Clerking Monthly Meeting

Today was a new experence for me--clerking my first Meeting for Business. While it was thought at first to be a daunting task, I found it very easy and things fell right into place. I never doubted my ability to lead a meeting.

If I have one flaw when it comes to meetings, it is to sit in one and have it get off track and wander about. Being one who likes to keep focus on the subject, I was a little concerned that I might be too rigid in keeping discussions focussed on the topic at hand. However, that never occurred; the discussions flowed toward the end and concensus was reached on the topic which was being discussed. There was only one exception though: a discussion was underway relative to a topic which was presented by one of the committees. While it engendered a bit of discussion and questioning, we were unable to reach concensus. As is the Quaker way, the matter was held over for next month's meeting to discuss further and, hopefully, reach a decision agreeable to all.

It should be readily pointed out that, without the love and understanding of the others in the Meeting, I would not have felt as comfortable as I did. Several commented to me at the conclusion of the meeting that I did a wonderful job in conducting the meeting. Several have expressed to me over the past few months how much the appreciate my taking the reins of the Meeting and leading it in Rolf Hanson's absence. As indicated previously, I feel my leadership abilities are finally being recognized by a group of people who do not have their own agendas and who truly wish only the best to come out in me. That is very gratifying, especially when it comes from longtime Quakers who have a much longer experience, both with Quakerism and in life than do I. All I can do is continue to hope that I give my best to the Meeting and keep its best interests paramount.

One Hectic Month

This past month has been a very trying one for me, but is one which I have been able to survive, nonetheless. For starters, I got a call from my sister, "Maggot" on August 12th that Mom had fallen in her apartment the night before and fractured her hip. Of course, it was quite upsetting to me and, as the morning progressed, I felt more and more that I should go up to Panama City to see and comfort her. I then decided to leave the next day after tying up some loose ends here in town. It was a long, but uneventful trip and I was able to get up there around noon. I went straight to the hospital where I saw her with her left leg splayed out to the left. It was in talking to the doctor later on that I realized it was not her hip but, rather, her femur which had broken. Apparently she was emptying her dishwasher and turned to the walker I had purchased for her a few years ago. Not having set the brake (she apparently never does), the cart took off on its own and she fell to the floor.

Having done some research on rehab facilities before I left home, I hit the ground running the next day, visiting several rehab facilities to assess them and how they would suit Mom and her needs once she was discharged from the hospital. However, that was not to be for some time, as Mom was on Coumadin and they had to let her blood thicken up enough to do the surgery, lest she bleed out in the course of fixing the break. She developed an erratic heartbeat which had to be brought under control before they could do the surgery. Came Saturday and she was still awaiting surgery, this time in the Cardiac Care Unit. Having to return to Bradenton, I left on Saturday to make the long drive home.

The next day I called Maggot before setling down for morning worship and found Mom had just gone into surgery. What a relief! She came out of it okay, but she had low blood pressure and oxygen, so she was then taken to the post-surgical ICU for a day or two. I was feeling more relief until I developed a toothache.

That got a bit worse through the week when I called my dentist to see if he could see me. I went in on Thursday only to find that the tooth, which had had a root canal done on it, was not the problem. Rather, there was an infection in the tissue below the tooth. I was given a prescription for Amoxicillin and made an appointment with the endodontist for a week and a half hence. However, the tooth was nagging so I decided to call back and have the appointment moved back. I saw the endo and he did what he did, removing the filler in the root canal and put in medication to supposedly kill the infection.

I went back to Panama City the following week with no problem, this time checking out assisted living facilities for Mom, should she need one upon her discharge from rehab (she had been discharged from the hospital by this time). All was fine and I returned home on Thursday, being cognizant of Hurricane Hanna which was loking at Florida that weekend. The following day my tooth started to feel a bit of pressure which increased over the following few days. As I had an appointment with the endo first thing Tuesday morning, I held off on calling him. However, at 4:30AM on Tuesday, I was awakened with an excruciating pain in my jaw. Pam took me to the endo, as I was in no shape to drive, and he was surprised the infection had returned, even with a vengeance. He cleaned the tooth out once again, and this time went into the gum and drained out even more infection. He gave me a prescription for an even more potent antibiotic which I have been taking religiously since then. The tooth no longer hurts but I have a persistent pain in the jaw and tissue which requires some pain medication from time to time. I cannot open my mouth as wide as I am used to, but it gradually seems to be getting better. I see him again this Wednesday and am hoping all is settling down and will be well.

The one image I have in my mind is what my dear mother-in-law went through over 30 years ago. She had an infection in her jaw which was diagnosed as osteomylitis. They theorized that when she had her teeth pulled, a fragment of one of the teeth remained and festered. The poor woman had to have her jawbone packed with gauze and even had a hole completely through the jawbone, from the outside to the inside of her mouth which had to be reamed out with strips of gauze, like one shines shoes. I am so fearful of that image, hoping and praying that I don't have to go through the same thing.

On the positive side, I am finding much joy and satisfaction in my duties of Acting Clerk of Sarasota Monthly Meeting. I have had so many people comment and write to me of the appreciation they feel for me and the way I am leading the Meeting. I am doing only what common sense leads me to do and wish only to bring to the Meeting my talents and abilities to help make it a better one. As I mentioned to one of the members, I see the glass as half full and am doing what I can to fill it all the way.

My First Two Years in Florida

I am sitting here, reflecting on my first two years in Florida. One thing I do know for certain: I am certainly busier now than before I retired. I have been volunteering for Tidewell Hospice, involved in visitation to patients and working at the local hospice house. I have also been certified as an Ombudsman by the State of Florida. In this capacity, I am responsible for inspecting and assessing nursing homes and assisted living facilities in the Bradenton area, as well as acting as an advocate for residents in resolving complaints made by the residents or on their behalf.

Far and away, the busiest I have been is my involvement with the Sarasota Monthly Meeting of the Society of Friends (Quakers). Although I have retained my membership in Madison (WI) Monthly Meeting, I have become an integral part of the Sarasota Meeting. Starting out on the Meetinghouse Committee, I became co-clerk when the designated clerk, Lesley Jacobs, went north for the summer last year. With my involvement in this capacity, my organizational and communication skills have allowed me to become a leader in the Meeting. This role is not something which I sought out but, rather, it was something which evolved over the course of the past year. In that vein, I have now taken on the duties and responsibilities of Acting Clerk since the Clerk, Rolf Hanson, has gone on a sojourn to the Midwest and to Pendle Hill, a Quaker study center in the Philadelphia area, for the summer and fall. Being Acting Clerk is a real labor of love. I find myself being looked to by others in the Meeting as well as getting a lot of support from the others. Without the support of the others I do not know if I would be up to the task. I find myself rededicated to my spiritual base and am really enjoying the solice and exploration that such a state of mind engenders. While there has not been a Meeting for Business (on hiatus over the summer months), I find myself eagerly looking forward to such. The challenge of preparing for such a meeting and letting (making?) myself be spiritually driven to allow a sense of the meeting prevail in its decision making process is something which I really look forward to. I hope I am up to the task. But, as mentioned before, there is a lot of support for me in the Meeting, so I am not too worried about moving forward. Only time will tell...

The Cost of War

The American Friends Service Committee has done some research on the cost of the Iraq War and has come up with some interesting and enlightening statistics. Besides the cost in human life (both American and Iraqi) we, as American taxpayers, have to take a closer look at what is being spent on this needless and useless war and make a decision as to where our tax money should go. To wit:

$720,000,000 = One Day Cost of War
$720,000,000 = 34,904 Four Year University Scholarships
$720,000,000 = 423,559 Children with Health Care
$720,000,000 = 95,364 Head Start Places for Children
$720,000,000 = 84 New Elementary Schools
$720,000,000 = 12,478 Elementary School Teachers
$720,000,000 = 6,482 Families with Homes

The Bush Administration favors tax breaks for the rich in this country while the middle class bears the brunt of the costs of the war. Bush is always wanting to increase the funding for the war while vetoing measures aimed at providing health insurance for children and subsidies for farmers. What we need in this country is leadership which will truly lead and listen to vox populi. I am hoping for a renewal of Kennedy liberalism with a vision for a country which can pursue lofty goals and fulfill the promises of the Founding Fathers. JFK established the Peace Corps; envisioned legislation which led to the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and led us to the moon. We truly need new leadership which will get us out of the quagmire in Iraq and have the vision to lead us into a new day which will result in a better world for all. I look forward to the day when we will no longer have to celebrate Memorial Day because there is no war.

A Life Lesson

I had a life lesson this past week which really stuck with me and reminded that we cannot take anything for granted.

Being a volunteer for Hospice, I am called upon from time to time to assist others, either by visiting with them, taking them places or simply running errands for them. I was called upon last week to assist a hospice patient who needed to go to the hairdresser one day and to the doctor the following day, as her cleaning lady, who usually performed such duties was away due to a death in the family. It should be noted that Ruth was a childless widow who had no family in the area. I got to know Ruth and she made the comment that she wished that I could be her regular volunteer. I had no objection to it and notified the Hospice Volunteer Coordinator to pair Ruth and me up. This was on Friday. On Sunday, Ruth called me to ask if I would move her garbage can to the curb, as it was too heavy for her to do alone. I went over to her house and assisted her. When she wanted to pay me, I refused saying it was against Hospice policy as well as my own. However, I indicated that a hug would be payment enough and so she paid me off in that fashion.

That evening, Ruth had a stroke and died just three days later. In thinking about her, it dawned on me that, as her cleaning lady was still out of town, the hug we shared on Sunday afternoon was probably the last meaningful interaction she had with anyone. I took away from this the lesson that we should not take others for granted and tomorrow is promised to no one. One never knows if, or when, they will see another again and that, even though a hug is not necessary, the fact that we leave someone with the sense that we love them is how we should leave them, lest our paths never cross again.

Every Vote Counts

One thing which I fail to understand is that so many Americans, living as free as we do, fail to exercise their right to vote. They seem to feel that their vote will make no difference, so why bother? I was talking to a fellow hospice volunteer a couple of weeks ago and mentioned the upcoming election. She reacted with the comment that she does not pay any attention to it and does not vote.



I am currently reading The House Divides, a history of the United States between the War of 1812 and the Civil War by Paul I. Wellman. In it the author cites a passage from the book, The History of Our Country, by Edward S. Elliott:



"The power of one vote was never shown more strikingly than in Indiana in 1844. A sick man in Switzerland County, was carried two miles in a carriage to vote for David Kelso, who was running for the state senate. The sick man was a client whose life had been saved by Kelso. The act of gratitude caused the client's death, but elected Kelso who received one more vote than his opponent. The state senate had to elect a United States Senator. Kelso bolted the Democratic caucus and took with him a friend. This tied the vote for weeks. Then Kelso selected Edward A. Hanngan [sic] as a new candidate and declared that he would vote with the Whigs unless he was supported. This threat brought about the election of Hannigan [sic] who took his seat in the United States Senate. Then came the wrangle over the admission of Texas to the Union. The most prominent candidate before Hannigan [sic] entered the field had pledged himself to vote against the measure. The bill for the admission of the State passed by a single vote and that vote was cast by Hannigan [sic.] Thus it may be said that the vote of a dying man in the wooded hills of Switzerland County, Indiana, made Texas a state and brought on the war with Mexico.



"As a comment on the above, Edward Hannegan (the correct spelling of his name), had he voted against the resolution would have tied not defeated it and thew issue would have had to be decided by the vote of the president pro tem, a Whig and presumably against annexation."



Therefore, it is and has always been my belief that each American has, not only the right, but also the duty and obligation to vote, regardless.

My Life and Times

I was born the eldest of four children to Martin and Eva Hilsheimer in Huntington, WV on St. Patrick's Day, 1944. I was conceived the night my dad learned his brother had been killed in an airplane crash in Australia. In fact, I was conceived on a train ("The train lurched", as Dad used to say).

Having spent the first ten years of my life in Huntington, I was thrilled, yet had some trepidation, upon learning we were moving to the Washington, DC area. Living in the Washington suburbs was a great place to grow up. For as long as I can recall, I have had an interest in American history and what better place to live and grow up? Not only did we make family excursions to the sites and museums, going on school field trips to such places as Mt. Vernon and Fredericksburg were always great adventures for a young boy.

We had lived in Alexandria for two years when Mom and Dad bought their first house in Woodbridge, about 20 miles south of Washington. While it was nice to have our own home, not so much could be said about the school system. Woodbridge was, at the time, still a largely rural area which was starting to develop. After attending Occoquan Elementary School in 7th grade, I then went to Gar-Field High School starting in the 8th grade. It was there that Mom started to have some questions about the adequacy of the school system and the folks started to think of moving back to a more established community.

It should be noted that, at these times, Mom was doing most of the parenting, as Dad spent his weeks working with the railroad industry in Chicago. He was only supposed to be in Chicago for a few weeks, but it turned into seven years. He got home on the weekends and was a full time dad when he was there. It was then that we had most of our family outings. One time which particularly stands out was when I was about 11 or 12 years old. We were at Lafayette Park, across from the White House, feeding pigeons when one of them landed on Mom's head and proceeded to poop on it. She wasn't at all pleased, but the rest of us got a big laugh out of her predicament.

We then moved to a newly-purchased house in Arlington, VA where I attended Williamsburg Jr High for the 9th grade and then on to Yorktown High School where I graduated in 1963. Although I did not realize the depth of my interest in history at the time, one of my favorite teachers was David Turner, my American History teacher in 11th grade. He paid me one of the highest compliments I have ever received. I was just plodding along, going through the motions, when we all had to do a term paper at the end of the school year. Not knowing what to do it on, for some reason, I chose the topic: "The Sharecropper During the Depression". We were having a year end review prior to the final exam when Mr. Turner told the rest of the class that he had read one of the finest examples of a term paper he had ever seen. While all were wondering to whom he was referring, he looked in my direction and said, "Mr. Hilsheimer, over there." To say the least, I was a bit overwhelmed and that comment changed my life.

Feeling that I wanted to be a Methodist minister, I had an epiphany and decided that I wanted to be a teacher and major in history when I got to college. While I never became a teacher, I did follow my leading and majored in history at North Carolina Wesleyan College. In fact, my interest in the social study of history bled over into political science and I came within only Senior Seminar short of having a double major in history and poli sci.

It was after my junior year at Wesleyan that Uncle Sam came after me in the form of a notice for my draft physical. We were living in the Chicago area at this time and, given the fact that the draft board in Arlington was looking in my direction and I did not have the GPA to be able to avoid the draft, I decided to enlist in the Air Force. I was first stationed at Patrick Air Force Base in Cocoa Beach, FL, then on to Saigon, South Vietnam and finally ended up at Charleston Air Force Base in Soth Carolina. Picking up a semster's worth of college work while in the Air Force, I returned to Wesleyan for the Fall, 1970 semester to finish my degree.

I should note that, while on leave between Patrick AFB and Vietnam, I married Pam Wherley, whom I had met at a summer job the previous year while working at Encyclopaedia Britannica Films in Chicago. We got married over her lunch hour by a judge in Chicago on June 15, 1967 and have been happily married ever since.

After my discharge in 1970, we moved to Wisconsin Rapids, WI where Pam lived with her folks while I finished my degree at Wesleyan. It was there that I started my career in insurance claims by working for a small independent insurance adjuster. I learned all about insurance from a grizzled old veteran, Marv Arndt and worked for him for the next 6 years, at which time I went to work for General Casualty Co as a Field Claim Representative.

It was during this period that Pam and I adopted our son, David, who was just over two years old at the time. David, who is mostly of Chippewa descent, was the pride of our existance and is still someone whom I consider (other than Pam) my best friend. We still talk (mostly sports) on a regular basis and enjoy each others' company.

Moving on to the Madison, WI area in 1980 with a promotion to Claims Examiner, Pam, David and I spent the next 26 years there. Even though I lost my job at General Casualty in late 1996, I was able, with the support of my family, to weather that storm and land on my feet, first of all as a Certified Nursing Assistant, and then later on as a Subrogation Specialist at Physicians Plus Insurance Corp. That job was outsourced at the end of 2000 and, so, I found myself on the outside looking in, once again. It was then that I landed a job as a Claims Call Center Rep at American Family Insurance Co., a job from which I retired in July, 2006.

I am presently residing in Bradenton, FL with Pam in the house she and her sister, Beth Kashner, inherited from their folks with Marian Wherley's passing on July 1, 2007.

Besides our son, David, our interests lie with his children, Matthew Farr, Lynnea Colbert and Evan Colbert. While we do not have the relationship with Lynnea and Evan which we have with Matthew, we do consider them a large part of our lives and feel truly blessed to have them as part of our family.