Dear Swimmer,

The Oswego State Swim coach reached out to Alumni and asked them to write letters of inspiration as they traveled to Florida for their Winter Break training session. This is what I decided to write.

Dear Swimmer,

Hey!

This is Caroline Coley Stanistreet, Class of 1984 (aka the 200-500-1000 free and the 400 free relay!)

Before you gasp and say to yourself, “holy smokes, such an old swimmer” I want to highly assure you that my 22 year-old swimmer self has never, ever left me.

Being a part of Oswego’s Swimming & Diving program has been and will always be one of the most memorable experiences I have ever had…except maybe having to swim the 1,650!

However – I was sick as a dog before a meet and I was slated to swim the 1,650. Coach Grace asked me to just “get through it.” Without any expectations, I reluctantly swam against a known William Smith hotshot, somehow found a lot of inner strength and caught up to her at lap 63. I beat her by about a half pool length and broke the 1,650 record (I had a few distance records). Moral of the story – you just never know what you can pull out of yourself mentally and physically!!

Here’s an annoying term, but “back in the day” it was a lot easier to be a college athlete at almost any level. Now – as you know – it’s really, really hard work to get accepted with coach support to the collegiate athletic program of your choice. I spent a great deal of time and money helping my son get a golf scholarship at a D-1 school through a recruiter – and luckily his talent and good grades sealed the deal. I soon discovered that it’s a privilege to be a member of a collegiate sport. Please do not ever take it for granted. It’s a gift to you for all those thousands of yards you’ve swum since perhaps you were in age group!

The friendships I forged with my teammates, their friends, other athletes and especially our coaches have been everlasting. This all sounds cliche – but it’s true!

Today, I remain in close contact with Coach Grace and a host of other swimmers and divers from the early to mid 1980s. The experiences and fun times we shared at practices, meets and out of the water were incredible. The stories and off-campus antics remain as clear to me as the pool water. I was lucky enough to attend the Alumni swim reunion a couple of years ago and met some amazing alumni from before and after my time.

Some advice while you are swimming your 6,000++ yards in sunny Florida…

…but this is also advice for life:

Practice hard but efficiently. Another old term – work smarter, not harder!?!
Listen to your coach’s advice and guidance. Again, listen to your coach’s advice and guidance. Got it?
Embrace your teammates like they are your family – because they are.
Having forever friends from your college days is gold (and green!).
Stay off your phone and smell the flowers (and chlorine!) and touch the grass.

Lastly…

Don’t be the last one in the pool like I always was – just jump in!!

I still swim regularly with a group of women who were also competitive swimmers and have done Masters meets in the past 5 years. You can always come back to swimming after your career, marriage, kids, etc – remember – you have that gift as a swimmer that few others possess.

Have fun…work hard, play harder! And have a wonderful 2026 in and out of the pool!

Best,

Caroline Coley Stanistreet ’84

Good advice? Maybe! I’m just speaking from the heart…….

P.S. Rest In Peace Leanne Shank, pictured 2nd from right who recently passed away after a battle with cancer. It was such an honor to have met her and shared the wonderful stories from our swimming days. My heart goes out to her family, friends and her swimming buds – and especially Priscilla Fox Morrill and Coach Grace. XXOO

Inspiration from Bear & Company

If you’ve ever heard use the term in golf when aligning a putt – “that’s a tough read”…well, this is a tough write…but here we go…

Reading inspirational books is something I’ve enjoyed lately. Recently, I picked up Live Like a Guide Dog by Michael Hingson at an airport kiosk – and am glad I did. Hingson is the blind man who, with his dog Roselle, escaped Tower One on 9/11. He first wrote Thunder Dog, which detailed the incredible story of Hingson and Roselle saving dozens of people from the 78^th floor on that fateful day. Live Like a Guide Dog chronicles each guide dog Hingson has had since he was a teenager, and how all his service dogs – each with their unique personalities, taught him how to overcome fear, prepare for challenges in life and develop confidence and courage.

Bear and his Most Special Human Sean during a Sit Means Sit Class

We have all learned from our pets, be it caregiving when they are sick, practicing patience when they are puppies, or sticking with a feeding schedule throughout their lives.

Our first 3 dogs were large breeds and had very few health issues. Our first dog, a Golden Retriever named Corky lived until he was 13, and Bailey – Corky’s nephew – lived until almost 15. Puck – our funny and rather mischievous English Black Lab, lived to almost 16.

Puck – our funny Black Lab

How incredibly, incredibly lucky we were.

Fast forward to 2016…we impulsively adopted 2 more Golden puppies for our kids – who were in college at the time…and…how smart was that? you ask. Not very smart – perhaps, but we wouldn’t trade that decision for anything as these two – littermates Pumpkin and Bear – have taught our kids – and me – even more than their predecessors have.

Over the past 8 years, the two of them have been with our kids – and us – through thick and thin. Whether it was taking them to obedience classes, driving with Bear and our son on a 14-hour car trip to his college apartment in South Carolina or just taking Pumpkin for a long weekend – just across town – for our daughter, we have always been quite involved with their well-being. Bear and Pumpkin helped us all get through Covid, as most pets did for their humans. The two of them have done nothing but bring happiness to our family without even trying.

We were punched right in the gut earlier this year, when an x-ray of Bear’s stomach revealed a mass near his spleen, resulting in its removal and detection of a rare and aggressive form of cancer called Stromal Sarcoma.

How could this happen? We would ask ourselves repeatedly. What kind and loving soul deserves such cruelty? I’m truly convinced that selected people and animals can only stay on this planet for a certain amount of time, and Bear was no exception. To guide our son through his late teens and twenties and get him through some pretty challenging times was no easy task on Bear’s part, but he did it – and did it flawlessly. Pumpkin does the same for our daughter, every day.

Bear (left) and sister Pumpkin (right) after a tennis ball workout

We were always hoping Bear would have the same longevity as our first three dogs, but it’s often said that angels can only stay here for a short time.

We have learned so much from Corky, Bailey, Puck and Pumpkin, but the guy we called BearBear, Big Puppy, the Floof, and Mr. Bear, gave some real inspirations – which I will carry with me all the time from now on:

Love, love and more love – first and foremost.
Always be oh-so-glad to see your human, no matter how long (or short) it’s been. Tough day at the office? No worries, I got you!
Wear that toothy Golden Retriever smile as much as possible.
If you have a tail, wag it. If you don’t have a tail, then show that same happy enthusiasm with the rest of your body.
Always get plenty of sleep in preparation for your next adventure with your human.
If you are offered a tennis ball, take it – and go out and play. This can be said for any activity – i.e. do you want to play 9 holes or go for a quick swim?
My paw will always stay on top of yours, after all…I’m here to protect my human.

I’ve seen a cardinal at my bird feeder every day since we said goodbye to Bear. I truly believe he is an angel, hence the saying “Cardinals appear when angels are near.” Bear is watching over all of us while playing with his family members or enjoying the new tennis ball he found in Heaven. But it still stings terribly, and probably always will. The holes in our hearts are quite big, but with time we will all get through it and join him someday to toss that tennis ball with his doggie uncles. I’m just so grateful to have been one of Bear’s humans, and will love him forever.

Our forever Angel

Big Boxes & Billy…for Better Health!

January 6th has a whole new meaning for me!

After 2 decades of my weight creeping up, then the 1/6 diagnosis of some weird, inherited, fairly serious high cholesterol thingy (with two Latin-ish names challenging to pronounce**), I decided to take my life back…I mean, REALLY take control of my life. My doctor has put me on some medication for this condition, but along with meds come instructions encouraging one to “maintain a healthy weight.”

My doctor assured me that my off-the-chart high LDL was NOT because I – and I quote – “ate too many Twinkies.” In fact, if I had not eaten too many Twinkies, it would not have made a darn a bit of difference in my LDL numbers.

“25 in 2025” I’m now saying to myself and the world as I know it!

Whoo-hoo!

Yes, lose 25 pounds this year, focus on keeping it off, and if there’s more to lose so I can be at the healthiest weight possible, count me in.

But this time, no Slim-Fast, no miracle pills, no nothing…I’m keeping it simple…doing it the old-fashioned way by counting calories and upping my daily exercise.

I purchased the LoseIt app for $40 per year, which is cheap and great. It keeps my calories accounted for, encourages me to drink a lot of water and sets a time to do intermittent fasting. I don’t really eat from 8 am-8 pm anyway, but it’s a good reminder to not eat late at night.

But what has really changed is my activity level. Sure, I try to do some weights and cardio during the week and swim at least once a week with my friends, but it’s those minimum 8,000 to 10,000 steps I’ve been attempting to do since my diagnosis. And that weight-bearing walk is what “they” (the experts!) recommend.

Here is where the Big Boxes come in. Big Box stores – while people complain about their monolith presence and perhaps hurt our environmental footprint, they are a haven for people like me who want to get a bit of fitness in during the snowy, colder months. Trust me, if I could walk the beach, on a golf course, or on the long, flat Erie Canal trail, I certainly would. I used to think it was “cute” when my late father-in-law would go to Home Depot and faithfully walk over the winter. For someone who had 2 heart attacks and survived both and go on to live a good, long life, he figured it out. He was a smart man, and now I understand why.

One of my “go-to” walking places

Lucky for me, there’s a WalMart, a Lowe’s next door to it and a Home Depot near both – and all are about a 7-minute drive from home. These Big Box stores give me a chance to get a few thousand extra steps in when normally I’m not able to in wintry conditions. If I’m on the road, chances are there is a Big Box store in one of the markets I visit, and if there isn’t, I can usually find something large – like a Wegman’s or Target to walk around in.

Okay…
“Why not use a treadmill at the gym?” you ask.

My reply is, “have you ever had plantar fasciitis?!” I’ve suffered from plantar fasciitis from overuse on a treadmill, and I never want to suffer from it again.

You go, girl! Enjoy that treadmill! 😉

What’s best is that no one cares you are there. No judgement! People are browsing, searching, and shopping. The employees – especially the re-stocking folks at WalMart – are constantly pushing around carts in every department, and are completely focused on getting the job done.

The Big Box stores are warm, dry, and in my mind, much safer than going to our city shopping mall. WalMart in particular, has easy access and the largest footprint – in which one lap around the perimeter is roughly a quarter mile. A woman who I chatted with while walking at Home Depot said 1 mile is roughly 6 laps around, but often has to dodge the fork trucks and the contractors with big, orange, metal carts full of 2 x 4’s. Lowe’s is the most quiet, and when I’m not feeling social or want to look at people, I often walk there.

WalMart is my preferred Big Box. I start with one trip around the perimeter, but then I like to imagine I’m Billy from the comic strip Family Circus – which wasn’t a true comic “strip” – but a single circle or rectangle, and humorously spoke us all about life as a family. When young Billy was asked to take a brief walk to say, go get a cup of sugar from the next door neighbor, he would take the “scenic route,” in which his path was laid out by the brilliant Bil Keane with a series of black dashes. I’ve done the same thing and it adds many extra steps.

Family Circus...courtesy of the late, great Bil Keane

Maybe Billy was onto something. I can’t help but wonder what he would do if he was let loose at a Big Box store!

Let’s hope the new, two-point-oh me achieves the daily step and ultimiately the weight goal. For now, I’m motivated and will likely stay that way, given what the not-so nice alternative is. Gotta run…wait…I mean walk.

# # #

**Just go to your favorite search engine, look up “FH” and you’ll see what the risk factors are. Familial hypercholesterolemia is something that is not to be ignored.

Jigger

I’ve been thinking a lot about my mother lately, and perhaps it’s due to the fact her first grandchild is engaged and we are starting to research wedding venues. Or perhaps little things pop up in my mind, or even physically, that lead me to remenisce about her life as a wife, a mother, a widow, and then a journalist…in that order.

Mom with my then-little kids at a youth hockey game

So when I read about the recent passing of her dear friend, Anne “Jigger” Brohmann Roth, it left me flooded with memories of this remarkable woman, and I had to share a little story. I will be calling her Jigger throughout the story because that is the only name I’ve ever known!

First, Jigger was a woman way ahead of her time. By the early 1980s, she had already written numerous stories and obituaries for the Herald-Journal, yet after a health issue, decided to up and relocate to China. Yes, China! Very few women would ever consider making such an undaunted journey, but Jigger was not your typical woman.

Anne “Jigger” Brohmann Roth…her father was A. Brohmann Roth, a journalist as well!

Jigger understood she needed a replacement for her society column before she embarked on her new life chapter. In the mid-1980s, Jigger reached out to my mother, a then 50-something, empty-nester and recently widowed. Mom was not doing the amount of writing she had previously done as a volunteer for my Fayetteville-Manlius High School musicals and a community theater group called Shattuck-Nye Productions, so she had the time.

Mom called me – and my sister and brother right away, having her doubts, but we all responded, “Go for it!” Her added encouragement from Jigger, not to mention Jigger’s independent, forward-thinking attitude was also an inspiration for Mom to say “Yes.”

Fast forward to September 16, 1986…when my mom, Jackie Coley, began writing for The Syracuse Newspapers and gave Jigger’s past society column a bit of a re-boot, shifting to Central New York charities holding fundraisers. Called The Social Notebook, the column became Mom’s written mission to help as many not-for-profit organizations as possible through educating readers about what they stood for.

Jackie was always grateful for Jigger’s phone call, and for 22 years, my siblings and I would listen to her rave about her new career and lease on life through The Social Notebook. For that, we are truly grateful for Jigger and her special friendship with Jackie.

May God Bless Jigger and her wonderful life.

FOOSH! aka (W)rist, Recover, Re-boot, Reunite!

It seems like a long time ago when I was walking Bear, our sweet Golden Retriever. He was provoked by a neighborhood dog who was being walked by an older woman pushing a baby stroller. Bear had had enough of this dog’s aggression and constant barking and decided to lunge toward it, taking me with him. This happened just 20 yards from the house, naturally. It was kind of like that last ski run of the day.

I went down onto the street, and fractured my wrist in 2 places. I’m told that a “FOOSH” – an acronym for Fall On Out Stretched Hand – is likely the most common injury at the Emergency Room. Lucky me.

Eek, pretty graphic, isn’t it?

Five days later, I had wrist surgery and am now the proud owner of a plate and some screws in my wrist – which fortunately does not affect airport security.

“Nurse Bear” made sure I recovered!

The day before this happened, I had a good swim and between sets, I thought about entering some Masters meets while the season was still young.

Be careful what you wish for!

I focused on recovery which included a lot – a lot -of physical therapy. Four times a day I gripped, twisted and turned my wrist back into shape all while the Physical Therapist “helped” bend my wrist back into shape. Ouch.

No pain, no gain has been my modus operandi.

When I finally got the green light to go back in the water (the incision had to be completely healed), I remained hesitant and told myself I’d go back in the pool when both I – and my “Frankenwrist” – felt like it was right. My group of swim friends have been part of my support system, and I missed them terribly. One of them had been competing and doing quite well. I’m a participant, not a spectator, so to think of her competing – and not me – well, I was admittedly jealous!

But into the pool I went, and for the most part it seemed like old times…except for being terribly out of shape, and rather nervous about touching the wall with my left hand. Actually, my biggest fear was sharing a lane with anyone – even my friends. The thought of two wrists colliding while passing one another terrified me, but it’s just one of those unfortunate “things” that can happen if you choose to share a lane.

Fast forward – about 6 months later…and kind of ready to swim!

Since the Empire State Senior Games happened the same day as the 60th Anniversary of the Oswego State Swimming & Diving program, I chose to attend the latter, especially since we are all blessed to have our college swim coach around – she lives in Oswego during the summer and was eager to see everyone. It turned out to be the largest group of Alumni in Oswego that weekend – 60+ strong, and all so glad to be back.

Oswego’s finest swimmers and divers!

One of the Oswego Swim Alumni came up with a fun challenge to swim 100-yard Freestyle and use your age as a handicap. Initially, I was not going to swim at the planned “Alumni Splash Party,” but decided that it could be a unique opportunity to have my coach watch me swim at Laker Hall Pool once again. So…in I dove – and yes, from the starting block – swimming against a woman who swam in the 1990s. I had a fairly decent time for someone who had not been swimming consistently in 6 months. They say it takes 3 months to get in shape – and 3 DAYS to get out of shape – and I’m likely the Poster Child for that!

Kirsten and me…swimming the 100 Free!

What was most exciting memory – more than seeing former teammates and coaches – was being able to see clearly in the pool! Eighties Rewind Time – I wore large, ugly glasses throughout college, and while some thought they were “stylish” back in the day – sorry, that’s a big NO. Even with goggles on, navigating through the water was still pretty fuzzy. Sometimes I would even miss the wall while doing flip turns during practice. Luckily, I had both of my eyes “done” – with lens replacement surgery – due to shingles in my right optic nerve several years ago. My blindness in the pool was gone for the first time everrrrrrr – and to see every tiny white tile and the crystal-clear stripe on the bottom – and “T” at each end – brought me nothing but sheer joy.

Coach Grace had a wonderful time watching me swim and reuniting with women from 3 decades, while also meeting the future of the swim program.

We are grateful for Coach Grace! (she is 4th from Left)

There is a new sign in the kitchen window sill – “Begin each day with a grateful heart” – and I sure am grateful for having the opportunity to have a new and hopefully improved wrist, the ability to still swim and someday compete again, and especially making new friends and keeping the old, like the saying goes.

Time to wrist, oops, I mean rest – from writing! 😉

NOTE: This story was edited and then published in the 2025 January/February edition of SWIMMER Magazine, the US Masters Magazine for us old swimmers who still love the whole competition side of things! For more information, go to usms.org

Dream On!

Studies have always suggested that you’ll remember your dreams if you have a sound sleep and are not disturbed when waking up.

One begs to differ – did you ever have a dream or nightmare that jolts you awake? And yet, you remember it in full detail?

Dreams have always fascinated me, and although one of my resolutions was to write them down before I forget, I’ve not made that happen quite yet.

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Luckily, due to an occasional evening dose of Extra Strength Tylenol to ease the pain in my post-surgical wrist, I’ve been remembering many of my dreams.

The dream that was a real doozy was both wishful, comical and scary all at once. Let’s preface it by sharing that I’ve had many restrictions from physical activity due to both the incision and being a fall risk, so naturally, my inner child wants to do nothing other than swim.

It went something like this:

Once Upon a Dream, I “snuck” to the pool, changed, looked around, walked onto the pool deck, took a good whiff of the chlorinated air, quietly slipped into Lane 3, and began swimming…in fact, I was swimming pretty well.

Yup…definitely a dream at this time

In reality – my current swimming stroke would be described as Mastery of Doggie Paddle in a Beginner I Class.

But it wasn’t. There I was, loving every second of being back in the water. Churning through my typical workout, there was not a care in the world until I stopped, and rather abruptly.

There he was. All 280 pounds of him. Standing in the shallow end of the lane. He looked like Mr. Clean in a wetsuit, and even donning the hoop earring. I panicked – because I knew that he was none other than…wait for it…….

THE SWIM BOUNCER!

Now, if you recall those days when you and your friends would hit the campus or downtown bars and nightclubs at 10:00 p.m. (which is now when I go to bed), you would see guys like this standing at the door, ready to “greet” you. They presented themselves in a very intimidating manner, although they probably had hearts of gold hidden beneath their large physiques.

You all remember this guy!

I chose not to “greet” him. I knew I was toast, and soggy toast at that. Looking to the side of the pool for an escape route, I saw my Physical Therapy team standing on the pool deck, ordering The Swim Bouncer to bounce me out of Lane 3.

Rather than letting this guy try and grab me, I looked to my past lifeguarding experiences and got away. Studying and practicing The American Red Cross Water Safety section on “defensive measures while avoiding an aggressor” really paid off.

By some miracle, I butterflied to the deep end (that’s definitely a dream) and pulled myself up on the deck, next to a starting block. But it was too late. The PT Team had me surrounded and The Swim Bouncer was slogging his way toward the deep end.

With no other option, I climbed onto the starting block, took my mark, got set, and dove over The Swim Bouncer – just like that naughty kid who escaped from the lifeguard simply because she wanted to swim during Adult Swim (who WAS that kid?!).

My dive into the water shocked me awake!

I was sad because I wanted to go back to sleep and finish out this silly dream. And I couldn’t help but wonder if the escape was a success, or if The Swim Bouncer and PT Team corralled me and got me in handcuffs – or at the very least the wrist brace I’m expected to wear.

The “new normal” for the forseeable future

How would you finish this dream? Do your dreams have an ending or resolution?

Dreams are one of those great mysteries that someday, our scientific community may find an answer to, or maybe just some good theories in the meantime.

For now, I’ll just keep dreaming – and perhaps I’ll encounter The Swim Bouncer in my next dream.

Spamalot – to The Rescue!

If life seems jolly rotten
There’s something you’ve forgotten
And that’s to laugh and smile and dance and sing
When you’re feeling in the dumps
Don’t be silly, chumps!
Just purse your lips and whistle—that’s the thing

Everybody!
Always look on the bright side of life
Always look on the right side of life

Courtesy: Playbill

Thank goodness for the musical Spamalot, the show is hysterical and every time I think of it, I brighten up and laugh out loud!

We’ve all probably had some down days at one time or another and could use some cheering up. A recent “FOOSH” – an acronym for Fall On OutStretched Hand, which caused a fractured wrist and recent surgery has kicked me out of the pool until what I feel is Spamalot Kingdom Come. I’m quite certain that I’m fighting my way through a weird but normal (I’m told) bout of post-op depression. The pain and lack of use in my wrist is sapping my energy – mentally, emotionally and physically – but I’m not going to be whiny about it.

I’d rather be hap-hap–HAPPY!

There are many ideas out there to keep us joyful and cheered up…and I don’t mean things like CBD, THC or LSD! If you’re feeling a little down in the dumps, here are a few cheer-up remedies:

#1: Streaming or renting funny movies and/or TV shows…So much to choose from! Classic and newer TV comedies like Modern Family, Frasier (both old and new!), I Love Lucy, The Office, Everybody Loves Raymond, The Honeymooners, Friends, Seinfeld, yada yada yada. Films like Caddyshack, Tootsie, Christmas Vacation, Slap Shot, Young Frankenstein, or older classics like Duck Soup, Some Like It Hot, Arsenic & Old Lace, and, of course, Monty Python & The Holy Grail, from which Spamalot was created. Not only do these make you laugh – you get to appreciate quality comedy writing.

Lucy & Ethel – timeless comedy and so darn funny

#2: Animals…snuggling with your Golden Retriever makes everything better, studies do show! So does watching the colorful variety of birds at our feeder. I’m seriously thinking of visiting The Rosamond Gifford Zoo to see how the animals behave in the winter, not to mention taking another look at baby elephants Yaad and Tukada, the now-famous “Miracle Twins.” Gosh, the Eletwins ARE adorable and can make even the biggest sour puss (like me) smile.

Yaad and Tukada…who are cuter than these two?

#3: Staying off Social Media. Sorry about this, but when I’m feeling down, I grow extra weary of people constantly posting about nothing relevant and/or often pretending what a great life they have. The 2-month trips abroad, a daughter’s “fairy tale” wedding that probably broke the bank, someone reliving their athletic past and showing their amazing workout from technology, and finally, posting the Wordle score. The less Facebook or Instagram you scroll through if you’re sad, the better you may feel about yourself.

Good ol’ Wordle

#4: Exercise…yes, yes, it’s so cliche, but it really helps. Even a 10-minute walk outside can work wonders. Sink or Swim? Swimming will wait, but my goal is to get on a recumbent bike when I get the green light to do so.

That left wrist – and the rest of me – won’t be doing that any time soon

#5: Putting pen to paper – or colored pencils to coloring books! Journaling is a different kind of happiness, it’s highly personal, but lets you get it out, save it, or crumple it up and start over. Adult coloring books were “hot” during Covid, but they are still a fun way to get that stress out of your mind.

Does anyone remember Spirograph?

So much fun doing this as a kid…

Remember, as the great Bobby McFerrin sang, “Don’t worry, be happy.” Do your darndest to get out of the Funk and stay engaged with laughter.

Just one more thing, from Spamalot:

I feel happy. I feel happy.
I am not dead yet
I can dance and I can sing
I am not dead yet
I can do the Highland Fling

I’m not dead yet either!!!! Suppose it’s time to rent a Monty Python movie and have some laughs. And do the Highland Fling?

I’m a bit sad, but not dead yet!!

Ogden & Me…at 3 (a.m.)

I’ve entered into my own, personal Third Trimester of Life, and with that comes a whole lot of physical changes.

Worst of all, I rarely sleep. When I do, it’s like a light switch just shutting off only to wake up due to night sweats – or my brain spinning rapidly about stupid, random things.

That overnight ebbing and flowing stream of consciousness goes like this:

“I think I forgot to put my moisturizer on”…..“Did I set the alarm?“…..“How are the kids doing?”…..“Did I make that car payment?”…..“What day was I planning to drive to Buffalo?”…..“Why is there a tractor-trailer driving on our country road at Midnight?”…

…and so on.

I exercise regularly and while that used to help, it really doesn’t any more. Yawn.

Friends, family, – and doctors – suggest medication – or even the “holistic” types of sleep-inducers, but I’m not having ANY of that. To take Melatonin then dealing with the after-effects is like waking up the next morning with the worst hangover – just like in college while on my way to the 8 a.m. Physics class. Both Melatonin – and that 8 a.m. class – will never happen again on my watch.

But one magical night, as I was again attempting to dive into Dreamland, I believe I had Divine Intervention from my mother, who flooded my head with the following prose:

A flea and a fly in a flue
Were imprisoned, so what could they do?
Said the fly, “let us flee!”
“Let us fly!” said the flea.
So they flew through a flaw in the flue.

Then this one:

Celery, raw
Develops the jaw,
But celery, stewed,
Is more quietly chewed.

Any guesses out there? These were composed by the clever poet Ogden Nash, who was born August 19, 1902 and kept my mom and I chuckling for years.

I would often take one of Ogden’s books of light-hearted poetry off the bookshelf in our living room, and enjoy his timeless quips and brilliant take on life, even as a young child. My mother likely inherited her love for Ogden’s poetry from my grandfather, who wrote his own share of poetry and journals and shared with family members. Ogden Nash wrote many, many longer poems, but my childhood brain remembers the short and sweet ones, including this zinger:

Candy
is dandy,
But liquor
Is quicker

Photo by Prem Pal Singh Tanwar on Pexels.com

Then there was the one called “Sweetbread.” As a child, I thought sweetbread was some delicious treat. My mother gently broke the news that sweetbread was something I would NOT EVER like and thankfully did not go into details.

This Sweetbread gazing up at me

Is not what it purports to be

Says Webster’s in one paragraph

“It is the pancreas of a calf.”

Since it’s neither sweet nor bread

I think I’ll take a bun instead.

Many of Ogden’s short poems had a great play on words (“Who wants my jellyfish? I’m not sellyfish!”) and dealt with food and bugs, but he also wrote about life changes and general observations. Nash was ahead of his time, kind of like Jerry Seinfeld was in the 1990’s. One of those observations hit home as my “maturing” colleagues and I seem to be attending more funerals than weddings:

Senescence begins
And middle age ends
The day your descendents
Outnumber your friends

During my 3 a.m. encounter with Ogden’s fun collection of poems, I looked on a somewhat dark wall at a picture of our two Golden Retrievers, Pumpkin and Bear. Before I finally fell asleep, I remembered this one:

The truth I do not stretch or shove
When I state that the dog is full of love.
I’ve also found, by actual test,
A wet dog is the lovingest

Bear loving his pool time

So, take the time to look up Ogden Nash, better yet, buy one of his books, sit down, and laugh out loud. Ogden’s gentle humor may help you relax and reminisce about your happier moments as a child…and even may help you head to Dreamland.

On a final note:

God in his wisdom made the fly
And then forgot to tell us why.

ZZZZZZZ…Sleep tight, friends! And thank you, Ogden.

Courtesy: Poemhunter.com/ogdennash

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Rudy

On Christmas Day, people celebrated the birth of Jesus Christ, but we, as a collection of family and friends, lost the most kind and gentle soul ever. This beautiful soul was our daughter’s horse, and his name was Rudy.

What a full, accomplished life Rudy had – so here is his obituary. If obits for horses are not really a thing…they certainly are now because Rudy has earned it!

Rudy Stanistreet – born May 15, 1998, died December 25, 2023. Rudy was an “Appendix” – a combo Quarter Horse/Thoroughbred which gave him the gifts of agility and speed. He was a trained rope horse long before he met his owner, our then-young daughter Elizabeth. He was purchased from her horse trainer Sue who raised him and who was heavily involved in his training, good health and success. Both Rudy and Elizabeth were both about 10 years old at the time when they became a special pair.

Rudy – always inquisitive and polite

Rudy immediately shifted his career from roping to English Hunt Seat and had a successful tenure at various horseshows in the Central New York area. It was mentioned by a previous barn owner that when it came to performing at shows, Rudy was “worth his weight in gold.” How true…he knew when it was time to properly walk, trot, canter, put his ears forward and behave like a showhorse.

It’s Show Time!

Perfect form!! And they loved every second together

Blue and multi-colored Champion ribbons adorned Elizabeth’s room for years – right until she went off to college.

After a few years on the jumping circuit, Rudy moved from a “not-a-good barn” to a “really, really, great barn” where he learned yet another skill – called Barrel Racing. He spent an entire summer having the “great” barn owners’ nephew work with him on sprinting from a chute, turning around 3 pre-set barrels then racing back to the chute. No fancy attire or ribbons in this sport, Barrel Racing is casual dress, fast-paced and cash-based. Rudy had a ball and used his Thoroughbred skills to the max. Together, Josh and Rudy developed into quite a team that summer and forged a special bond.

Josh and Rudy – bringing it home for the best time of the day!

When it came time to sell Rudy, it broke our daughter’s heart, but college and future work took precedent. She remained in frequent contact with the new owner and the family who owned the barn, while continuing the visits and communication since he was about an hour away from home.

Low and behold, the owner decided to join the Army and moved out of state, while the family who cared for him wanted “out” of the horse-caring business. Elizabeth got a call and was asked if she wanted him back, blankets, tack and all. Shortly after Elizabeth said “Hell, yeah!” – Rudy was moved to a wonderful, loving horse barn right down the street from our home, which includes 2 mini horses full of mischief, a couple of other geldings, and especially his best pal Addie, another Appendix who would follow him around the pasture like a puppy. Rudy and Addie were labeled “The Thoroughbreds” and looked like bookends while grazing.

Rudy and Addie – BFFs

Rudy had yet another job while living at Twinlea Farm. He was a handsome addition to the pasture, always seen right next to Addie, but he also escorted the other horses from time to time to the Assisted Living facility next door to the barn, where the residents could interact with them. His calm demeanor and gentle nature with adults – and especially young children – earned him the title of Distinguished Gentleman.

No matter who you were – or what your size, you had a friend in Rudy

Rudy is survived by Elizabeth and our family, Elizabeth’s boyfriend Alex and her Golden Retriever Pumpkin, Rudy’s barn caregivers Kim and Catherine, the entire Pontello family at Twinlea Farm, Sue – his past owner and trainer, and last but not least, his beloved friend Addie – along with Clarence, Thor, and the two minis – Daisy and Hank, who would “sneak” right into his stall and eat whatever remaining grain or hay Rudy dropped on the stall floor.

Rudy was – is – always will be – our daughter’s first love. He will be deeply missed by everyone and is up in Heaven with a previous barn horse favorite, Moonshine, who he is buried next to in front of a grove of tall pine trees at the farm. Rest in Peace, Sweet Roo XXOO

Why We All Need a “Bonnie”

A recent group viewing of the film “Nyad” with my swimmer friends gave us a few takeaways. Sure, Annette Bening’s portrayal of distance swimmer Diana Nyad was incredible – although my friends and I – admittedly – poked some fun at her swimming stroke (who on earth can truly duplicate a champion swimmer’s freestyle?). The REAL takeaway was the friendship between Diana Nyad and her friend, Bonnie Stoll – played by the amazing Jodie Foster.

Jodie Foster and Annette Bening in “Nyad” Courtesy Netflix

This longtime friendship between the two women beat all the odds including a prior broken relationship, childhood sexual trauma, changes in careers, personality conflicts, you name it. Bonnie had spent most of her life putting up with Diana’s inflated ego and unwavering desire to swim from Cuba to Key West, Florida, which she attempted at the age of 28, then a few more times in her early sixties.

We watched as Bonnie seemed to suffer as much emotional and mental endurance from the side of the escort boat as Diana’s physical challenge in the ocean, including surviving numerous stings from jellyfish and a near-fatal incident from a man o’ war. But Bonnie stayed the course, just like Diana did in her final attempt.

Take – as another example – the enduring relationship between rock star Bruce Springsteen and co-musician, actor and author Steven Van Zandt. Little Steven, as he is best known, is the ultimate wingman to Springsteen and the E Street Band. Sure, they’ve shared their own sets of ups and downs, but Van Zandt has been there for the rocker since they were just starting out in the music industry.

Bruce and Little Steven rockin’ away like they’ve done for years

We all should be lucky enough to have “a Bonnie” – or a Little Steven – in our lives. Be it a college roommate you forged a lifelong friendship with, a spouse, a childhood buddy you always connected with – or even your loyal Golden Retriever – like Bear below – a lifelong, best friend can get you through anything.