it a company meal, maybe. My 'regular' has piecrust top, as yours does. 

John, oh John!  You make anything read marvelously sensuous, even pot pie. I, too, love the feel, smell, taste of smashed 'taters; never met a noodle I didn't like, but the 'taters appeal more with pot pie, though I'd never thought to include them in mine. You've made a new woman of me; I'll do it. I'm rateful for your unique day-brighteners. oops: rateful, I wrote. Well, we'll do something with that somewhere along the way, just watch. Willie made fine use of my typo ratitude in his poem.

Doc Nolan, change-ringing fascinates me, too, and you needn't go to England to hear it.  Many churches and/or cities bring groups of change-ringers from England to teach local folk; closest to me is a church here that recently began, and, much older and excellent, several churches in Charleston SC, where we are often, as we've good friends there, members of a church where change-ringing is BIG, Grace Episcopal. The National Cathedral in D.C. has it, and countless churches I don't know about, but your sites will inform you. I love watching at Grace in Charleston: They, too, had ringers from England teach this group, which is so in demand they play at different churches different times and days. At Grace they're in a glass-walled building, and play as 11 am service concludes, so you stand outside and watch as you hear.  I'd love to do it, keep trying to persuade my husband we should retire to Charleston for many reasons, that included...such a marvelous city, and we've best friends of many years there.  Surely there's a special cachet to hearing it in an English church; my favorite English cathedrals-in-which-to-sing-services include Salisbury, York, Canterbury, others I'd have to look up this many years post-choir tour. Ely Cathedral's (Cambridge) Lady Chapel is among the world's best places to record music because of its excellent acoustics; English composer John Rutter uses it for his Cambridge Singers' recordings. Swears by it;Cambridge University's Kings College Chapel is right there with its charms and wonderful history of Lessons and Carols, but John says Ely's it for recording. Oh, forgive me: You struck a good nerve, and I did go on. Good luck with your change-ringing search. Watching, I think it requires considerable strength, though men and women of different ages do it.  Probably another thing that began with men and boys, later included women. Singing services in ancient cathedrals, I could not but be moved by the knowledge that for many many centuries, men and boys stood in precisely my spot in choir stalls, singing that service on that (liturgical) day, trying to read music by one candle beside each singer's space in the stalls.  Gave wonderful chills, hit hard and well my sense of history. 

Cud'n Willie, thank you, and yes, I do know what a Norfolk jacket is, now you describe it in yur always-thorough way; how I translated THAT Norfolk jacket into a velvet JP one I love, not Norfolk at all, I'll never know.  He calls mine (a woman's) "Edinburgh"; I call it beautiful.  And love it. (My mother and aunts always said 'Cud'n,' never cousin, especially of older cousins. Did yours? And there's a Tradd Street in Charleston, BTW; it seems a 'grand old name' thereabouts; think I recall your having a connection or a friend with one....

Dear Olivia, rest well, keep the light low, don't let anyone rattle newspaper (I used to have migraines too), and take meds if you have them, just no alcohol with it (so mine was) 

All, regarding bricks, I read all your words, wrote my own, and neer mentioned that among my city's major and very old companies is a worldwide-known brickmaking one, Merry Brothers. 

Sleep warm, all, especially you Lake Men, Eve    

Eve, some of us have swapped emails here before. I've posted mine a couple of times, with wonderful results. Also my full name, home address, and I suppose if I put my Social Security number here, that'd be safe too. Anyroad, here it is again:

oyeringsl@comcast.net

Just don't post it on the men's bathroom wall. Wait, um...nahhhh...

Eve -

I'd love to trade recipes or whatever anytime. My email address is: gadgetcat1@comcast.net

Pam

As a decsendant of a family of farmers and grocers from Kent I can appreciate todays post.  We have the Hinge Farm still going in Kent under the auspices of my distant cousin John, who I only know from an afternoon of drinking a number of years ago coinciding with my grandmother's funeral.  His father and mine became close friends on one of my dads trips to GB to visit his cousin Pauline and her husband Dennis.  John was over studying american farms and dropped in at an inopportune time for the family.  My dad and his dad ended up going to some formal affair in London in tuxes with the queen mother.

Georgia, I have read with feeling about your fathers death as I face my father's, much older and much less painful.  Pop was taken to the hospital a year ago with pneunonia and has been in and out of hospitals and rehab nursing since.  It is a wonderful cycle I share with friends my age, home, hospital, rehab, hospital, rehab, home.   In the year we have seen him lose his sight and his ability to walk.  He has returned home with Hospice care on thursday.  He is officially diagnosed with congestive heart failure, but any number of things could take him.  I want very much for him to live, I want very much for him to be out of his pain.  Death isnt something we understand.  It is complicated by my mothers increasing dementia and inability to take care of him.

But back to todays post, proposing PE sends a group over for the Battle of the Bangers next year.  I will make a jaunt over to Kent to see the Hinge Farms and I am sure we can all be occupied in London.  Something to look forward to.

O, unhinged, I am sorry; so sorry about your father, and hope for him a good death soon.  Yes, it is a mystery.... Your mother needs wishes, too, which I send; her condition is another mystery; have you read Kate Chopin's (I think) story, "The Jilting of Granny Weatherall"?  Though written well before we used "dementia" and "Alzheimer's," it addresses those stuations.  A moving story that may be too much for you right this minute...read it sometime, though; it will mean more to you than to one who's not lived your now-situation.

From a novel by my friend John Dufresne: "Not just in time, but place. That's where death waits...." Odd, I quoted that a few days ago; it suited then, and does, I think, now.

Pam, of what you and the Community say about punctuation and our hateables (if I coin it I get to spell it, right?): YES. In spades. Thanks for your address; mine is mollybloom@bellsouth.net. I guessed dessertspoons, but because I've managed not to memorize the metric system I don't know it and was not looking forward to searching it out in the back of a cookbook, but you spared me, saying 5kg of chicken is eleven pounds. I'm immensely grateful. A BOTtle of wine, thought I...but you simmer it an hour and a half, so that sauce reduces considerably. I hope I understand instructions about the "cases" of both kinds of pastry; am uncertain what they mean by "shortcut pastry"; perhaps "shortcut" simply because it's not puff, which is more complex. You think? Much ado about something that may generate much ado if it works as we hope.  Guessed "cornflour" is cornstarch but appreciate your confirmation. Wine and interesting mix of pastries make it more regal than my in-a-13-by-9 Pyrex basic with regular piecrust top. Didn't you comment *recently about ATms and peole's calling them ATM machines? That annoys, too. This is a good time to admit I've never used one, prefer face-to-face with a human, given the way our human contacts grow ever fewer. One second out: Always I must retype "er-" words, since inevitably I transpose the beginning "e" and "r" so you'd have gotten *ercently.  With which our group could do something, I know: We are intrepid, aren't we?

Olivia, thanks for your address; mine is mollybloom@bellsouth.net. No surprise that, for you.  Migraine I hope is enroute out...ried to use John's enrourage some way but late it's getting on this day of funerals. And oh look, now we have :ried," courtesy again of me. I must get in bed. Any recipe involving mushrooms and a whole bottle of wine can't be all bad; if it's good and you want it I'll send when I buy new cartridges: I copied recipe by hand.  Be well-er, dear.  Eve    

Unhinged,
Your father is following the path my father took four times. Each fall for the past four years my father would get pneumonia, go to the hospital where after his second time there they found he had congestive heart failure which he had two more times. He would always go on to rehab from the hospital and then home healthcare. He was diagnosed with COPD two years ago when he was 84. Soon after his first bout with pneumonia/congestive heart failure he was also diagnosed with Dementia which was controlled very well with medication. Before all this he was extraordinarily active. He would walk the mountains for miles and miles collecting plants and marking trails. This past August he fell and broke his hip, we were told because of the COPD he would never survive the surgery. He survived and was recovering from the hip surgery nicely. He went through rehab and was home. I went to see my father on a Friday September 19th, told him I love him, kissed him, and said that I would be back on Monday as I live four hours from my parents. I was back Sunday, this time when I told him I loved him, kissed him with tears falling on his face he wasn't there to feel it anymore. It was just his time.

A few years before my father died, at a family dinner he waited after the meal when it was just me, my sister, Norma and my sister-in-law Robin. Everyone else had left in the room. Daddy began; "When I die I..." With that my sister and sister-in-law jumped up stating he should not think about it, he wasn't going anytime soon as they both rushed from the room. I stayed in the room and asked him what he wanted me to do. He told me, not just then, but started what would become our daily ritual of call me to talk about his death and the arrangements to follow. I listened and took notes. Being the baby of the family by fourteen years is not easy. My older sisters and brother always look at me and see the ‘baby', the kid sister that needs to be taken care of. When my father died my one living sister did just as she did when our middle sister, Janis died from cancer 6 years ago, she - as we say in the south - fell out, could not cope. My brother is disabled, a Vietnam Vet - Green Beret he can't do much anymore so that left me. Having my notes in tow I did all the things my father had requested. My mother, 84, legally blind from macular degeneration, now heartbroken and in shock we move forward together. She and I talk constantly about how things should not be left un-done, un-said and un-lived. With that I have begun to read study and meditate on who I want to be. I had lost myself somewhere in all the commotion in running around for my family and work. I was all they needed me to be, but nothing for myself. I was starving and didn't even know it. My father left a great legacy, his last instructions to me, not so profound but none the less stirring were to live each moment as if they were my last and to let everyone important to me know they are important to me. To be true to myself, for being true to myself will cause me to be everything I will ever need to be for anyone else.

THank you, Cynthia, for your meaningful story (though directed to unhinged, I appreciate it too).  It almost seems my hurried harried mention, after two 'visit-and-view' events on Saturday, of Daddy's death made the hole in the dike that started things flowing.  One more good thing about The Community....  I often wonder if Mr. Peterman foresaw this, us, or if he now thinks, "I've created a monster!" I more expect he marvels along with us, and I hope he feels the warmth of our appreciation. Eve

Oh, Cynthia-thank you for that lovely and moving story. I had a good cry reading it, but you'll know if you read me much, I'm a bit tender-hearted (as we say in the South lol; although I don't fall out-I may be crying, but I'm still tough enough to get done what has to be done).

I too had a rethink of where I am and where and who I wanted to be after I lost my father, and then survived a potentially life-threatening illness. I had been and done for others for thirty years, most of my adult life, trying to make everything right for everyone else, and putting myself last. I found that no one was happy with that arrangement, especially me. I decided to be a little selfish, and a happier me makes sure at least ONE person is ok with things. I've found, though, that when I'm happy, my family and friends are happier with me, and to be around me, and life in general is a lot better.

You're so right about planning ahead for things that cause emotional turmoil. It's best to have the steps laid out, so we can go through the motions no matter how distraught we might be.

Thank you for saying it so eloquently. You're on my honour roll, for sure...