I have had to increase my volume to be heard in the quietest place I have ever lived. There isn’t much city noise, save the occasional car that swooshes along the road just outside the house, but there are plenty of other noises.

Machines. The low rumble of the four-wheeler signals the approach of kin. The deafening mower (Uncle Dave’s, Kevin’s, or Pa’s) ruins every Usertest known to man. It hums steadily in and out for a couple of hours whenever Brent mows the lawn. It used to take a third of the time when the three brothers did their “psychotic mower ballet” all at once.  According to Kate, it was truly a sight to behold.

Then there are the sounds of nature all day, every where.

Birds. I know for sure that the first word of Mourning Dove is spelled the sad way because one laundry day, each time I came out to hang the laundry or to collect it, I heard the cooing, no matter what time of day it was.  Birds generate a lot of noise around here.

Insects play their part too. The slow crescendo of cicada static is maddening at times. There’s a feeling of physical relief when a wave is past and it’s quiet for a moment. But it’s soon followed by another.  Horseflies are as big as your thumb and sound like bombers when they fly past. The air is thick with insect life, each with its distinctive sound.

This past week when we lost power for two days, we realized that we didn’t need the air conditioner as much to get by. The beautiful, low-humidity weather and gentle breeze didn’t hurt either. Let’s just say, the weather could have been worse for a blackout, at least down in the valley. Usually, however, there’s no way to survive the summers here without them. Especially if you have asthma and you can’t breathe in the thick air. When we are running our ancient AC’s, though, you can’t hear squat when you’re sitting next to them. I make my point late, I know.

A smart person in the grip of a psychotic episode. I’ve seen it happen to intelligent people in their 30’s and bright kids as young as 8, but in those cases, you know it’s not Alzheimer’s. You don’t have that assurance with older people who develop dementia-like symptoms.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not an easy thing to watch anybody “losing their mind.” With the growing pressures, imperfection, and who-knows-what toxins in our air, food, and water, is it any wonder that according to NIMH (yes, it actually exists) an estimated 26.2 percent of Americans ages 18 and older — about one in four adults — suffer from a diagnosable mental disorder in a given year? One in four, staggering.

A fascinating, but sobering thought – Elderly people with a UTI have been misdiagnosed with senior dementia or Alzheimer’s disease.  This is because a UTI can mimic the symptoms of such conditions. Also, according to Nursing magazine, 30% to 40% of elderly patients with this infection don’t have a  fever, a typical sign of infection.

Because the barrier between the urinary tract and the bloodstream thins out in old age, the bacteria in the urine spreads more easily to the blood stream and causes confusion and other cognitive difficulties as it crosses the blood-brain barrier. Sudden onset of these symptoms may indicate a UTI.

When my mother experienced confusion last year that landed her in the hospital, I had to convince each new set of medical professionals – the EMT’s, the ER personnel, the attending nurses and doctors that she was exhibiting unusual behavior.  It took some doing because even at her worst, she still looked dignified. And that’s all they had to go by since they couldn’t understand what she was saying in Korean.

As soon as they found traces of a UTI, they started her on a regimen of antibiotics. That seemed to do the trick. She slowly regained her mental powers and was eventually back to her feisty old self. Needless to say, it made all of us a little more aware of UTI’s and doing all we can to avoid them.

Lia was tossing and turning, and came down stairs a little panicky. I was working on a sales letter and had hit a roadblock when I started a paragraph about tomatoes. (Long story.) I decided that maybe we could figure out our issues together.

As Lia crawled back in to bed, I asked her to tell me what she knew about growing plants. Here is what she said, word for word:

1) Plants can get too much sun and then they wilt.
2) Not every plant can grow in the same kind of place.
3) Some plants need more water than others.
4) Some plants need more sun than others.
5) Some plants need soggy places.
6) Some need dry places.
7) If you don’t plant them in the right place, they won’t grow.

When she couldn’t think of any more, she nodded off to sleep. I scribbled down what she said as fast as I could. Deep stuff for a kid. It sure helped with my writer’s block.

Where, might you ask does Lia get this gift? [Chest swelling with pride.] “Well me obvious…” [OW!!! I just got whacked in the head.] Her mother, of course, who got it from her mother.

If you go back far enough you’ll eventually get to Noah’s wife who was obviously a wise woman, a capable wife and good mother. It reminds me of a scripture, Proverbs 31:26. “Her mouth she has opened in wisdom, and the law of loving-kindness is upon her tongue.” This is definitely true of my wife. And as bittersweet as it is to say it, I hope that someday there’s a God-fearing, hardworking boy worthy enough to appreciate this in my daughter. (Please note: I know how to handle a shot gun. I get that from my dad.)

Suzanna, Lia, I love you both.

I need to take some Lamictal now and go do my Bible reading. ;)

The best chaperones are those who understand what it’s like to be so in love that you’ve made the HUGE decision to get married. They can actually smile a little when they see the telltale signs of love:

• the incredible lightness, clarity, and easy humor
• the radiance of a woman who knows she is beautiful
• the comfort and confidence of finding the one who makes you feel special “just as you are”

I firmly believe that it is the responsibility of happily married people (especially those who have children) to help engaged couples maintain chaste courtship. Especially if you have a favor to return.

Making excuses is like waiting for something bad to happen, but making yourself available to chaperone is doing your part to prevent something bad from happening. Besides, if you need a refresher, love is contagious. Catch some!

When I moved to New York, good Mexican and Thai food eluded me. Oh how I longed for a succulent lengua burrito from Mariela’s with red sauce and radishes or crab-fried rice and tom yom kun from Ocha’s.

After our move back to Los Angeles, try as we might, we couldn’t find a decent Jamaican joint, at least not one that was affordable. And good pizza and bagels – what more can be said on the matter that hasn’t already? Forget about it, that’s how you deal with the loss.

That brings us to Ohio. What do we miss here?

Let’s just say, I’ve never lived further from a Korean store, and yet eaten as much Korean food as I have since I moved here. If you can’t buy it because it doesn’t exist or you can’t afford it, you make it yourself.

Good Korean food like um-ma makes can’t be found here – no MSG-free kimchi made of every sort of green known to man, undaegoo jorim with sweet squash and long strips of green and yellow onion saturated with spicy sauce, naengmyun for those especially hot days, heuk yumso-tawng with the rainbow of seasonings and fresh greens that you throw into a boiling hotpot , or Mom’s famous loaded japche, chock full of individually seasoned beef, onion, carrots, spinach, and fish cake on potato noodles. If you don’t want to spend several days boiling beef bones for milky white sul-lung tang, drop into Han Bat .  Korean-influenced Chinese noodle dishes like ccha-jangmyun and cchamppong, a perfect fusion of two cultures, if you ask me. Perhaps the food is a metaphor, but I miss it, yes I do.

Country Club Road is the quickest way to get to town, but it’s hard on cars because like most country roads, it is both hilly and curvy. It takes more gas and a lower gear to get up the hills. The speed limit is 45 mph in most parts. I used to wonder why the Millers and Campbells drove down this road like they were being shot out of a cannon, but since driving it myself, I understand.  45 mph is fast, but throw in some hills and curves and all of a sudden, it’s the Indy 500.

When you’re low on gas, the dilemma of whether to drive a longer distance on flatter ground or shorter distance on hilly terrain presents itself. Fortunately, I’ve become quite an expert at coasting this road, like a surfer. The hills are big enough that if I can just reach the crest, I have a free ride for a good part of the way. I just throw that baby in neutral and ride it out. Of course, this only works when nobody’s behind you or if you give yourself enough of a head start. As I ride this roller coaster, I wonder:

Do I know this trick because we often ran on empty when I was a kid?

Do you save gas by pressing your brakes when you’re in neutral?

Does the frequent changing of gears wear down your transmission faster?

Does anybody know a good mechanic?

The richness of butter makes you feel rich and just having four or five sticks on hand at any time is like insurance against deprivation. A salve for the soul, if you will.

To celebrate this day, I gave our butter boat, the SS Everyday Living, the day off. Come back to us well rested and ready to go!

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