Who Is Your Hero?

My daughter came home from school a month or so ago and asked me a very interesting question "Who do you consider your hero?  And don't go for the easy answer, Mom.".  My first answer being all of our military and their families, as well as police and firemen, was nixed by the ten year old playing the college professor.  Judging by the serious countenance on my child's face, I guessed that Superman, Batman, and Spiderman, would be swiftly nixed as well.

My Hero

It was a simply worded question and yet it made me stop and think.  I know who my hero is, but can I adequately put into words what is in my heart?  I'm not sure, but I've decided to give it a go.

He was a spunky kid who would climb to the top of the highest object just so he could imagine himself flying.  Sometimes that meant he was climbing to the top of the telephone pole, nearly causing his mother heart failure.  And sometimes that spunk had him trying to coerce neighbor kids to put their tongues on the cistern pump handle in the bitter cold, much to his parents' chagrin.

He played sports in high school and according to his accounts, rode his bike through the mountains of West (by God) Virginia to school every single day.  Uphill...... both ways.  Through 6 feet of snow.  With a tenor saxophone on his bike's handle bars.  

High School Graduation

He joined the ROTC in college and, upon graduation, became a commissioned officer in the United States Air Force as a fighter pilot.  While he was stationed in Alabama going through training and "getting jets", he met a lovely young woman on base.  He attracted her because of his baby blue '59 Buick convertible and she attracted him with her cute looks and figure.  They were married 6 weeks later.  

The infamous '59 Baby Blue Buick Convertible

Within a few months of marriage, the newlyweds were stationed overseas with the 81st Tactical Fighter Wing at RAF Bentwaters, England.  He gave selflessly of himself to his country while he buried a number of his fighter pilot friends who crashed their fighter jets, including his best friend, while in service to their country.

One day in October of 1962, with Air Force base sirens sounding in the background, he called his wife and quickly informed her that the base had been put on full alert.  His fighter jet was loaded with bombs and he'd be sitting on the runway waiting for the green light to go and defend his country.

While he had enough fuel to get to his destination and do what his government commanded of him, he did not have enough fuel to get to safety, back to his base, or even to an area of land.  This was his farewell to her and their 2 young sons.

For nearly 2 weeks, he sat in his fighter jet at the end of the runway on full alert.  The jet engines were on and ready for take-off, the plane was fully loaded with bombs, just awaiting the go-ahead command from the big brass.  Thankfully the situation (the Cuban Missile Crisis) was resolved without him having to perform what would have been a suicide mission.

In 1963, his squadron's command was taken over by the indomitable Colonel (and later General) Robin Olds, who brought with him Colonel Daniel "Chappie" James, Jr. (who would later go on to become the first African American 4-star General in the Air Force).  The stories from this era are too numerous to write about in one blog post but suffice it to say that while there were a lot of missions flown during this time, as were as a lot of parties attended.

As a result of those parties, this hero came back to the United States with his lovely wife....... and 3 bouncing baby boys, each born less than a year apart.

Stationed at Reese Air Force base in Lubbock, Texas, this man began training young fighter pilots.  One of the parts of his duties left an indelible impression upon his heart.  That job was informing next of kin (wives) of the death of their fighter pilot spouse.

There are no words suitable to ever describe how terribly heartbreaking and life-changing this part of his job was.  To this day, he remembers each spouse's reaction upon seeing him walk up to their home or place of work.

While at Reese AFB, he was asked to join the prestigious USAF Thunderbirds.  It is a tremendous honor to be asked to join this elite fighter jet show team but, upon learning they were gone for most of the year, he declined.  Seeing his wife and 4 children took precedence over the fun he would of surely had performing breathtaking mid-air stunts.

He left the USAF in 1967 with a wife and 4 young children.  Yes, there was another party after they arrived in Lubbock, TX, which yielded him a daughter. Upon leaving the USAF, he went to work for a commercial airline as a pilot.



1st Officer

He and his family were stationed in Buffalo, New York.  The commercial airline pilot pay wasn't enough to support his family, so when he wasn't flying airplanes, he was substitute teaching to help supplement his income.  While there wasn't enough money to take his family out to dinner and to the movies, he created wonderful memories for his children by digging caves in the mountainous snow and having epic snowball fights.  

As his children grew, he was a beacon to them for doing what was right, not necessarily what was easy.  Even though he would be gone flying commercial jets for many days each month, which resulted in him missing many a birthday and holiday because of his flight schedule, his wife and children knew how much he loved them and they found creative ways to celebrate those days.

He was required to retire from piloting commercial airplanes in the United States at the age of 60.  Having flown most of his life, the transition to staying home every day out of the month was interesting for both he and his wife.  He was used to doing his own thing, and so was she, but they adapted.

His focus changed from studying airplane manuals and flight standards, to working on his golf handicap, doting on his grandchildren, and traveling around the world with his wife.

Today is this hero's 80th birthday.  Today I celebrate this man and all he has accomplished and all of the love he has so selflessly poured out onto those around him.  Today I celebrate my hero, my Dad.  Happy 80th birthday!  I love you more than there are stars in the sky and grains of sand upon this earth!

Written by Christie Bielss

The Grand Plan

I had it all planned out ahead of time. The weekend before Thanksgiving, my husband and son were to get all of the Christmas decorations down from the attic.  For once, my house was going to be that house where it was completely decorated and ready for the holidays by the time people were arguing over who gets to eat the turkey drumstick on Thanksgiving day.

In my mind I could see the beautiful Christmas tree in my front window, bright lights hung on the eaves of the house, and our Santa Claus yard sculpture lit up with a spotlight in the yard.  This year I even bought extra twinkle lights to string along the top of our fence.

Oh yes, my intentions were good and my hopes ran high.  Two weeks before Thanksgiving I sat my family down and explained the game plan. I wanted all  of the Christmas decorations brought down from the attic and for "Project Stun Santa" to commence.

"This year, we are going to be the house that's celebrating Thanksmas.  We aren't going to be the house where the boxes of Christmas decorations sit untouched in the living room until New Year's Day, when they are hauled back up into the attic.

No one will be complaining about stubbed toes from boxes sitting around helter-skelter or stockings not hung by the chimney with care.  For once, Santa isn't going to slide down the chimney, think we are moving and leave us packing paper and bubble wrap in our stockings.

No sir!  This year, Santa is going to be dazzled by our Christmas spirit and the amazing handcrafted decorations we replicate from "pins" we saw on Pinterest."

Oh what a grand plan!  And then........ life happened.  My husband got hurt and required surgery.  One kid came down with the flu, then another kid dropped to a tummy bug.  Then I came down with the flu.

The grand plan fell by the wayside and became the yearly pile of unopened plastic tubs full of Christmas decorations.  I think Santa finally figured out we aren't moving because this year he didn't leave packing paper and bubble wrap in our stockings........... he left Clorox sanitizing wipes and disinfecting spray.

Now, as I sit here with the new year staring me in the face, and new year's resolution ideas whirling around in my head, I have decided to make a New Year's Grand Plan.  I think I'll start with putting all of the Christmas decorations back in the attic......... it shouldn't take long since the only thing decorated is the tree.

Written by Christie Bielss

A Blast from the Past

I grew up in a time of bell-bottom pants, the peasant blouse, and the super-short hot pants. Wedge heels and gaucho pants were all the rage for the ladies. Men tottered around in platform shoes while wearing double knit polyester leisure suits. Yes, I grew up in the groovy 70s.

Photo courtesy of memecrunch.com

If a person wanted to look really hip and cool, he/she would carry a boombox on his/her shoulder while he/she strutted down the street to the beat of music from artists like The Village People, The Bee Gees, or Donna Summer.

Little did I know that shopping for a cell phone would take me back to those formative years.  Over the course of the past six months or so, the battery life on my cell phone has continued a downward spiral headed toward self-destruction.

In addition, my phone had been cutting out in the middle of conversations or other tasks that I was trying to perform (like playing on social media).  I didn't have enough storage space left to update to the newest operating system, which also started to cause major issues running apps on the phone.

Cutting a redhead off mid-sentence or crashing and losing everything in the middle of writing a blog post is dangerous to both man and machine.  The likelihood of this machine being smashed to bits with a hammer or run over by my car was becoming a very real possibility.

Even though the problems with my cell phone were driving me to the brink of insanity, I dreaded the idea of changing phones.  Even worse than the change of phones is the idea of having to go shopping for new technology.  Shopping for a cell phone ranks just below scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush on my list of enjoyable activities.  

But, the situation with my phone had become dire, so with an open mind and a pocketful of chocolate, I hit the stores.  I did decide to take my daughter with me so she could explain the latest technology at my level..... which is somewhere between the IBM Selectric typewriter and pencil/paper.

I told the salesman I would like a phone I could read without having to wear glasses.  Before I had time to blink, the salesman held up a Samsung Galaxy Note.  I smiled at him and told him it was very easy to read and it looked pretty, but I was really looking for a cell phone, not a tablet computer.

He looked at me as though I were daft and explained it is a cell phone "and so much more".  I pondered, apparently out loud, whether it would even fit in my handbag or if I'd have to switch to using a piece of rolling luggage just to carry it around.  The salesman rolled his eyes at this crazy middle-aged, unhip woman who was obviously over exaggerating.

Just as the salesman put the metal slab of a phone up to his ear, my daughter started to get a little wiggle as the store's intercom music started playing "Hot Stuff" by Donna Summer .  With that 70's inspired ghetto blaster of a phone pressed to the salesman's ear, the only thing missing in this scene was John Travolta dressed in a white double-knit polyester leisure suit striking a pose.  Whoop-whoop!

I tried but fell far short of containing my snort of laughter.  Smiling, he said "I'm guessing you prefer something a little smaller."

"Why yes, I do believe something smaller would be nice.", I said. "Something I don't have to wear hip-huggers and a halter top with would be marvelous.  I don't really want to be the next viral social media meme captioned 'Granny's got groove'....."

Written by Christie Bielss

When The Sucker Sucks

A few weeks ago while my kids were playing a video game together, I was doing a last minute vacuum of my kitchen floor in preparation to mop.  As I moved toward my kids and out of the kitchen, I suddenly smelled something burning.  My alertness peaked and I immediately started sniffing around like a bloodhound trying to catch on to a scent.

Shark Rotator Professional Lift-Away

Within seconds I realized it was something electrical which was about to catch fire.  I hollered for the kids to unplug their new game from the television, thinking it must be defective.  They moved quickly to comply in hopes of saving their new toy.

Even with the video turned off and unplugged, the burning smell not only lingered, but grew stronger.  It was at that moment when I looked down and realized it wasn't their game, it was my vacuum cleaner.

I moved quickly to unplug this firetrap of a device as the thought of researching and having to pick out the right vacuum cleaner made me break out in a cold sweat.  After all, we stay-at-home moms are judged on the depth of carpet pile pulled up and the straightness of our vacuum cleaner lines in our carpet.

Off to the land of Google search I went.  Several hours later with descriptions of vacuum cleaner attachments and allergen output bouncing around in my head like a ping-pong ball, I decided on a vacuum.

Wouldn't you know that it was sold out of every single store in a 20 mile radius.  I had to order it online and wait 5 days for it to be shipped to my house.  I went through Walmart.com and was thrilled with how quickly they shipped the order out.  I even ended up getting it a day earlier than the scheduled delivery date.

I pulled what felt like 20 pieces of vacuum cleaner parts out of the box and slowly assembled the Eureka SuctionSeal Bagless Upright.  With the word "SuctionSeal" in the name, I was loaded with great expectations of this vacuum being able to suck up a basketball from 100 yards away.

Eager to see how this new vacuum would perform, I immediately plugged it in and began to vacuum.  After finishing the family room, I immediately moved to the living room and vacuumed it.  When I was done and before I switched it "off", I looked down at the see through bagless collection canister.  There was a decent amount of dirt and pet hair rolling around inside of the collection bucket.

While leaning over watching the yucky gick dance around, I pushed the handle upright.  This particular motion caused the hose to let go from the collection bucket and spray the contents all over me and the room.  "Seriously?! What the heck?!" I yelled.  I looked down at myself and realized I looked like a monster that crawled out of a Sci-Fi movie.

I got out the directions and reassembled the hose piece, turned the vacuum back on and vacuumed myself off, along with the carpet.  I pushed the arm of the vacuum back up and like a skit from "I Love Lucy", the contents of the collection bucket blew all over me again!  "Sassafrassing-mumble-grumble, good thing I'm not Catholic or I'd be saying Hail Mary's for the next 10 years mumbles.........."

It was at that precise moment my husband walked in the door from work.  He stopped in his tracks, looking at me with a stunned expression on his face, as a large ball of dog hair and dirt sat on my shoulder like a parrot. 

"Don't.Even.Ask..........", I said.  He put his head down, quickly walked past me and headed to our bedroom.  He didn't quite make it past me before the chuckles and laughter could no longer be contained.

I dusted myself off and back to Google I went........ with a new technical design requirement for any vacuum I chose.  After many more hours of searching Google and looking at photos, I selected a couple of vacuums to go try out in-person this time.

Off to our local Sears store I went (they let you actually use them there), with my husband in-tow to help give technical guidance.  At the store, I was able to see and touch the vacuums I had chosen and immediately nixed every single one of them from the list.

I was frustrated and ready to throw in the towel when a sales woman came over and asked what I was looking for.  I listed out my requirements.  She knew her vacuum cleaners and expertly guided me to the 2 vacuums which met my needs.

It was a tough call because the vacuum I really liked was double what we had budgeted to spend.  But, as my husband kindly reminded me, a good vacuum is worth the extra expense since it is used a LOT in our home.  And by hitting the sale and using coupons we received, it wasn't that much more than the other vacuums I'd been looking at.

So, I did it.  I bought the Shark Rotator Professional Lift-Away vacuum and brought it home.  Assembly took less than 5 minutes. 

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, I was vacuuming.  This vacuum has so much suction, it's almost self-propelled!  Oh, how my heart went pitter-pat.

The attachments are a housewife's dream as they extend and change out at the touch of a button.  The amount of pet hair and dirt this vacuum got out of my carpet and off my hard floors was absolutely beyond belief.

My mother told me that at some point in my married life, something like this would happen.  I didn't want to believe her.  I figured that what she told me had to have been out of the dark ages, and I'm a mom of the 21st Century.  

But today it happened.  Today I can say she was right.  Today, I fell in L.O.V.E. ...........with a corded appliance.  I am now filling out my warranty card.  It feels much like a marriage license and as soon as I complete it, I know me and my Shark will be connected ...... until death do us part.

Written by Christie Bielss

When Nature Calls

Maybe it is from my childhood years of being a tomboy, or maybe it's just a genetic trait, but I love being out amongst nature.  Whether it's looking at snow-capped mountain tops, ocean waves rolling in at high-tide, or a bird cleaning itself in a bird bath, I love it all.

Tree branches sway in a gentle breeze like nature's ballet and calm my nerves faster than a day at the spa.  Tree leaves dance on soft drafts of air with movements so graceful they are mesmerizing.  The sun's ray shining through the leaves and branches of a tree are enchanting and cause me to search for a fairy dancing around in the glittery light.

The quiet pattering of rain drops on the roof and the low murmuring rolls of thunder are calming to my soul.  The stillness of a gentle rain is so peaceful you can almost feel it nurturing the trees, plants, and earth with its life giving force.  I love sitting outside on a porch swing watching the rain transform nature into deep beautiful colors right before my eyes.

I marvel at birds who are able to sing beautiful songs they compose themselves.  With a song in their heart, they sing with great abandon as the sun breaks the horizon in the morning.  I'm also envious of their ability to soar with wings spread wide on updrafts of wind with seemingly carefree abandon.

With boundless energy, squirrels chase each other around the yard.  Watching them is almost like being at the circus, without the creepy clowns.  Their feisty personalities allow them to run at breakneck speed and fling themselves from tree to tree with little fear of falling.  They seem to enjoy teasing each other with their crazy acrobatic moves.

But, when those squirrels start digging in my flowerbeds and flower pots, or try to chew a hole in the side of my house to get in the attic, my love of nature ends and my own redheaded nature comes out.  Chasing after them with a broom, or winging a bb close by their furry little bodies, will generally get them to reconsider their current activity.

When those two options fail, I send out our dog.  While last year we were surprised that our dog had no problem sharing our yard with squirrels, this year she apparently isn't feeling that same love.  Last fall, the squirrels taunted her mercilessly by dropping acorns on her head while she sunned herself in the grass and she seems to still be harboring a grudge against them.

This year she's decided they are just a bunch of bushy-tailed tree rats who are invaders of her territory.  Being a mixture of Border Collie, Italian Greyhound, and Jack Russell Terrier, she is a lightning fast runner.  Without reducing her speed, can cut corners with great skill and she can jump vertically up a tree a good distance, much to the dismay of the squirrels.

The first time she took off after one of the squirrels, it was like watching a cartoon.  The squirrel had a look on its face of "EEK! What the *#@*?!!!", while our dog had quite the Clint Eastwood determined look of "Go ahead, make my day.".  The squirrel, in complete shock and running for its life, had to make several laps around our yard in ever-widening circles before it was able to jump up a tree.  The squirrel quickly scampered high up into the tree while our dog plopped herself back down in the grass, happy in the knowledge that she'd made her territory secure......... and gotten even just a smidge.

There are so many different aspects of nature which can appeal to just about every personality.  Turn off the tv and the cell phone, and get up from the computer.  Go sit outside, take a walk, go to the park, or open a window.  Enjoy what's been put before you and allow it to restore and rejuvenate you.  And don't forget the bug spray because while there are many enjoyable and lovely parts of nature, fly and mosquito bites are not one of them.

Written by Christie Bielss

The Intervention

You may be wondering why I've started a blog when there are over 160 million people with blogs already.  Well, as the title of this post says, there was an intervention of sorts.

Last Tuesday, as I'd finished putting a coat of primer on half of our kitchen cabinets while my husband was trying to carry on some philosophical discussion, there was a knock on our garage door.  My husband stopped rambling and got a bit of an odd look on his face.  I looked over at my son who was playing in the leftover paint while our other child was giving the dog a bath, so it couldn't be either of them.  Who on earth was knocking on our garage door?

To my great surprise, my parents were stopping by after having a late lunch.  I thought they were coming to see the progress on our kitchen renovation.  I was wrong.  They were interested in the renovation but they really had an ulterior motive - they wanted to have a "discussion".  That's usually never a good thing. 

A million thoughts immediately ran through my head - none of them good.  All of those thoughts had to do with everyone else and involved illness, injury, or something someone had done wrong.  But all of those thoughts were for other people, not for me.  Why, it couldn't possibly be about me because my halo is usually just above my head and fully visible.......ok, so there is the rare occasion when the halo is held up by my horns, but there's a halo nonetheless..... ok, so the horns protrude on a regular basis but I'm the baby of the family, I could not have possibly done anything wrong. 

And then the words came out "We've talked with your brother (I won't name him here on the blog but he knows who he is) and he thinks you are like the Erma Bombeck of Facebook.".  Say WHAT?!!  What the heck does that mean?!   Is being called the Erma Bombeck of Facebook a good thing or is he calling me names like a bratty kid? Thoughts started racing through my mind.  My daughter, who was as wet as the dog and covered in so much dog hair I was having difficulty differentiating between which one of them was the human and which was the canine, was asking for help trying to dry the dog.

Then, as I noticed my son occupying himself by painting himself white with the last dregs of paint, the next punch came, "We all think you should be writing and should really think of compiling your current writings into a book...... but at the very least you should be writing a blog".  And before this sentence had even had time to sink in, my husband jumps in on the bandwagon and says he's been telling me to do this for a couple of weeks but hasn't convinced me.

So this is why the normally quiet and reserved man who is my husband was suddenly verbose and could talked the ear off a billygoat.  Oh yeah, you think I can't see those horns holding up the halo which just magically appeared Mr. I've-been-trying-to-convince-her-for-weeks-now?!  

And who are these people?  Have aliens come and taken over the bodies of my family?  Throughout my high school and college years, my parents would critique my writings as not being meaty enough.  My husband has always said I was too wordy and that I need to be more concise.  And now, out of the blue, these aliens are banding together telling me they like my writing?  And my youngest brother was in on this too?!

I was having some difficulty processing all of this and had to ask "So, when (insert my brother's name here) said I was the Erma Bombeck of Facebook, is he saying I need to quit rambling and that I'm sharing things I shouldn't?  Am I being one of those people?!".  "No" they said, "he thinks you're funny but need a better format to write, such as a blog, and that you should go after it.".  Go after what?!!

Well, I'd never thought much about writing other than it was my 2nd most favorite things to do when I was in school, with my most favorite being high school marching band in 110 degree heat with a wool uniform on, sweating until I thought my entire body had become completely devoid of all liquid matter and the sun had incinerated my brain.  (I really did love marching band though.)

For 15 minutes, as I cleaned the paint off my son and de-dog-haired my daughter, they hounded me until I finally agreed to think about it.  As my parents were leaving, my Mom said she'd think up a name for my blog while my husband interjected that he had already come up with a name for my first book - which, by the way was really funny.  "Y'all are just plain nuts", was my reply to all of this hullabaloo.  But, I had pacified them somewhat by agreeing to think on it and would let them know in a few days. 

In those few days, my husband continued to be "supportive".... for my parents idea.  I decided to shoot off an email to my brother to say "Hey Mr. Instigator!  Have you lost your marbles?" - to which came the ever-so-brotherly reply which pretty much said "shut up and do it".  Nothing like family to cut to the heart of the matter.

After a couple of days of thinking it over, I ran the family's idea past some friends who I thought I had stacked the deck with and would back me up and say "yeah, there are 100+ million blogs.  It's a waste of time".  To my shock (and utter dismay ....... and then fear!) they said "Do it!". 

So, after a couple more days of contemplating the pitfalls of writing and how stupid I could sound, I figured, oh what the heck!  I probably already sound that way to all of my friends and they still talk to me and acknowledge me in public, I guess I can try this whole blogging thing. 

So there you go.  That's my "short" story of how this blog came to be.  Maybe if this goes well, we can even make this into a reality show................ we could call it "The Looneys"........

by: Christie Bielss