Our Vietnam Veterans of America chapter suffered a great loss this week. One of our most beloved members passed away only one week after we learned how sick she was.

Her name was Mary Lou Amole, and she was a Nurse in Vietnam. She returned home without realizing the level of service she gave her country. She did what most Vietnam Veterans did: went back to her life as a civilian and started a family.

Then the call came out for Chester County’s Vietnam Veterans to assemble as a chapter. Mary Lou and fellow Nurse, Kathy Shields wondered if they qualify. They pushed down their palpable fears and went to the assembly. Early in the meeting, the attendees each spoke about their service in Vietnam. Mary Lou spoke for the only two women in the room. She outlined their shared experiences; sat down and waited to hear the next sharing. Instead there was a thunderous round of applause from all the others. At that moment, she and Kathy understood how much their service meant to the legions of patients they nursed in very trying conditions.

Mary Lou and Kathy threw themselves into making this emerging organization a success. Kathy went right into leadership roles and held them for decades. Mary Lou’s contributions were less public. She took many assignments like mailing birthday cards. She also would volunteer for mostly every chapter project. The chapter ran smoothly in large part because of these two women.

One example of Mary Lou’s service was the chapter’s Adopt a Highway project. Only a handful of chapter members would turn up for the grunt work of picking up highway trash. Their numbers often included Mary Lou. During one outing, Mary Lou was struck by a car while crossing the road near a sharp bend. From her hospital bed, she formally announced her retirement from the Adopt A Highway project. Her humor made the subject easier for the rest to cope with.

During her recovery, Mary Lou received mail and presents from across the nation. The message were almost all the same. They were sorry to hear about her accident, get well and thank you for your service as a Nurse in Vietnam. She was overwhelmed by the outpour.

During the past few years, Mary Lou’s ongoing role was “big sister” to the chapter. She provided sage advice rooted in the history of the chapter.

Now VVA 436 will continue without Mary Lou, but the chapter will retain the memories of her and the lessons of her leadership. There will always be an empty seat when we gather now. We’ll hear her voice in our heads as we speak of chapter business. Her legacy to us will always be what she did for us all.

R.I.P., my old friend. Your time to contribute has ended, but your contributions roll on.

During my earliest days at Maxwell’s Hardware, bossman, Tommy Trego handed a truck key to me so I could make today’s lunch run. He said, “Here take the brown truck”.

After searching the parking lot for a brown truck, I returned and said, “What brown truck?”He took me outside and  pointed to his “brown truck.” He had improperly referred to a black and brushed gold truck as “brown”. I now understood his meaning and vowed to tuck this knowledge away for later translations.

This truck can be described as a rolling wreak where many operating functions like window cranks were missing or partially working. Rusted areas and dents from long past collisions pocked its every surface. I dubbed it “Trego and Son” after the junkyard truck from the TV sit-com, “Sanford and Son”. The thing ran well and responded nicely to a spiffy new seat cover.

I always selected this truck for business trips because I reasoned if I get into an accident I would incur minimal cost damages.

This past week, Tommy painted the brown truck in an olive drab satin color. It’s best be described as a new blanket on an old horse.

My question is for how long we will continue to call this truck “the brown truck”?

Rebuttal:

After reading this blog post, Tommy Trego asked me to add these salient points:

1. This truck is used by a bunch of people who care little how it looks as long as it is available for their use. The truck goes from one person to another on a continuing basis.  Blogger note: he’s right about this.
2. No matter how much abuse this truck gets it keeps on running.  Blogger’s note: good thing a skilled mechanic owns it. Oops: actually it is owned by Tommy’s wife, Mary
3. His description of the truck’s new color is dark duranodic.  Blogger note: I’ll allow this.

When two people become a couple, their families should meet. After several misfires, the Family Morris from Downingtown, PA met the Sterling Clan of Rochester, New York. It happened during Thanksgiving 2011.

It was a given my wife, Lyn and I would easily like this large, Irish family because we already love Beth’s partner, Julie Sterling. They came as advertised by their daughter. They were warm, friendly and great fun to hang out with.

Thanksgiving dinner was held at the oldest daughter, Eileen’s home because the eldest son, Dan’s suffered an ill timed flooded basement. The agenda switch was seamless. The house filled with all varieties of Sterlings: young and old; active and relaxed; quiet and loud. I did no nose count, but I’d guess there were about 35 of them with three Morrises.

We did what Americans do on Thanksgiving. Most men and some women sat around watching football with conversation wedged in between snaps. I learned a lot about all things Sterling during this time. The remaining Sterling women worked hard in the kitchen readying the grand bird and the trimmings.

Our pre-meal prayer of thanks was led by Sister Eileen Sterling. You know all large Irish or Italian families have at least one Nun or Priest to call on for these moments.

After dinner, we returned to the living room where cards were given to Sterlings with upcoming birthdays. Sister Eileen made out quite nicely which is how it should be.

We finished the last of the holiday wine while the same hard working women cleaned the kitchen and divided the leftovers. Grand-Pop Dick got to extract any remaining turkey meat from the carcass.

The Sterling family set a high standard for human warmth this day. Their shining moment this day was making new friends feel so comfortable inside their world.

It was a Very Sterling Thanksgiving.

Jim Fixx authored “The Complete Book of Running.” Imagine the pickle he found himself in after finishing his next book about running. I’ve spirited away *his introduction’s title since I find myself at the same crossroad.

My blog has been titled “Countdown to 11/29/11. This is the day I plan to retire”. Its original intention was to make the waiting more fun until I retired. What to do now that this date has arrived?

I’ve decided to rename the blog, “My Second Half.”.

I will continue to write and present the results to a critical world.  I will continue to have no noticeable theme linking them. I’ll continue to write just for the fun of writing.

Writing is an activity with no downside unless you fear crippling criticism or total rejection. The writer can always choose to not publish his work or in a moment of cleansing joy, just delete the worthless mess. No harm; no foul, and the writer is a step closer to being his/her best.

Sometimes the creation pleases the author. Writers hope their best offerings will please others in some large or small way.

With this laudable goal, I set myself to the coming tasks.

If you know a lot about Alzheimer’s, it’s probably not a good thing.

We caregivers have all heard the experts’ advice meant not just to inform but to also comfort. The information is on-point, but the comfort barely registers.

To realize our Moms & Dads are “disappearing in plain sight”, only makes the pain seem unending and unavoidable. Experts educate us on the stages of decline and their benchmarks. Again, there is no comfort watching our parents present the expected symptoms. It’s as if we’re watching a documentary while struggling to stay detached.

It’s been about three weeks since Mom has eaten more than ice cream or pudding for lunch when I fed her. Her attendants are not reassuring about the other 20 meals she eats, or doesn’t eat, each week. Mom is listless, avoids focusing and is easily startled. Her only attempts at speaking are little bursts of half-words.

Sometimes during these situations it’s easy to ask about God’s purpose in keeping her here. We can repeat the PC answers provided by the experts. I suggest the real work for us is to ponder deeply about how we really think about the God question.

To me, my answer is simple. God is keeping my Mom alive to make us, her family, better people.

It is up to us to make the best of this gift from God.

This is usually said by Italians.

There are more Mascherinos in Downingtown, PA than in Italy. It has a lot to do with a change of spelling made by Ellis Island officials. Despite their smaller numbers, our Mascherini/D’Adamo/Pompellii cousins in Italy always make our visits there memorable. My turn came in May 2010.

Brother, Bernie, his lady, Shirley and cousin, Anthony rallied in Rome for two days, During our Roman holiday, we hooked up with Italian cousin, Monica D’Adamo for dinner. Afterwards, we drove all around the eternal city to places most tourists don’t get to see. Despite her busy schedule, she also made arrangements for our next night. From the early planning of our trip, Monica was our interpreter and contact point for the rest of her family. Our time with her was a study in Old World charm.

This week, Monica and companion, Giovanni Formica came to America for a seminar in New York City. Anthony Mascherino made arrangements to get them to Saint Anthony’s Lodge in Downingtown for a family welcoming. It was closer to a “love bombing”.

About fifty folks showed up and partied down for three hours. We used the Italian kissing-both-checks technique for greeting and everyone used their second language skills to chat.

One moment captured the spirit of the evening. Cousin, Michael presented Monica with a Mass card from her First Communion. He has kept this trophy from his Italy visit many years ago. This touching gesture caused Monica and the rest of us to cry happy warm tears.

Monica & Giovanni’s visit to Downingtown has the makings of stories for years to come and most will be true.

Hurry back to visit again, bella cugina, Monica and pisano, Giovanni.

Here’s a related blog: http://dad.morris329.com/?p=1410

My niece, Stephanie Morris posted her most recent and gorgeous shoes on Facebook. The gushing response from other women caused me to wonder: Are shoes really that important to women?

To be sure my house is in order, I decided to first do a personal footwear inventory. I want to prove I am going through life with a small number of foot wear. From this new, lofty position, I could rain down snide comments about women and their obsession with shoes.

Here’s the tally:

Dress shoes:

1. black Lehigh steel toed received from former employer Binkley & Ober and worn when I’m not wearing work clothes.
2. black Red Wing steel toed – same source as above but I don’t wear them.
3. black Florsheims wing tips- a Christmas gift from Lyn but rarely worn.

Work shoes and boots:

1. brown Lehigh shoes with steel metatarsal guards. Source: former employer, Binkley & Ober.
2. brown Michelin boots with steel toes given again by Binkley & Ober.
3. black Army boots bought at the Salvation Army just to be able to have them. Only Adam has worn them when shoveling snow.
4. tan John Deere steel toed boots given once more by Binkley & Ober. I’ll start wearing them when items #1 or #2 give out.

Sport and play shoes:

1. gray Sketcher Shape-ups used for every day walking.
2. ratty old pair of beige New Balance running shoes used for lawn work: A guy’s must-have item.

Souvenir footwear:

1. authentic Ho Chi Minh sandals presented by Beth & Julie after visiting Cu Chi, Vietnam.
2. black Army low quarters from my Army basic training days in 1965. They were with me for my four years in the service.
3. “Mickey Mouses” foul weather rubber boots courtesy of the Army in 1969. They were made the year of my birth, 1945.
4. slippers given by my son, Adam during my 2002 visit to China. Smashing when worn with nightwear.

Oops, this gives me eleven pairs of footwear. Since I can only wear one pair at a time, why do I have so many? If nothing else, my cheap side made good use of the free shoes my former employee gave me each year. The souvenir items are more sentimental than useful although I do wear the 66 year old “Mickey Mouses” when the weather get nasty.

My final conclusion is I am in no position to bad mouth women about their shoe collections. If you don’t judge me and my shoe stock pile, I certainly won’t judge yours.

Final and non-related shot: how do you ladies walk in some of those structures?

Thanks, God for allowing me to live long enough to witness the written history of the Vietnam War changing to reflect what was.

The History Channel has unveiled “Vietnam in HD”, a six hour documentary about America’s most divisive war. The ground it breaks wrenches away the history of this war from the news media of those times and is perpetuated by the anti-war elements to this day. Its purpose is to finally present the war as it was for those who fought it. It is in their own words. It’s not sanitized or romanticized.

Since most of the young men and women who served in Vietnam are now are in their sixties, the need to get the story right the last time has arrived . Quoting The History Channel’s review of their documentary, “The Soldier’s story is in danger of being lost to history. … the men who came home from the Vietnam War represent a second silent generation.” This describes my life back then.

What we returnees had to say about our war was drowned out by the din of others who highjacked our war. Example: the Tet Offensive was a tactical, military blunder for Ho Chi Minh’s forces. However America’s news media spun it into a propaganda victory for him. So much for wanting the facts to be known.

And lest we forget, returnees ached to fit back in with their generation. It had changed during the brief year they were gone and in this newly changed America, going along and not making waves became a comfortable choice. Again this was my life then.

Getting Vietnam’s final history right flys in the face of those who fought their war on America’s campuses and secured all the newspaper’s front pages or  TV news programs. They have entrenched themselves in roles such as tenured Professors at our colleges and who still sermonize about the immorality of the war and their role in the defeat their country suffered.

The History Channel’s “Vietnam in HD” is the latest correction in the public viewing of the Vietnam War. It may become the most definitive pro-warrior account we’ll get, and I recommend watching it. It will enhance your understanding of the Vietnam War.

It may not change your mind, and that’s okay. At the least, you’ll have been more correctly educated.

In advance of the latest hurricane, my company decided to make sandbags available to the hardware buying public. My prime job was to run supplies from the local concrete company. The boss decided we all needed to fill bags to stay ahead of the demand. I had to take my turn despite my age.

I hit the task running. Handling the shovel, sand and bag brought back memories. Not pleasant memories but heartedly earned.

Near the end of my shift, my co-worker – all of 18 years old- came over to relieve a tired me. He immediately started asking me why I was not doing it another way. I explained we didn’t have the prerequisite 24″ PVC bucket, and I could keep up with just a shovel. He continued to argue with me so I gave him directions to find one if he could – he couldn’t.

As I was finishing my last bags, a woman came over to me and asked, “What is the secret to my success?” I took it to mean how was I able to crank out sandbags like a machine and not necessarily a comment on my current station in life.

I told her, “I filled thousands of these bags in Vietnam”. This remark seemed to strike her the right way, and we talked about a friend she lost to our war. She also remarked about how she admired Veterans for their services. It was one of those warm, fuzzy moments shared by strangers with some common bond.

I recalled this moment in the late November 10, 2011 evening. I’m prepared for the one day each year when Veterans’ chests seem a bit more pronounced.

I learned a lot about Italy from world class traveling buddy, Anthony Mascherino. This cousin of mine taught me that the usual answer when you ask Italians in Italy how long something will take is “venti minuti” or 20 minutes. Anthony was right. I heard this throw-away response so often I wondered if it was just another way of saying, “Not long”.

I was ordering at a Bologna pizza shop and wanted to go to the nearly souvenir store while it was being baked. I looked at the lady and said, “Venti minuti” “Si” was her answer. I had time to shop.

Now I’m back in Downingtown and working three days a week at Maxwell’s Hardware. Co-owner, Tommy Trego likes take-out lunches. I’ll phone in the order to the local Italian eateries like Lione’s and Anthony’s. “Venti minuti” is always the waiting period. I told Tommie about these responses so often he now repeats the phrase after I hang up.

About the only activity that doesn’t take 20 minutes to do in Italy is eating a meal. Quickly prepared food is a sacrilege and meals are considered events intended to bring enjoyment. It is not rushed. Evening meals at restaurants reach two hours without effort.

All in all, not a bad way to approach life.