12/22/20 12/22/20

Blog Don’t let the holiday season steal your joy

The holiday season seems the perfect time for get-togethers—though this year large gatherings are discouraged. The holiday season started even before Thanksgiving, still technically autumn, though weather often indicates otherwise. All too soon Christmas arrives with New Year close behind, which brings school and church programs and, most years, family gatherings.

By the end of the holiday season, we’re are depleted physically, mentally, emotionally-- and financially.

Time to stop and ask, “What am I doing? Did I even try to say, ‘No!’ to some events I really didn’t need to attend? What did I gain for all my efforts?”

Even though the urge to get out may not be as pressing this year, there are still places to go and gifts to buy, Christmas letters to write. Even searching for gifts online takes time effort and money.

Before we exhaust ourselves we need to ask, “Were friendships begun or deepened? Were family ties strengthened or simply frazzled by the time restraints, rush, and tension?

Did I take time to spend time with my spouse, my children?
Did I take time for friends?
Did I take time to worship the very One we’re supposed to be celebrating?

How often in the mindless hustle and bustle, did I consider what others really needed? That might be time, not stress, tension and gifts quickly discarded and forgotten.

In the end, when we stress out about events and shopping and gifts we end up overwhelmed and a little resentful—though we bring it on ourselves. Do we resent time spent gift shopping for things most do not need or want? Upset that gifts kids, especially, will abandon to play with the boxes those expensive toys were in? Why? Pride, status, being a good person, parent, or friend? How foolish!

True, there is pleasure in connecting with friends or family not seen in a while, and I love exchanging greetings with those from far away and catching up with each other's lives. There is also the love that goes into just the right gift for someone special. But just-right gifts don’t have to be expensive to share your love and care.

In fact, spending more than you can afford actually takes away the joy of your find--especially once the bill arrives. Gifts are no substitute for personal contact even if that is by phone, video, Zoom, etc.

Instead of rushing headlong into the season, stop. Take stock of your finances, commitments, and time and plan accordingly, leaving time to breathe. Take time to consider the true meaning of the season--Jesus. Jesus came in the quiet of the night.

This year, let’s spend less time hurrying and worrying. Let’s spend within a budget and give priority to family--and to worshiping Christ the Savior who came to bring joy and life to all who bow not just at the manger, but also at the cross.

Most of all, choose to slow down, listen for God’s direction, and share His love with those around you. If He can sustain us the rest of the year, surely He can sustain us during the hectic holiday season—if we let Him.

It is remembering that it is in giving, not in frantic activity, we will come to know the true joy of the season.

11/30/20 11/30/20

Blog Count blessings during this holiday season

We could hardly see out the front window. Snow obliterated everything. We were snug in our house, but our daughter, scarcely more than a toddler, was very ill. Her temperature had zoomed to scary levels,

We needed to get her to the doctor, but our car would never make it in the blizzard. We had to do something. We called my brother who lived a few blocks south of us. His car might get through.

Paul didn’t hesitate. He said he’d come. I remember Keith holding Cassie on his lap, both of them dressed for the weather. As soon as Paul pulled up, Keith carried her out to the SUV. Paul got them through to the doctor. A good thing. Cassie had pneumonia and needed medicine. She was sick for quite a while, but thanks to Paul, Cassie got the diagnosis and medication she needed.

When Chris and Cassie were in elementary school both of them came home with the flu. It was nasty and they weren’t making it to the bathroom to throw up. I knew I couldn’t be going room to room so had them snuggle down in our bed. By then the hallway didn’t look or smell so pretty good. I could give the kids water and have them take large doses of vitamin C, but I knew, with my disabilities, I would not be able to clean up the hallway or bathroom.

I called Paul’s wife Lorene. Like Paul, she did not hesitate. She grabbed what she had from home and came over. Once she scoped things out, she called Paul. She had him bring orange juice and 7-Up for the kids and more cleaning products.

Meanwhile, she got paper towels, rags, and cleaning supplies together. To handle the smell, she actually clipped a clothespin on her nose. With the help of Lorene and Paul, the house got cleaned up and we got the kids resting comfortably. By the time Keith was able to leave work, the kids were asleep. So many times, my brother and wife have been there—ready, willing, and without complaint.

They aren’t the only ones. Others, too, have been there when I fell, needed a ride to the doctor or to take the kids someplace. We have been blessed by caring family and friends.

This Thanksgiving I was thankful not just for a day in which to give thanks, but also a day to be grateful God put such special people in our lives. Real relationships aren’t about selfishness or all-about-me, but about reaching out in God’s love to those around us. For that I give thanks.

Friendships a Matter of Gratitude

I am thankful for family and friends
The kind who rally round
In times of trouble or need
Who don’t expect a return for their effort and time,
Who give with a hug and a smile,
And give again without complaint
Who cry when you cry,
And laugh when you laugh
And make you want to give back in turn
In their time and need
Reaching out as family and friends we
Make the world a better place to be
Because, like Jesus taught and lived, we
Are sacrificial friends.

Especially during times like this year when it is easier to complain, we need to have an attitude of gratitude, not just at Thanksgiving time and on into the Christmas season, but also on every day of the year.

11/17/20 11/17/20

Blog Scaring up memories of fun Halloweens

***Erica Marsland Huynh@partyintheshire***

Though this Halloween (during te Covid pandemic) was very different from other Halloween celebrations, it brought back memories of other times in my life when the holiday was different.

When I was a child, Halloween wasn’t a big thing. Stores didn’t carry costumes. Parents and kids made their own. Mine was easy--torn pants, sloppy shirt, a long stick with a bandana pouch tied to it, and I became a hobo.

My friends and I each brought a bag and went house to house for candy. (Then my folks rationed our haul, so we didn’t eat it all at once.)

By the time our children were ready to Trick or Treat, Halloween had become a much bigger celebration and much more dark. It had also become less safe. Razor blades were found in apples and other treats were doctored in cruel ways. Parents were told to only take their children to the homes of those they knew.

Bryant School decided to hold its own Halloween celebration. A college student friend went with Chris and I dealt with Cassie. The kids had a good time and still brought home treats.

Then a person from a large Kearney church conceived of a way to provide fun and food in a safe and positive environment. She and others from the church contacted other churches and formed a committee to plan what became Bibleland Carnival which became THE place to go on Halloween.

The concept was to come in a character from the Bible. This opened costumes up to animals, characters—and not all Bible characters are good characters.

Different booths had a variety of delicious food. There were bounce houses, huge slides, all types of games, including a cakewalk and actual pony and horse rides. For years, our family assisted at Bibleland Carnival.

Of course, we made sure the kids, and whatever friend they brought with them, had time to eat and play games. One year I took tickets for the pony rides by an open side door. (Brr.) I had a stool so I could rest when needed. It was metal with an open center.

That year Cassie kept doing the Cakewalk. She ended up with five cakes we stored stacked up under my stool. Later we gave most of them away. The yearly Bibleland lasted long after Chris and Cassie left home for college and work, and Chris married.

One year, Chris and his wife brought their three littles to enjoy the carnival. Another generation of memories. Without Bibleland or kids at home, we returned to sitting by the front door and offering treats to the kids who came to the door. By then, also, we attended a church in the area and knew a lot of the kids. Besides candy, I tried to offer little toys, pens, etc.

But even this next generation of kids grew up and the nearby neighborhood aged. Finally, with almost no one coming to the door, we stopped buying treats to give out to nonexistent Trick or Treaters.

It is sad with the circumstances this year, most parents chose to keep kids at home. I have memories, my children and grandchildren have memories of Halloween. Our daughter took her two little ones to a park. A lady who was giving out treats gave them each a treat bag. I’m glad our youngest grandkids will have good memories of the day.

However, next year, I hope we can celebrate in a safe, positive way—and with kids going house to house, filling their bags with treats.

11/3/20 11/3/20

Blog Creativity needed in connecting with loved ones

The situation with the Coronavirus has, pretty much, quarantined families and limited contact with family and friends. For introverts spending time at home may not be so daunting. Extroverts find the lack of human contact frustrating and imprisoning. However, there are creative ways to stay in contact with the outside world.

I am thankful for today’s technology which allows us access to friends, family, and work in so many ways. We do not simply have phones, we have smartphones that are an extension of ourselves and makes us available.

We have email and social media, all of which helps us stay in contact. How can we make contact feel more intimate and close? My voice isn’t always easy to understand, especially over the phone, and even worse if the person with whom I am speaking has a hearing problem. Like many other older persons, I remember getting cards and letters that touched my hearts and that I kept to read, and to reread.

In an era of digitizing, few take the time to send cards and heartfelt letters. When my 94-year-old father-in-law went into lockdown in a senior care home, he found it difficult to communicate with me via phone, Instead, I communicated with him by snail mail, writing about our lives in a weekly card in which I sometimes added a picture or two of the grandkids—his great-grandkids.

During this time, Keith and I learned to use Zoom for meetings, and with family and friends. Keith has recorded books on video, showing the different pictures, to send to our three and one-year-old grandchildren.

Keith’s family stays in touch through a texting loop as well as a private Facebook page. Birthdays and other events can be celebrated with colorful graphics and even animations via email, Facebook or other social media, many of which can be found and used without cost.

It was difficult not to be in personal contact with Keith’s dad because of the lockdown. Keith’s brother Randy found a way to see dad. He’d go to dad’s window where Dad could see him and communicate via the phone.

When Keith’s brother Mark died of a freak accident at the end of April 2020, the surviving siblings—Keith Randy, Rhonda, and Tim—needed to be together and needed to spend time with dad who just lost a son. They conceived of a way. With the assistance of Bethany Home staff, the siblings brought chairs and settled into a small secondary entryway. The staff settled Dad on the other side of the door with his phone.

Dad got to see all his remaining kids close up, saw they were OK, and got to speak to each one. Keith said Dad had a big smile the whole time they were there. It was good for them all.

Though restrictions loosened for a while, some restrictions are back. For now, it may take some creativity and thought to stay in contact, but if we’re willing we can stay in communication until we are free to come and go and receive and give what is so important to our mental and physical health—personal contact and hugs.

10/20/20 10/20/20

Blog Saying goodbye not a one-step process

Saying goodbye to a loved one may seem like something we can capture like a snapshot in our memories. We know the last time we saw or spoke to that person. We may even be present when our loved one takes that last breath. But there is so much more to death than a simple goodbye.

When we lost my husband Keith’s dad earlier this year in the midst of Covid-19, and though the virus wasn’t the cause of his death, it did change the situation. When he went to the hospital the family could not be with him to encourage, hug or pray with him. At least one family member could be there--until he chose Comfort Care rather than aggressive care. It meant family could be with him.

It meant our two children who’d come for a visit with our daughter’s two little ones were able to see their grandfather one last time. They didn’t know how quickly he would be gone, but knew since they did not live here, they probably wouldn’t see him again. He was gone a day later. A goodbye. A memory.

Shock turned into planning the funeral, which we were able to hold in his church and with guests--family and friends who loved him. We filed by the casket, stopping, swallowing hard, and wondering how could a fall so quickly deteriorate to this?

Yet there we were, suffering and encouraging each other at the same time. We said our face-to-face goodbye. After the service, we said goodbye once more at the cemetery where he was laid to rest four years after the death of his wife, my husband’s mother. We heard the pastor’s words of comfort, and heard the 21-gun salute to a former WWII veteran.

As the oldest sibling, Keith who received the flag was overwhelmed and honored. Another goodbye, but goodbyes do not end with a funeral.

Instead, it has become a new chapter of grieving and goodbye’s as the siblings deal with a lifetime lived well. I lost my dad to a heart attack in 1988. He’d been my dad since my birth in 1950. He left a hole in my life and heart. But I also had another father I respected and was glad to share Keith’s dad for the next 32 years. I’d rather have Jiggs back than his inheritance.

But that was not to be, God called him home and I am sure he would not wish to return. It was a goodbye for who knows how long. But one of the hardest goodbyes was getting together with family to go through Dad’s things left in his home.

He hadn’t changed much of anything after Keith’s mom died in 2016, so we had her as well as Dad’s material possessions to go through. Before going to Minden, I’d asked our kids what they wanted from the house. Chris and his children wanted books. I went through boxes and boxes of books, pulling out those our family would enjoy or appreciate. I got recipes for Chris, an amateur chef. It was so hard.

No one fought. What needed to be saved simply needed to go to some family member. Saying yes to another item and packing it away seemed like another goodbye.

Before long what was left in the house would be turned over to the auctioneer. Soon the house that rang with so much laughter from family get-togethers would also be gone. Death isn’t one goodbye. It is a series of goodbyes.

Maybe we need the time in order to grieve. All I know is that I am thankful for life today--even if that means I’ll be saying goodbye again and again as something comes to mind and grief overwhelms.

It happened with my folks and still, though less often now, with my brother who died in 2019. Through it all, I can say goodbye because I know God’s comfort and care through His Word, prayer and through the love of family and friends. Though I know grieving has not ended, I am thankful for today, for the memories and for the knowledge that this life is not all there is.

10/5/20 10/5/20

Blog Curb cutout mats with bumps not safe

When at thirteen years old I first got ill with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, there were no ADA laws for the disabled. We lived in a world created for those with few if any, physical limitations. Going places with curbs took my father some deft maneuvering to get my wheelchair up and down without spilling me out of the chair.

Though he tried to be gentle, my pain levels often had me gritting my teeth so I wouldn’t cry out. Imagine my relief when cities began replacing those high curbs with ramp access. My wheelchair would go smoothly up on the sidewalks, down to the street, and up again on the other side. This was especially welcomed when I had massive surgery to help me walk again.

At first, I was encased in a brace that went from my shoes to above my waist. Add crutches and walking was slow going. The ramped curbs weren’t easy to negotiate, but, with assistance, I could manage.

Eventually, I got rid of both brace and crutches. Even so, managing curbs has never been simple or easy. My balance comes in to play as does the possibility of tripping. (Now that many of my friends are dealing with limitations due to age, I share that learning to walk heel to toe cuts down on tripping because the toe is less likely to catch on something like a crack.)

For years I managed the smooth concrete ramp curbs. Some were more accessible than others and, often, as the concrete crumbled, there were few, if any, attempts to repair curbs that became increasingly dangerous for those with limitations. Still, most were better than a high curb.

That is no longer the case. The last few years, many smooth curb cutouts sported something new. Many, probably most, curb cutouts now have a rubber-like mat at the top of the ramped portion. I can understand how a flat rubber-like mat could assist in keeping a wheelchair or a foot from slipping, especially when it is raining or snowing.

What I cannot grasp are the almost suction-like raised dots all over the mat like mushrooms. I’d like to know the thought process behind this concept. These mats have turned what were perfectly acceptable curbs into something I now avoid if at all possible. (If a car is close to the curb, I can use the car to hike myself on and off the sidewalk.)

I have since learned these added rubber mats are meant to assist those with less than perfect sight. But did anyone speak with persons like me for whom the original design was meant? Did anyone check what this meant for those of us who are already unsteady on our feet?

Using the car method is safer than negotiating those awful mats. When I must use them, I need assistance and hang on for all I’m worth as I wobble my way over the raised dots. The mats unbalance me and are a huge trip hazard.

If I had my way, they’d all disappear. A flat mat. Fine, but leave off the suction-like cups. I wonder how many others, like me, have been frustrated with this addition to the curb ramps.

I hope someone with some common sense will come up with a better plan. Until then, park close to the curb, I just might need to use your car.
© 2020 Carolyn R Scheidies
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9/30/20 9/30/20

Blog Politics No safe place for females of any age

It took most of the last century to raise women from the legal and natural consideration that women were little more than appendages to the men in their lives. Women finally came into their own.

They gained the right to vote. In WWII they handled factory and other jobs men were used to having, except now most of our younger men were far away fighting for freedom from the Nazi menace. Women also followed the soldiers as nurses and in other critical roles.

After the war, many women chose to remain in the workforce and earning their own money. Still women struggled. Women were at a disadvantage in men’s sports. They fought hard and finally founded the right of women to hold sports that highlighted their unique abilities. This was followed with higher pay for those playing in women’s sport and with scholarships that helped young women attend college.

Women also struggled with safety in vulnerable places such as lockers and bathrooms. Eventually, such places were designated for gender and they had safe spaces for women and children. They could go into public female facilities without concern they would be intimated, threatened or assaulted.

Then the culture changed, wiping out the gains women strove so long to attain. This change is once more, making women into second-class citizens whose wishes and desire for privacy and safety no longer matter. This change comes on the heels of the transgender movement.

This didn’t seem all that important when there was a definition for who a transgender was. That, too, has evolved into something deadly for women. Many in our culture say that science doesn’t matter and biology doesn’t matter.

What matters is who I feel like being today. This means that without any medical changes, anyone can wake up one day and declare “today I am...”

Manly Craig likes women. He likes looking at them, fondling them, and exposing himself to them, which is intimidating. He may even have a criminal record for assault. It doesn’t matter.

Craig has the key to feed his lust and violence—and it is perfectly legal. The key is a simple phrase. Without any background, any stated desire to change, without any therapy or drugs or even desire to become another gender, all Craig has to say is, “Today I am Candy,” and he has legal access to every safe space meant for women.

He doesn’t have to be transgender, just state that “right now” he feels like a woman and no female is safe. This fluidity of self-identifying gender opens the door for pedophiles and perverts to assault women at will in their own spaces.

Without definitions, no woman is protected. This is already been played out in the courts. A man in prison for assaults and rape of a child, claimed, when it was time to transfer to another facility, he was now transgender—though he’d made no efforts in that direction.

On his word alone, the court forced a women’s shelter to accommodate him. The women at this shelter were already traumatized by assault, rape, and other violence perpetrated against them. They were in what they believed to be a safe space.

They were not safe. This man assaulted women in the facility, leaving them more traumatized than before. I read of a man entering a women’s bathroom to assault a young girl. In this case, the girl’s mother and the other women stopped him. Do you believe that girl will ever feel safe in a public restroom again?

The media is all in on these laws that refuse to define who a transgender is and seldom refuse to report growing attacks on women by men claiming the right to invade female sanctuaries simply by repeating the key, “today I am female.”

No one realizes how this degrades women and shreds everything women have fought so hard and for long to attain—an acknowledgment of their uniqueness and safety.

Time we let those making these decisions and laws know that saying something doesn’t make it true and has opened the door for every male out there to intimidate and threaten women because public bathrooms, even your daughter’s locker room, is open season for bullies and voyeurs.

Meanwhile, females have no say at all and are basically told, “Move to the back of the bus.”

Wake up parents, grandparents, pastors, and teachers. Stand up for biology, science, and reality for the safety and security of women.

9/15/20 9/15/20

Blog What is the American Dream?

Today we have those who seek to tear down America’s heritage by vandalizing and destroying memorials to those who went before. But while some have torn down statues memorializing those who fought in the South during the Civil War, now what is coming down are memorials to President Lincoln who ended slavery.

These thugs and American-born terrorists are also destroying statues to African American heroes. Many committing these crimes want to destroy America, others are simply ignorant of American history and what the American Dream is all about.

Before America, there were individuals and groups who wanted to live and worship without undue government influence. Those who held views that differed from the “approved” government religion often found their families broken up when members of the family were jailed or even hung or burned at the stake.

Then they heard about a land across the ocean and they began to dream. These persecuted people groups felt called to the new land. Groups pooled resources, others sold all they had for passage to the new world known only to sailors and merchants. Pilgrims and Puritans and others came and settled into the new world.

Regardless of the work involved, regardless of losing loved ones, they built homes in the new world where they worshipped in peace, accepted personal responsibility for their choices, and were involved in the governance of their settlement. While some of the settlers did not get along with the natives found in America, others such as the Pilgrims hashed out a mutually beneficial treaty that lasted 50 years.

Other settlers followed, dreaming of freedom of choice and faith, dreaming of a place to build homes and a future. While many early and later immigrants came to worship in freedom, others simply wanted new opportunities or to escape dictatorial governments.

When the American government became a reality, the core of the America Dream was “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” The Dream was about faith, freedom, and family on a solid foundation of Judeo-Christian ethics and principles of honesty, morality, and hard work.

The American government system turned the usual method of governing on its head, making citizens the masters who chose their own leaders and the right to get rid of those leaders who did not govern for “the will of the people.” As citizens got comfortable and the government grew, those in government accumulated more power, leaving less for citizens. Still, we vote for our local, state, and federal representatives, senators, and presidents.

In the 1950’s the American Dream became owning a house (not a mansion) with a white picket fence in a nice neighborhood with a church and school. Citizens could find a place safe for raising a family, and where a person could have a job to support the family.

Even though America is no longer the “land of the free and the home of the brave” it once was, even with all the turmoil, mainly from those whose hatred and/or ignorance of the truth about America’s past—and some of these work in the media or in government jobs, America still offers more individual freedom and opportunities than most other countries. This is why so many still seek to come to these shores—to make their own American Dream come true.

By those we support and vote for we choose to destroy the American Dream or keep it alive. Please do your research beyond the media agenda.

8/31/20 8/31/20

Blog Bio Before the KSC/UNK campus was accessible

Recently my oldest grandson and I exchanged emails. I asked him if he would be able to attend his college courses in person this fall or still have to attend online. He answered that he would be able to physically attend classes, but he preferred online.

I told him I hadn’t had such choices which led to some interesting stories. He wanted to hear them and that got me remembering. Back in the early 1970s, my parents were looking for a college for me to attend. At the time, my father had no church so we were free to move to any place with a suitable college, one with a journalistic program and one where I could get around on campus. (I had one year at a community college all on flat ground.)

Getting around to classes was no small thing as I was in a wheelchair I couldn’t even wheel myself, though I could peddle a bit with my feet. Also, there were no ADA laws making it clear that colleges and businesses needed to accommodate those with disabilities.

After visiting what was then KSC (UNK), we were told they would help me get to my classes. Obviously, no one really considered what this meant. Nevertheless, my parents, my younger brother Paul and I moved to Kearney, which felt like home right away. (My older sister was married and lived in Kansas.)

After we settled in Kearney, my pastor father was once more called to serve a church—this one in Canada. Since we all loved Kearney and Dad would soon retire, Mom and Dad decided only Dad would leave to serve the church, while the rest of us stayed here in Kearney.

That created an interesting problem since my mother did not drive, leaving my high school brother as our only driver. He took me to college on my first day and got me to my first class. Somehow, I did get from class to class that day. At the end of the day the person wheeling my chair left me outside a building that is no longer on campus. I wore a warm cape, but the skies were threatening and mist threatened to become rain.

Paul was supposed to pick me up, but he didn’t. I tried to turn around. I saw he and two friends entering a building too far away to hear if I called. Obviously, they were looking for me. I was getting cold, praying, and wondering what to do. A woman saw me out of the window and took me back inside.

We tried to call my home but got no one. There were no cell phones. She knew who I was from church and decided to take me home. I was so grateful. On the way home we passed Paul who’d gone home to check if I were there. When I wasn’t, he headed back to the college.

He saw us and, thanks to the kindness of a stranger I was OK. When he got home, Paul added to the story. After unsuccessfully searching, he contacted the security office—campus cops.

He explained the situation. “My sister’s in a wheelchair and I need to find her.”

The officer on duty appeared bored. He glanced at his watch. “I’m going off duty now. If you haven’t found her by morning, let us know.”

Thankfully, unlike Campus Security, a stranger cared enough to get me home.

The old administration building consisted of three or four floors with no elevator. When I had classes in the ad building, I’d call my professor and explain I was in a wheelchair and couldn’t do stairs. Most professors assigned young men to wait at the bottom of the stairs and carry me up chair and all. Those were some wild rides.

These guys were kind and treated me with respect.The problem came during test time. As soon as someone finished the test they were to leave. No one thought—including the teacher—how that affected me. It left me at the end of the day stuck on a top floor of the ad building, mostly emptied of teachers, students and almost everyone else.

Paul would never find me, though by then he pretty much knew where I’d usually be for pickup. I had one option—prayer. It was frightening to be stuck with no options. Suddenly, up the stairs came someone I knew.

For some reason, she had business up there that afternoon. She was surprised to see me and shocked at my situation. It didn’t take her long to find some strong arms to carry me back downstairs. I was so grateful!

I can’t say how many times I needed a ride and how thankful I was for the kindness of complete strangers who helped me get around when I “got stuck.”. That was especially true in Winter when sidewalks were cleared with only a narrow path for walking.

I graduated with many good and some scary memories and a heart of gratitude that I would remain in the town that, for the most part, welcomed me—Kearney NE.

© 2020 Carolyn R Scheidies
Published in Kearney Hub 8/31/2020
Read my autobiography The Day Secretariat Won the Triple Crown

8/18/20 8/18/20

Blog Winning friends, influencing people and respect

We live in a culture that has lost one of the strengths of America. That used to be the right to the free exchange of ideas. We listened to ideas different from our own and we learned from one another, even if we basically held the same opinion as before.

Today we live in a culture that spends way too much looking for, finding, even manufacturing reasons to be offended. We’ve made name-calling a first response along with anger that almost automatically engenders a negative response.

This desire to hurt others who offend us all too often and without provocation, uses the race card, physical harm, or trashing someone’s reputation or job simply because a person might say or write something not fitting the current politically correct fad.

People from all walks of life are losing jobs and suffering insults because of something that surfaces. Whether true or not, one person may pick up on one aspect of something communicated, chooses to be offended and targets the person through the media. They gathers others to the cause until employers are intimidated and a person, who might be perfectly innocent or who stated something awkwardly, loses a job that may well support a family. This has a name—bullying. Too many in our society have become bullies. Are you one?

Why do we think we need to trash a person personally simply because we don’t like what they said or wrote? Everyone is entitled to their opinion. Also, on many issues, there are often more than one legitimate side, backed up by “experts.”

Whatever happened to self-control, reading without blowing a gasket and considering another side—without anger and without the desire to lash out?

Those who really wish to change someone’s perspective need to realize response matters. No matter how “off the wall” you may think someone might be, that person is a human of worth. That person probably has family and friends who care and may well respond in kind on behalf of a family member or friend who gets trashed in public forums.

Think before you write something in anger. Consider where you might be in agreement and start with those points of agreement. This gives you a more neutral platform to state, respectfully, your reasons for disagreeing.

Maybe when you read or listen without rage you might gain a different perspective of what was communicated. Maybe you will realize no harm or disrespect was meant. Maybe you’ll discover things that may need more research—and not just from one point of view.

When you respond without rage fueling the response, you are more likely to reach an audience who will consider your point of view instead of turning off your reasoning because of the way it was presented. We live in a culture that nourishes anger and hurts and, in doing so, creates circles of hurt and wounded.

How much better to treat one another, especially those with whom we disagree, with respect and learn to think first and respond rationally and without anger.

Romans 12:21 says it best, “Do not be overcome by evil. But overcome evil with good.”

Extending and accepting forgiveness never goes out of style. Who knows where respectful dialogues will lead.

© 2020 Carolyn R Scheidies
Published in Kearney Hub 8/17/20 as “Winning friends with respectful dialogue”
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8/4/20 8/4/20

Blog Bio Jiggs a Special Father-in-law

My father-in-law was a quiet, but strong man. He was the only father in my life since my own father died in 1988. While LaVern (Jiggs) Scheidies was not a loud, boisterous person, his quiet presence drew attention.

He was intelligent and a conversation with him was never boring. His family loved him. Since losing my mother-in-law in 2016, we, as much as he’d allow, pampered Him.

Dad was a farmer, an honorable profession. But he was so much more. In WWII he was a tail gunner. He attended Hastings College when he returned home, before joining his family in farming. He grew corn including some of the best popcorn around. He clerked sales and auctions. He bought property and houses that he rented out.

If you needed a part or some equipment, he’d know where to find what you needed. He was an entrepreneur. In their later years, after Jiggs and Bert left the farm and moved to Minden, I remember once when Keith and I visited. His folks were so excited as they shared the news. They’d purchased a post office of all things. I didn’t even know a private person could own a post office, but it proved to be a good investment.

Keith’s folks loved their five kids of which my husband Keith was the eldest—Keith, Mark, Randy, Rhonda and Tim. They welcomed spouses once their children married. And, they loved their grandkids. Our two enjoyed spending a week or two each summer at the farm. Chris even got to assist with irrigating.

Keith’s folks drove into Kearney to attend games, school and church plays, programs, and other events in which Chris and Cassie were involved. They were the ones who started the tradition of going out for ice cream afterward.

Eventually, the grandkids married and there were great grandkids to spoil. In 2016, we lost my mother-in-law. Two years later, Dad entered Bethany's Home with a staff that took good care of him. He kept his home.

Periodically, Keith and I bought Kentucky Fried Chicken, brought Dad to his home, and enjoyed dinner with him. We loved these special times with Dad. We thought we’d have many more of these times together.Then Covid19 hit and Bethany Home, like other homes for senior citizens, locked down.

No longer could we visit with Dad, except via phone—and he was hard of hearing. It was a hardship for us, but even more so for Dad. It got worse when April 30th Dad’s son Mark died of a freak accident and we could not hug and comfort Dad.

Bethany's staff did facilitate Keith and his siblings visiting Dad through an entry door where he could see them and communicate via a cell. Keith said he smiled the entire time they were there. Maybe we’d get through this.

Then blood clots sent Dad to Good Samaritan Hospital in Kearney. We expected he’d recover. He didn’t. Once in Comfort Care more family could visit. It meant our two who’d come to visit us with Cassie’s little ones (who stayed with us), were able to visit and say goodbye to the Grandfather that they loved and who loved them.

The next day, he passed away. Two huge losses and so close together—neither from the virus. Thankfully, we could hold a funeral and have time to remember, visit those who came and be thankful for a man who honored God, his country, and his family.

I am sad. My heart grieves and yet, I also feel blessed. I am thankful for having two wonderful fathers who loved and influenced me and who left an example of caring and integrity.

7/21/20 7/21/20

Blog The Problem with Charity Pomotions

During most of our married life, every dollar had to stretch a long way. That meant while we believed in tithing, and giving, we didn’t have much more than a tithe to give and sometimes even that was a hardship. Since we didn’t have hundreds or thousands to donate, it bothered me that once we started donating, we started getting, not only our receipts but more.

Sometimes we got slick, full-color magazines we didn’t want and didn’t read. Other times we were inundated with appeals for other ministries under the same umbrella. What bothered me most was that all this mail costs money and I sometimes asked myself, how much of our meager donation actually went to the endeavor or missionary we supported?

We still get much too much in the way of promotion from charities in the mail, sometimes, from charities seeking to add us to their list of donors. At least I can toss them into the wastebasket. The Internet has changed everything. I like being able to donate online, Saves a stamp, and writing out a check.

But doing so means the organization has my email. Besides sending a receipt, which is important for tax purposes, charities, along with other businesses, recognized the allure in sending promotion to email addresses. Today, my email is overwhelmed by useless promotion campaigns. It is cost effective for the organization, but I have to wonder, if like me, are many tired of the constant attempts to guilt us into larger donations?

Asking for less promotion doesn’t seem to fall on listening ears. I am grateful for those organizations that are more judicious in how much promotion they send out. Some of the policies of many charity organizations are questionable. If I support a missionary family, don’t try to get me to support others or other “needs” of the organization.

“Donations” means we give money to help or because we feel God leading us to support a person or cause. Recently, one organization sent a letter saying donations have not kept up with the cost of living and would we consider increasing our giving.

I really didn’t mind a reminder or even two, but the organization seems stuck in pointing out how much more we could give and this was after we’d increased our giving. This approach will eventually backfire.

For all my frustration with a flawed system, we do have our own set of guidelines. We do not give over the phone. I carefully check out charities to which we donate. How much actually goes to the cause or ministry? I do not let emotional appeals overrule making choices as to whom, when, how often, and how much to donate.

We also seek to support individuals whom we know and trust, though, of course, this isn’t possible much of the time. God calls on us to give generously. We also need to do so within our means. Check your budget, look for a need, and give--even if it means ignoring irritating calls for further donations.

7/7/20 7/7/20

Blog Masks are not for everyone

Remember when coronavirus started making news? We were told a good thing which was to wash your hands often. When I grew up both parents and teachers not only taught the importance of hand washing but made us kids do so after playing outside, before eating, etc.

Roll down the years and someone got the bright idea that this simple sanitary practice wasn’t fair to everyone or some such nonsense and this simple practice that saves lives and health went by the wayside. Now it is back and I hope this will once again become a normal practice in homes and schools.

The other thing we were told was not to touch our faces. It was like being told not to think of a pink elephant and all you can think of is that pink elephant. Telling us not to touch our faces suddenly made us self-conscious about how much we touched our faces. Hard to stop.

Then the “wear a mask” mandate came down and everyone hurried to find something to over their nose and mouth. In certain cases this was voluntary, but more and more it became a mandate. I have watched those who wear masks. Many are constantly touching their faces pulling the mask up, adjusting the nose covering or the strings that fit around the ears.

When you consider this is supposed to be sanitary protection, then the whole idea goes south. After leaving the business establishment, some throw the mask in their pockets, purses, or in the glove compartment until the “next time” it is required.

Doesn’t take long for these masks to become saturated with germs. If you wear masks, for your well-being, please keep them clean

There are enterprises who geared up to make this product and now entice potential customers to wear a mask in the privacy of their homes or in an open-air park. Really! Where ads used to sell their products with sex, now products use fear.

Many who mandate masks have little concept of the unintended consequences. Very young children should NOT be forced to wear a mask. They are just learning how to breathe. Others report getting dizzy trying to wear a mask for even short periods of time. Many with asthma or other breathing problems simply cannot wear a mask for physical health reasons. Those with claustrophobia problems suffer panic attacks.

Some, like medical personnel and those showing symptoms, should probably wear masks—short term. According to the CDC some definitely should not. These include Children under age 2. Anyone who has trouble breathing. Anyone who is unconscious, incapacitated or can’t remove a face mask without help.

Some medical and government acknowledge this problem, but many do not. I’m one who cannot wear a mask. Add to panic and breathing problems, consider how am I to wear this mask.

I need someone else to put it on me. Someone to adjust it when needed and someone to remove it. In an era of self-distancing that doesn’t work. I don’t go get my hair cut because those who go to a business to get their hair cut have to wear a mask. How does that work?

Many of today’s restrictions make little sense and have more to do with assumptions of good rather than scientific or medical proof. I can’t help but wonder about the balance between drawbacks and benefits. Now we’re afraid to go outside and simply breathe fresh air.

I’ll be glad when we put them away for good. (Real, not fake data comparing the states and countries who masked against those that didn’t. The result. NO SIGNIFICANT DIFFERENCE. Wearing a mask is a fairy tale, not science. Don’t you wonder why so many authoritarian organizations including medical establishments try to prolong the usage?

7/5/20 7/5/20

Blog Bio My Way-or God’s

LISTEN! WHO ME?

Read: Proverbs 1:1-7

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge: but fools despise wisdom and instruction.--Proverbs 1:7 (KJV)

I remember my dad trying to replace the plug on a lamp cord. Dad was very handy, always able to fix anything around the house that needed fixing. This simple job had him stumped. He struggled and struggled with a job he thought he understood, growing more and more frustrated by the minute.

Again and again, he stripped the wires, shortening the cord a bit each time. Finally, totally exasperated, Dad picked up the plug box and found the directions. He read them. To his chagrin, he discovered this particular plug was a new “easy” install type.

All he needed to do was lay the cord, as it was, in the groove and snap on the cover--no stripping, no connecting tiny wires. How foolish I could see he felt as he completed a five-minute job in about an hour. How much needless frustration he caused himself.

How often could this be you or me?

“No one is going to tell me what to do?” That includes listening to good advice or reading directions. Who makes these claims? The tough kid who skips school. The teenage girl sneaking out to meet her boyfriend. The young marrieds in the throes of their first big disagreement. The employee who doesn’t like a new, common-sense regulation.

How often do we, in essence, use this phrase in our Christian life? When we ignore God’s Word, ignore communicating with him, ignore the fellowship with His people, we are telling God, “I don’t want to do things Your way. I’ll do it MY way.”

Because we’re “saved”, because we claim the name of Jesus, we think we’ll escape the consequences of our rebellion, but rebellion is still rebellion. We go our way and end up with disaster, depression, chaos, and emptiness in our lives.

How much pain and hurt and frustration do we need to go through before we’re willing to come back to Jesus for forgiveness, read His instructions, and follow His directions for our lives? He’s not there to kill our “fun,” but to help us find the richest life possible--a life meant only for those who follow Christ in His will and way. Time to commit to read and study God’s Word and to talk to Him.

Dear Lord, forgive me for trying to do life my way, not yours. Help me take the time to read Your directions each day and to listen when You speak to my heart and mind. Amen.

Meditations:
Monday: II Timothy 3:16-17
Tuesday: II Samuel 12:1-14; Psalm 51
Wednesday: Proverbs 2
Thursday: Psalm 113
Friday: James 4
Saturday: Proverbs 3

6/30/20 6/30/20

Blog Politics Freedom—historical context

Read: I Peter 2:13-17

As free, and not using your liberty for a cloak of maliciousness, but as the servants of God.--I Peter 2:16 (KJV)

Fireworks boom in the ears and marvel the eyes as they spread colorful displays high in the night sky. For all the buildup and excitement, not to mention money spent on fireworks for Independence Day, how many of us sit down with our children or grandchildren to teach them, and to remind ourselves, what it is we celebrate on July 4th and why this celebration is so important?

Do our children and grandchildren understand the struggle the Americans had against an autocratic king across the ocean who refused to grant basic liberties accorded to other British citizens, while continually finding ways to raise taxes--on almost everything?

Do they understand that many of our founding fathers, the ones most committed to making sure Americans were treated with dignity, lost property, lost their money, and lost loved ones in a war they believed critical to freedom?

Do our children and grandchildren know aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins who have gone to war to preserve a nation of freedom--some even paying with their lives? What of families, wives, mothers, and children, who lost loved ones far across the ocean in foreign lands?

Do they understand the true cost of growing up in America?

These days, schools don’t often teach history without spin and revision. It is up to us as parents and grandparents to pass on the faith and freedom that is the basis of America. If they do not know, if they aren’t taught the actual history, if they take their freedom of faith for granted, they will lose freedom and the right to worship.

It is already happening. America’s freedom started with men and women recognizing the true source of freedom--Jesus Christ. We need to pass on this faith as well.

Do I?

Thank you Jesus that, despite all the problems, I am privileged to live in America. Help me not take either my faith or my freedom for granted. Help me pass these concepts on to a new generation. Amen.

Meditations:
Monday: John 8:32
Tuesday: Galatians 5:1
Wednesday: Galatians 6:13-14
Thursday: Romans 6:7-8
Friday: Romans 6:22-23
Saturday: Romans 8:20-21

From Listen? Who Me?
(c) 2018 Carolyn R Scheidies

6/23/20 6/23/20

Blog Bio Snakes, summer and surprises

I have had quite a history with snakes. I am not talking about snakes in our front and back yard. I am talking about adventures with snakes that somehow manage to sneak into our house and surprise me at the most inopportune times.

I’ve dealt with a huge sake inside the front door and half under the baseboard that looked about ready to deliver who knows how many wiggly baby snakes. I screamed. The only person I could think of in the vicinity was our pastor at his office at the church. I called.

Pastor Dave came with a rake and had that snake out and dispatched before I could take a breath. That was the beginning of my adventure. My contractor brother had his crew fill in the crack between the sidewalk and the front of the house. Nothing coming in that way!

One year a snake suddenly appeared out of the baseboard in the kitchen and slithered behind the refrigerator. I knew snakes hate salt. Out the back door, I’d I poured salt down the opening between the sidewalk and the house and had snakes escaping right and left.

I used that knowledge by opening the garage door (next to the refrigerator) and pouring salt on the kitchen floor to keep the snake out of the rest of the house while giving it a way out. Never saw that snake again.

I had a snake walk me down the hall at night. I sensed I was not alone. When I flipped on the light, there was this little, almost, cute baby snake looking up at me. Eventually, my fear dwindled and I‘d had enough.

Because of my limitations, I keep what I call “helper hooks” around the house. They help me reach, dress and pick things up. Finally, I found one more reptile just inside the front door.

This time I noticed one of my hooks hanging up nearby. My mind flashed to the place I’d been with my family many years earlier in the Black Hills where they handled snakes with hooks. After managing to open the front door, I grabbed my hook, hooked that snake, and threw it outside. I felt a sense of satisfaction.

For a while, I thought I’d seen the end of snakes entering our house. I stopped checking out corners and the doors. All was well. Not quite. So much has happened this year, I really didn’t need one more thing. But, we can’t always control circumstances.

We’ve been pretty much staying home and self-distancing until lately. Instead of shopping, we ordered groceries to be delivered. That morning I saw the vehicle pull up and headed to the door to open it so the delivery person could bring our groceries inside.

Oh no! There was a snake right inside the door—again. I was startled. I screamed for Keith. Even using a cane he responded quickly and, using his cane, had that snake out the door by the time the lady got to the door with our order.

Is my adventure beginning all over again? I hope not, but I am pouring salt around the places these creatures may sneak in. I really don’t like snakes, but considering everything else going on, snakes in the house is, by comparison, creepy, but not earth-shaking.

They aren’t poisonous snakes after all. Besides, I am reminded that they, as are we, God’s creations and whatever snakes are in my house or life, I can be thankful that He’s got this.

6/9/20 6/9/20

Blog Bio Mark Scheidies—friend, family and loss

2018 Dad Jiggs Scheidies with his kids—Rhonda, Tim, Randy, Keith and Mark

Kearney Hub title: Mark special brother-in-law

April 30, 2020 we lost my husband’s brother Mark to a freak accident. To say the least, it was a shock.

I didn’t know my husband Keith’s family very well when we married over a year after I graduated from what was then KSC, now UNK. We married after I had major surgeries to straighten my legs and year-long therapy to help me relearn to walk again after being in a wheelchair for almost 10 years.

To say I was nervous when I met his parents doesn’t begin to explain how I felt. After all, Keith was their oldest of five siblings—Keith, Mark, Randy, Rhonda and Tim. And he brought me home. Yet the whole family was gracious and accepting.

While Mark was one of Keith’s groomsmen, it took time to really get to know him. I remember being at their parent’s home for a meal after which the family members pulled out board and card games. I was asked to join the group who played Risk. It had to be the shortest game on record.

When asked to play it again another time, I was so emphatic about my refusal I caught his sister’s attention. “Did you play Risk with Mark?”

“Yes,” I said.

I got a head shake. “You never play strategy games with Mark.”

I quickly learned you needed your wits about you when playing games with him. In fact as his obituary stated He earned an expert ranking in tournament chess and was Colorado Postal Chess Champion. He played in over 1,000 Trivia competitions and made it into the Jeopardy contestant pool six times.

When the siblings married and we started having kids, the uncles did not back away. They were very involved in the lives of their nieces and nephews. One favorite picture is of a protective Mark in the barn loft with our son, his nephew, Chris, and his daughter Tiffany and niece Anne.

I really got to know Mark once my writing career took off. I began attending the large Colorado Christian Writer’s Conference. When it was held in Boulder, I stayed with Mark and Jenni. Jenni usually went with me to hold my “stuff” and to see I got to my seminars. But as a working dentist, she wasn’t always available.

I remember once when Jenni had to work, Mark willingly came to the conference with me and helped me get around. Not only that, but he agreed to critique one of my early manuscripts. He took his work seriously and his suggestions may have made the difference in being offered a book contract.

Though we often differed politically and theologically, we could talk for hours. I loved hearing his insights and he seemed to appreciate my insights as well. Mark was not only very intelligent but also unfailingly gentle, kind, and thoughtful.

Even as he lay in the hospital after his accident not knowing his future, he was more concerned about his family and about who was going to deliver the Meals on Wheels when he couldn’t.

He was, as are his brothers, what is hard to find these days—a true gentleman. In losing him, especially so unexpectedly and so suddenly, my husband lost a dear brother, I lost a brother-in-law and friend.

During this time of social distancing, what is really hard was not to be with his family to give hugs to his wife Jenni and his children and grandchildren. Hard not to be together to remember and grieve the loss of a good man, a beloved husband, father and grandfather.

But I can purposely remember and I give thanks for all the good memories made from family get-togethers of a close family. We reach out with cards, calls, and even Zoom. And I can pray for his family. That’s something we all can do for each other.

Mark thanks for making my life better for knowing you. Rest In peace.

5/19/20 5/19/20

Blog Bio Spring, Virus and Relief

My 70th birthday. January 2020. Keith in the wheelchair.

It has been a long year for Keith and I. January 2019 began with the death of my brother Paul. The rest of the year centered around dealing with all the aspects of his loss. This year was a new beginning. We got one, but not what we expected. Early January, Keith slipped on a patch of ice and down he went.

Thankfully there were individuals who helped him. After a visit to a specialist, Keith got the news. He’d broken his ankle which would take 6-8 weeks to heal. During that time he wore a huge boot for protection and was told to absolutely stay off of it.

For the first several weeks he used a wheelchair, then a walker, and finally a cane and a brace instead of the boot. He’s still using the cane. If walking on uneven ground, he is still supposed to wear his brace for extra protection. It was exciting when he could drive again. We could go shopping, could go out to eat--and we could attend church services again. (I don’t drive.)

That lasted maybe 3 weeks or so. Then the nation was immersed in trying to stop the pandemic of Covid19. Social distancing and staying home became the new watchwords. Who were the most vulnerable? We were. Not only are Keith and I in the target age group for getting the virus, our immune systems are compromised.

After spending the first part of the year at home due to Keith’s injury, now we stayed home to stay safe and well. While Keith is an introvert and is fine with his books, iPad, and computer, I have discovered I’m not the introvert I thought I might be.

Yes, I like alone time. Yes, my work is a solitary pursuit. But as much as I enjoy alone time, I also need interaction with people. I also do better with sunny skies rather than with overcast skies, gloom, and rain. With the warming weather, just going outside, standing in the sunlight, and breathing in deeply helps.

I am thankful warm weather is arriving. I am also thankful this happened at a time technology can help us keep connected. Our church started pre-recording services for Sunday worship. Wednesdays, Zoom helps us stay in touch with our church Fellowship and Prayer time. Phone calls continue from family and friends. Email also helps us keep in touch. We can even meet, with caution, in small groups.

I really covet FaceTime with our daughter and two youngest grandkids--Ellery (3) and Ezekiel (1). Like our daughter, Ellery is more of an extrovert and misses time with friends. Now, she asks her mom to talk with Gramma and Grampa via video. It is wonderful to be able to see and hear them.

It also makes me long for the day we can get into our car and drive to Omaha and give long hugs. Meanwhile, restrictions are slowly being relaxed. Even that leads to frustration and the urge to complain. Instead, we can do something different. We can count our blessings and reach out to those who need a word of encouragement.

We can pray for those making decisions that they will make wise ones. We can pray for the safety of medical personnel and we can pray virus cases will continue to decrease. Further, we can love and continue to spend quality time with our families. Finally, we can give thanks that this, too, shall pass. Use wisdom and stay safe.

5/5/20 5/5/20

Blog bio Surprise on Mother’s Day

My family moved to Kearney in 1969 for one reason—so I could continue my college education. Though my father was a pastor and there was no church of our denomination in Kearney, my parents chose to move here. That must have been rather scary.

What would a pastor with two kids do in Kearney? (My older sister was married and lived in another state.)

We settled on KSC, now the University of Nebraska at Kearney, because they had a journalism program and because, before the ADA regulations they were willing to see I made it to my classes. (I was in a wheelchair I could not wheel by myself.)

Dad found a job and we settled into living in Kearney. In fact, my folks fell in love with the area and were even talking about retiring here. Then something happened. My dad received a call from a church in, of all places Ontario, Canada. He was known in the area because his first churches were in Ontario, Minnesota, and Wisconsin.

My folks discussed the situation. I was doing well in college, my brother Paul was in high school. They decided Dad would go north on his own, though Mom and I went up the next summer to stay with him. (Paul stayed home to work.)

Dad came for visits when he could. Even though Mom missed Dad, she seldom complained about the situation. With Mother’s Day coming up, I knew her heart’s desire was to spend time with Dad. How could Paul and I make it special for Mom? Turns out, we didn’t have to.

At the time, we’d rented a large house south of the fairgrounds. Since I couldn’t do stairs, Mom fixed up the old laundry room for me, which had a bathroom off the room.

My parent’s bedroom was upstairs, but often Mom slept on the downstairs couch feeling uncomfortable leaving me downstairs alone. When someone knocked on the door in the middle of the night, she was sure of her decision.

She hurried into my room. “Carolyn, someone is at the door.”

She wrung her hands. “What do I do?” (There had been some weird stuff going on in our neighborhood.)

I told her to peek through the curtains. She sucked in a breath and headed for the living room. Silence. Had I given the wrong advice? Then I heard a loud scream. Usually a scary sound, but I could tell this wasn’t a scream of terror. It was a scream of surprise and joy.

I threw off the covers and struggled into my wheelchair. A moment later, I understood as Dad’s arms surrounded me. He’d come home for one reason—to surprise Mom for Mother’s Day. He certainly did that.

This year visits will be few, far between and careful because of the virus. The difference between then and now is that even safe at home we’ll be able to see and interact with family—grandkids—using FaceTime. Dad provided Mom a special memory. This year, I don’t expect a visit, surprise or otherwise. Instead, I’ll make memories online.

If not in person, let your mom know you care with a card, a phone call, or an online chat. Maybe you won’t match Dad’s surprise, but you can reach out to let your mom know the important thing—you are thinking about her and love her.

Happy Mother’s Day!

© 2020 Carolyn R Scheidies
Published in Kearney Hub 5/4/2020
Feel free to share
For more on the author’s life read The Day Secretariat Won the Triple Crown

4/20/20 4/20/20

Blog Restrictions, quarantines not new to epidemics

The Coronavirus has taken the world by storm. While many are scarcely affected, others, such as the very young, the elderly, and those with compromised immune systems, are told they are in danger. After seeing how some countries didn’t take the spread seriously enough and were overrun with cases, President Trump chose to get ahead of the virus spread with a task force and a checklist that included frequent hand washing, social distancing, and self-quarantine.

Nursing homes went into lockdown mode. Schools went to online learning situations, Those who could work from home were asked to do so. Medical personnel became immersed in learning all they could about the virus, how to diagnose and treat it.

Those who understand how one person can infect many others have stayed home both not to infect and to not be infected. Quarantines slow down the spread of the virus. But, this method of stopping the virus didn’t start with the Coronavirus.

Even the term “quarantine” began during the Black Death that killed so many in Europe in cycles starting in the 14th century. According to the article Black Death Facts: your guide to “the worst catastrophe in recorded history”, the term “quarantine” first came into the culture in Venice early 15th century with a 40 day imposed isolation, though the town of Ragusa had already imposed a 30 day isolation period.

They did much more to keep out those beyond their borders that impacted the severity of the plague both in the 14 and 15th centuries. When in 1527 a plague devastated Wittenberg where the reformer Martin Luther lived, he answered a friend’s question about how to deal with the plague in the following letter found in his works Volume 43, Pg. 132: Whether One Should Flee From A Deadly Plague. Luther wrote, “I shall ask God mercifully to protect us. Then I shall fumigate, help purify the air, administer medicine and take it. I shall avoid places and persons where my presence is not needed in order not to become contaminated and thus perchance inflict and pollute others and so cause their death as a result of my negligence.

If God should wish to take me, he will surely find me and I have done what he has expected of me and so I am not responsible for either my own death or the death of others. If my neighbor needs me however I shall not avoid place or person but will go freely as stated above.”

Doesn’t sound much different from what we’re asked to do today. The spread of the deadly Spanish Flu in 1918-19 coincided with World War I. An estimated 50-100 million persons died world wide with 675,000 of these in the USA. The article A Pandemic And A Parade: What 1918 tells us about flattening the curve reveals the results of how two American cities handled the warnings of the Spanish flu.

Philadelphia ignored warnings. Instead they had a huge parade with veterans, Boy Scouts and other groups marching down the street. Some 200,000 persons lined the streets. The parade was to promote the purchase of Liberty Loans to help pay for the war. Three days later not a hospital bed was to be had. Finally the city closed down, but it was two late. Some 4,500 people died.

St. Lewis heeded the warnings. With just two cases diagnosed, St. Louis closed down schools, churches and public gatherings of more than 20 persons. There were still cases and people died, but the quarantine did it’s job. The sick didn’t overwhelm the hospitals and the city had many fewer casualties than Philadelphia.

You may think the advice for self-quarantining has saved lives in past times—but only for those actually diagnosed. Consider your actions in light of the elderly, and those with compromised immune systems for whom this virus targets. Taking precautions may save more than one life.

Update: we know now, the Covid shots did not stop one from either getting or passing on the virus. Scientific data also now shows that mask mandates were totally ineffective as there was no significant difference between states and countries that masked and those that didn’t. Covid was not the Black Plague

There were and are better and safer alternatives. Fauci sold a bill of goods to a frightened populous. We need to not let fear rob of us doing our own research for truth—beyond the government agenda and the media.

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