Thursday, August 27, 2009

Tired Sea-Dog Makes Landfall

Bill arrived safely in St. Louis last night. He sounded understandably exhausted, especially after being sandwiched in the middle of the back row, between two moms and five pre-school children on the last flight from Denver--he says it's always a bad situation when the kids outnumber the grown-ups! But he's stateside at last, and I expect I will be seeing him around the middle of next week.

Today he is hoping to meet up with his dad at the VA hospital, and have a chance to talk to the doctors who are directing his care. On Monday, Dad will have a CT scan, and a decision will be made as to whether chemo will or will not continue.

Bill is also going to discuss whether his father is well enough to travel to Austria to look up his "cousins." Bill's grandfather immigrated to the U.S. as a child in the early 1900s, but no one knew where he came from until Bill found the region and the geneology records on the internet a few years ago. His dad's desire is to go to Austria before he dies, and Bill is going to try and make that happen. Their tentative plan is to fly to Munich, Germany, then rent a car and drive to the southeastern corner of Austria, and meet as many Pliemitschers as they can (the spelling was changed upon entry through Ellis Island). Bill's dad didn't know much about his own history until very recently, as his immigrant father died when Bud was only 9 years old.

While I'm not thrilled about Bill leaving again soon, I think this trip is a great idea for both of them, if Bud is well enough to travel. It has certainly given Bud something to look forward to, while he has been battling his cancer.

On the home front, the container garden is winding down. The last of the tomatoes are being gnawed on, the bean plants have been completely consumed by critters, and the corn patch similarly descimated--some large chewing machine has knocked down most of the stalks and nibbled on the barely-formed ears. Oh well. It was a dubious experiment from the beginning. I am getting accustomed to having my hopes of fresh home-grown produce dashed by the hungry hordes of the forest. I guess I'm just going to have to move up the food chain and eat the creatures who ate my garden.

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