Unnecessary Parts?

During an interesting discussion recently, someone pointed out that I had pretty much been separated from most of my unnecessary bodily parts, those being tonsils, appendix, wisdom teeth, gallbladder, and uterus (after delivering two of the best kids in the world 😊).

As I recall all those events, I’m reminded of a lot of upheaval surrounding them. None were easy. All were unique experiences.

In third grade, my tonsils came out. I continually had sore throats and swollen glands so tonsilfinally the decision was made to remove those tonsils and, while they were in there, my adenoids. (What the heck is an adenoid anyway?) I remember the operating room – everyone and everything covered in green. This lady is putting something over my nose and mouth and telling me to breath and count backwards from 100. I began – 100, 99 . . . Ether took over. (Is that even legal anymore?) You remember the Bill Cosby sketch about him having his tonsils taken out? He was promised ice cream? Yep. Me too. But the throat hurt so very much, I didn’t even want to look at ice cream. It just didn’t seem fair to an eight-year old.

In ninth grade, it was my appendix. My BFF told a joke and made me laugh – the kind that one keeps laughing so much, causing one’s side to hurt. That hurt didn’t go away. A couple of days later the doctor decided to do exploratory surgery. I’m not sure it was appendixnecessary but, while looking around, they took out my appendix. I do have to admit though; the pain went away. In those days (a long, long time ago) I had stitches, temporarily held together by metal clamps. After six days in the hospital – SIX DAYS – the doctor said I was going home. He proceeded to cut off those metal clamps and told me to get up and get dressed. He and my mother went into the hall to wait. I stood up and immediately fainted. Fortunately, I landed on the bed. My roommate screamed for the doctor. This delayed my release for a few hours.

As a freshman in college, I was scheduled for wisdom teeth extraction during Spring wisdom teethBreak. This seems common at that age. Of course, mine were impacted and – again, in those days – I had an overnight stay in the hospital for the procedure. When I woke up, both corners of my mouth were slightly torn and there was a heaviness in my chest. I’m not sure but I could picture the doctor kneeling on my chest aiming pliers towards my mouth.

In my early thirties, I had a hysterectomy. This truly was the easiest – now using the laparoscopic technique.hysterectomy pic

Twelve years ago, in my mid-fifties, I began experiencing indigestion/ heartburn. This was new for me and began happening frequently, but it always went away. One day, six months after this began, I had a bout that didn’t go away. It became so bad that I was pretty sure I was having a heart attack. Instead of calling 911, I called hubby who was working 2 miles away. He came home and took me to the ER. I remember thinking – and I can visualize exactly where I was enroute – that I was ok with dying because I looked forward to being in Heaven with my Savior. But I silently prayed to God that I would not die while hubby was driving!

If you’ve ever been to an ER, you’ll remember seeing signs all over, “If you are having chest pains, inform the nurse immediately.” I did just that and was ushered in. Unfortunately, it was full so I was on a gurney in the hall of the ER. A mean old nurse, who I assume had much experience with fakers, pretty much didn’t believe me. But she did give me nitroglycerin and left to check my records. Her change of demeanor was amazing when she returned. I believe she checked and noted I had never been to an ER and had never reported chest pain anywhere. So now she believed me. But the nitro didn’t relieve my symptoms. I don’t remember all the tests that were performed but I do remember part of the heart cath. Lying there awake while watching on a screen a doctor insert something into my heart. He told me that my heart was as healthy as a teenager. (The only good news of the day).

After more tests, I was admitted. A surgeon was called and we waited and waited and waited. I was in such pain and not much was helping. At some point, I was given something to eat. When I was told the surgeons name who we were waiting for, it rang a bell. I didn’t know him personally but hubby did (from my church!) So, I told the nurse to page him again and to specifically mention my name. Sometimes it really is “who you know”! The surgeon apologetically showed up soon after. More tests were ordered and it was decided my gall bladder needed to come out. BUT because someone had given me something to eat, we needed to wait till morning. It was a very long night.

The doc determined he could probably go at it with laparoscopy which relieved me as I had experienced that with my previous surgery. I knew I’d be home in a day or two.

As it turned out, yes it was done laparoscopically but I did not go home anytime soon.

I still had major pain and more tests were ordered.kidney 2

The ER we went to was picked because my doctor was connected to that hospital. However, I found out she did not make hospital calls. She had a co-worker do that. One who I had never met. AND my surgeon went on a scheduled vacation the very next day after surgery. His partner was now on duty.

AND they disagreed. One thought I had developed pneumonia. The other said no.
I was in the hospital for SIX days!!!

I went home still in pain and was to see the original surgeon in 10 days. That dang pain finally subsided by then. We never really knew the cause.
That was twelve years ago – still way too vivid in my memory.

At least it’s always a good reason for new pjs and a bathrobe! 😊

Up next? er Out next?

A kidney.

Prayers greatly appreciated.

To be continued . . .

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition,
with thanksgiving,
present your requests to God.
And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding,
will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:6-7


That Dreaded MRI

The fact that I was informed that this time I couldn’t have an open MRI just confounded the issue. The open one was a challenge for me and my claustrophobia, but a closed one? Well, I’d never be ready. But there was no other option.

mriThe day of, I had been given a valium and instructed to take it one hour before the procedure. I did as instructed and arrived 45 minutes early (also as directed) to fill out the obligatory paperwork. I then sat down to wait, hoping the valium would be working any minute.

Not 5 minutes later I was called in. Hoping there would be about another 30 minutes of prep, I followed. Oh no, they were running ahead of schedule and were ready for me. That tightness in my chest I’m too familiar with commenced as I explained I needed to wait another 30 minutes for the valium to kick in.

The two attendants were kind as one told me usually valium works within 30 minutes. I was doubtful. The gals gave me a trial run through. As I lay on the table/bed, they slid me in. I lasted 2 seconds. They slid me out and we waited 5 minutes or so. As they hooked up my IV and offered music, I was pleasantly surprised. The other MRI at another facility didn’t have the capability of using music. Immediately I was listening to Laura Story singing ‘Blessings’. Quite appropriate for the occasion. headphones

The techs, thinking surely, I must be ready now, handed me the ‘panic button’(for emergencies only) and slid me in. Within 5 seconds, I panicked and hit that button. They pulled me out. “Please,” I begged sheepishly, “Give me 10 more minutes.” I knew by then the hour would be up and was hoping I had grown a backbone by then. The gals had no choice but to agree and left me to my own thoughts (and prayers.)

Of course, I came up with another delay as they returned. “It’s not critical,” I began. “But would it be too much of a deal for me to go to the bathroom first?” I was serious because there was this thing, part of the MRI, that had been resting on my stomach and I knew I’d have another problem if not taken care of.

I returned from the bathroom with a new attitude, no doubt partly from the valium finely taking effect, but also prayers – my own as well as family and friends who knew what a wuss I was. 😊

“Let’s get this done!” I said with a new feeling of confidence. Having already been told the test would last approximately 35 minutes, I calculated each song would last about 3.5 minutes = 10 songs. As they slid me in once again, I began counting on my fingers each song as it finished.

At nine songs, all was completed.

Piece of cake! 😊
panic verse


I experienced a delightful concert the other night. A granddaughter was in her first piano recital. She’s seven. I was so pleased and proud. I was also surprised because the two pieces she chose were duets with her teacher. reeseThat’s not an easy feat. I know. I’ve been there. More about that in a moment. . .

As I sat there watching her work those keys, I couldn’t help but remember another (probably the last) piano recital I attended. A junior member of our family at the time, maybe a bit older than my granddaughter is now, was preparing for a recital. The deal was the students were to play a piece for memory. Somehow the memory part wasn’t accomplished so she prepared a tiny “cheat sheet.” I’m not sure the teacher was aware of this before time and she obviously was not going to address it at that moment so up to the piano this gal went. She placed the little card, probably not bigger than a postcard, onto the music rack and began to play. She looked so pretty and so proper until   . . . the postcard fell to the ground underneath the piano. As all “professionals” know, the show must go on! So she kept playing, over and over, the same part until, not knowing how to end it, she just stopped.

I’m pretty sure I wasn’t laughing that day, but it really strikes me funny now. I brought it up to her recently and, yes, she remembered it all too well.

Back to my granddaughter playing duets with her teacher – I was so impressed because, as a child myself, I took nine years of piano lessons! It was NOT fun! My brother also took duet booklessons and my teacher had the idea that he and I should play duets. NOT a good idea. He was 20 months older than me and had an IQ way above mine – or so he always told me. He was the methodical legalistic one. I was the “play without rules” type. My mother cringed every time we sat on that dang piano bench together. She wasn’t the only one. My brother would count to the beat and I would “play with feeling”. Finally my mother put a stop to it as our practice sessions were more than she could handle. I will be forever grateful.

So seeing my granddaughter playing sweet duets with her teacher? I was happy because I was pretty sure she played with feeling. 😊


Don’t forget to order Papa, Where Are You?

Papa Where Are You – paperback and digital




Let’s Go to the Zoo

The weather was unseasonably pleasant and warm for the beginning of November in the Midwest. My brother was visiting from Florida to help celebrate my mother’s 94th birthday. Taking advantage of the weather, we three decided to go to the zoo, a favorite of my mothers. I figured my mother would need to work a scooter since she was only able to walk with a walker.

The day before, I needed to take my brother to the ER because of a serious problem with his feet – swollen and painful and barely able to walk on. Although he was improved, we decided that he, too, would need a scooter to ride on.

I was alone, with two disabled family members on scooters. I was outnumbered and I could envision all sorts of issues popping up throughout the day.

I called my friend Jean and asked if she’d like to go to the zoo with us. Of course, she saw through my invitation and, thankfully, was delighted to jump in and help.

We arrived and immediately rented two scooters.zoo4
Except that my credit card was declined! That’s a whole other story. Sheesh.
We used an alternative card and proceeded to give operation instructions to our two charges. As we began on our journey, my mother took off. I mean took off rapidly. There was no catching up so we just stood there, hoping she’d stop eventually. She did and looked around to see us way, way behind her. As we caught up, Jean adjusted her speed to slow. My brother meanwhile kept hanging back and circling around. I tried to keep my eye on him while Jean took charge of my mother, making sure she didn’t drive over any kids.
It actually was a lousy day for spotting the animals. It must have been siesta time.
But it was a pretty day and we four established a routine. Then mother spotted the train. She was always a softie for a ride. We obliged, not sure how this would work with the scooters. As it turned out, accommodations were made for one scooter on the train. Of course my mother was the chosen one. My brother’s scooter was parked and we agreed to ride the entire way around without getting off at any of the stops since we wouldn’t have a scooter for my brother.zoo2

Mother was treated like a queen! These guys (retired railroaders) put up special ramps and opened secret gates for her to enter. They then strapped her in. She rode right behind the conductor with my brother directly behind her and Jean and I in the next seat. Again, barely an animal anywhere! But fun, nevertheless.

Until. . .

First we went through a tunnel. I had a brief moment of panic but then could immediately see the daylight at the other end so was ok. Then, another tunnel. This time longer, with no daylight to see. My claustrophobia began to creep in. I closed my eyes and we emerged safely. As we then stopped at a station to let people on and off, I looked ahead. Another tunnel!

I deduced that if the first tunnel was short and the second tunnel was medium, then this tunnel must be . . . you get the picture.

Leaning over to Jean, I whispered, “I need to get off.” I don’t think she took me seriously at first until I pointed out the upcoming tunnel and told her I might punch someone if I go in there. So. . . she and I got off and told the others that we’d meet them at the end. That was not easy as there is no straight path at the zoo but we ended up there just as they were getting off. No one dared mention my phobia so we proceeded our zoo tour.

As we rounded the corner and passed over the railroad tracks, I noticed my brother not with us. Stopping to look back, I saw him sitting on his now very still scooter on the railroad tracks. I booked myself back to him. He said it stopped. It just stopped. I’m about to scream, “Don’t you know people can die like this? Car stopped on the tracks with a speeding train coming towards them?” I chose to keep my mouth shut since he didn’t give me a hard time about the train issue. We then pushed it off the tracks and flagged down a zoo employee. He used his walkie talkie to summon another one. zoo3While we waited, directly in front of the polar bear exhibit, there unbelievably, was an actual polar bear! The highlight of the day!

Back safe in the car for the ride home, my mother declared she had a delightful time and would like to go again sometime. Of course, she said, we didn’t need to take the train the next time. “Why,” I asked. “Because of your scardy cat baby girl?” “No, just because we’ve now done it.” She explained.
She was just being nice, but I appreciated the thought.

Under my breath, however, I was uttering “never again!”



IMG_0293My son recently arrived home safely from an awesome nine day trip to Ireland with his dad. My two friends arrived home safely from an equally awesome visit to England for 15 days. They were all kind enough to “take us with them” via pics on Facebook and I am delighted for all!

It does, however, remind me of another visit to England many, many years ago. It wasn’t me – it was my mother! My dad had a trip planned to Paris for business and they decided it was a chance of a lifetime so they made arrangements for my mother to fly separately and they would rendezvous in England.

It was my mother’s very first airplane ride and it was all the way from Philadelphia to England – by herself. My dad was flown curtesy of the federal government – his employer so my mother was on her own.

They, too, had a delightful time. I know from the pictures that were later developed and printed. There was no long-distance communication back then – no cell phones, no texting, no Facebook and international calls cost a small fortune. They were gone 3 1/2 weeks.

So while they were gone, there was the matter of what to do with the children – my two brothers and I. It was decided that my brothers would stay with my grandmother, aunt and uncle and cousin in New Jersey. It was the home where my mother was raised and they had a barn to play in, woods to explore and an attic full of treasures to find.

Me? I was farmed out to my aunt and uncle and three cousins (all boys) in Philadelphia. I was nine years old.

Did I mention my cousins where I had to live for 3 1/2 weeks were ALL BOYS?

Actually, at that point, all my cousins were boys, but these cousins were the type that we cringed when we knew they were coming over to visit. Not disciplined, loud and into everything. Apparently I didn’t get a vote and my mother had a mind lapse!

Suffice it to say I had a lousy time. 3 ½ weeks is a long time to be away from my family when you’re nine years old and it certainly seemed longer where I was staying. My cousins were put out because they all had to bunk together since I needed a room of my own. My uncle was the gruff type – used to relating to boys. I was miserable. My aunt seemed to be the only one enjoying the arrangement. She finally had a little girl living under her roof. Whoopee!

The oldest cousin was a year older than me and he basically did the hanging out with me. We could walk to the local movie theater so went one day to the matinee. It was a scary movie – to me. And I got so upset that I demanded to leave in the middle of the movie. That meant he had to leave too. He was quite angry with me. The other two boys were younger and a real pain in the ###. They teased and tormented nonstop. A lot of tears were shed in the confines of my bed during the night.

But my aunt was having such a good time. She bought me dresses and permgave me my first perm. You may remember those home perms in the 50’s? The ones where all your hair is put up in pin curls with bobby pins all over your head and then this stinky stuff is applied all over followed by a plastic bag to cover it all. And then you sit for what seemed like days feeling nauseous from the fumes and being teased by the boys. Sigh.

Finally the 3 ½ weeks ended – the longest most wretched 3 ½ weeks of my life!!! My aunt took me to the airport to pick up my mother. It was back in the day when we could actually go to the gate. Her plane arrived and the folks exited the plane on the tarmac – no fancy contraptions that go out from the gate to the plane door. I was at the window and my nose was peeled to the window. Finally there she was! THERE SHE WAS!!! I waved and waved. I could see her looking up but she didn’t see me!  She didn’t recognize me with my straight hair now all curly and with a new dress on! I think my aunt was a bit hurt that I was so excited at my mother’s return.

When she entered the terminal she spotted my aunt and then finally me.

She was bubbling and going on and on about her trip and her plane ride – all the way back to my aunt’s house and through dinner with them. I just wanted to go home!!!

We did leave eventually and I was so relieved. I imagine my cousins were too. But my aunt, she was sad.

Never again!

My mother is still apologizing. I’ve forgiven her but I haven’t forgotten! 🙂

Then my people will live in a peaceful habitation,

And in secure dwellings and in undisturbed resting places;

Isaiah 32:18

A Poem for Mother’s Day

mothers day poem1

mothers day poem2

Translation (using spell checker) 🙂 :

My Mother

My mother wasn’t a movie star – She wasn’t a chorus girl either; She wasn’t a bowling champ – and she wasn’t a nurse to give ether!

She doesn’t quarrel – she doesn’t fight. She doesn’t go out to play cards at night. Though we sometimes disagree with each other – why should I care? After all, she’s my mother!

(circa late 50’s probably)

Thanksgiving 2014


fitbitA dear friend gave me her Fitbit and when I asked her why she didn’t use it anymore, she merely shrugged and mumbled something. I think I figured it out.

 It doesn’t work!

I brought it home and diligently set it up – you know there’s an app for that! I dutifully entered my height, weight, goals, etc. When I went to bed each night, I tapped on it to enter “sleep” mode and each morning, re-tapped for “awake” mode.

The “sleep”mode was a bit confusing as it would tell me I had slept for seven hours and been restless for 2 minutes and awake for 1 minute. In fact, I would lie awake at night, staring at the clock for hours. I suppose I need to shake my wrist to let “it” know I’m not sleeping. But then, that exercise would not aid in my ever hoping to get back to sleep, unless it would wear me out!

The “awake” mode did not encourage me to move.

I was hoping, dare I say, counting on it to motivate me to move! It’s kind of like paying all that money each month to join a gym to motivate me to move. I have found that doesn’t work either!

I dreamed that it would tighten around my wrist every couple of hours to signify it was time to get moving. Or at least flash pretty warning lights if I had sat too long.

But alas, none of the above.

It’s just another guilt-producing-money-grabber. And then there’s the other folks in my life that wear one and see my infamous wrist band and nod knowingly. You know that secret nod that tells me what I already know – that it’s not working for them either but we will never share that info out loud as we are wearing a status symbol and, in doing so, looking good!

We are all nuts!

Oh I know it’s not really the fault of Fitbit. It’s just nice to blame someone/ something/ anyone other than myself! Reality bites!

pair of shoesI’ll keep in wearing it, for a while, and hope eventually I get with the program. My desire is first of all, to have a skin colored band so as not to be quite so conspicuous to others. And then, I’d like a timer on it I could not disable that would not quit until I’ve moved for at least 15 minutes straight, once per hour! Except while in the “sleep” mode, that is. 🙂 Or maybe, I could set it to call a friend to come knock on my door and say, “let’s go!!!”

Trains, Planes, & Automobiles (& the occasional Ping Pong Rifle)

LastScanBAs the only girl in the family and the youngest child, one would think I’d be pampered, spoiled and protected. Oh no. Not so. In fact, with two older brothers, I constantly was the object, or should I say target, of their (negative) attention. I’m sure anyone with older brothers, or probably younger ones too, can relate.

They had “boy” toys which I craved, if only to make a fair fight. The worst was their ping pong rifles. What were my folks thinking??? These were air-fire rapid-repeat rifles holding 5 or 6 ping pong balls (although it felt like quite a bit more).  I was THE moving target! How I longed for one of those or at least dreamed of destroying theirs. It would be pretty obvious who would have been the culprit so I kept that idea to myself. Then there were those toy paper-thin wood airplanes that you put together. Well, they put together, not me. They would assemble, then fly, aiming at me!

My brothers had the most awesome train set. My dad built the platform and it was truly to die for. Each had their own train – the kind that whistled and smoke came out of the stacks.  There were mountains, and lakes, and milk cars that really stopped to load and unload and crossing gates that really worked and and and…  The boys would play for hours. I watched. I was never allowed to play with those dang trains. The upside was that I always knew what to get them for Christmas:  something to add to their beloved train set.

They had erector sets and Lincoln logs and shiny guns with real leather holsters and all that oh-so-cool “boy” stuff.

Me? I had dolls. I’m not complaining about dolls. I loved dolls and played with them for hours. I still have a doll dresser and bed that has been handed down from generation to generation to generation. I cherish that.  So basically I had doll stuff and pretend kitchen stuff and dress up stuff.

But those trains. . . sigh.

For years, anytime we took a car trip, whether it was to church or the beach, the boys decided to use “manners”. “Ladies first”, they would always say, laughing as they each held open a back car door.  Therefore, I’d be stuck in the middle of the back seat in between them! Arghhhh. Finally, after years of that torture, my mother took up residence in the middle of the back seat.

If something wrong happened in our house, if a dastardly deed occurred and no one would admit to being the culprit, my parents would line us up and ask “who did it”? As if on key, both my brothers would turn and look at me and I would turn beet red; you know – that shade of “guilty, hand caught in the cookie jar” shade of red! Even if I had not been the perpetrator, I’d eventually admit to it because I had no recourse. No one believed me. I was doomed.

I’m sure this type of childhood helped shape me as a mother. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing, how I applied all of my knowledge and experience, but it’s too late now. I can assure you, however, that there was never a ping pong rifle in our home. 🙂

Dental Drill

Happiness is your dentist telling you it won’t hurt and then

having him catch his hand in the drill.

Johnny Carson

Going to the dentist on a Monday morning would not be my first choice, and yet there I was.  Truth be told, I’d been procrastinating for months but finally put my “big girl pants” on and made the appointment.

When they see me coming, they turn on the gas (Nitrous Oxide, commonly known as laughing gas).   Now to my recollection, I’ve not ever broken out in laughter, but it does do the trick on the relaxation part.  I need the gas just to get the Novocain!

Don’t get me wrong – I love my dentist!  She’s (yes, she is a she) has been my dentist for probably 25 years and is truly a friend.  But, on the other hand, she’s a dentist!  Ugh!  I was one of those growing up who, every six months upon going to the dentist, had 15 or so cavities!  How does that happen?  My brother thinks my parents were being ripped off; but I think it may have had something to do with well water.  Or maybe lousy genes!  At any rate, those days were pre-gas and I hated, HATED going to the dentist!

So last Monday I went in, sat down, and they hooked me up!  I was relaxing, feeling no pain, glancing at the TV.

All of a sudden, on the TV I swear I saw my son and daughter-in-law!  Seriously!  And then they were gone!

It was one of those mid-day local TV shows where they do blips on local places to visit.  At that point, they were showing a little story on a local art studio for kids and families, a hands-on-create-your-own art project place.

As I was being “gassed up” at the moment and it was a quick flick, I really wasn’t sure if I saw what I saw!  Surely my son would have mentioned if he had been filmed??  Obviously, I couldn’t pause and rewind as I am known to do in my own home!  So I waited.  I waited for the “gassing up”, I waited for the drilling, I waited for the “gassing down”, and drove home.

After texting my son about it, he informed me that over a year ago the family had all been in that shop and saw a TV camera filming and interviewing but not to them.  He never saw it on TV or the internet so assumed it was not televised.

Super sleuth that I can be, I went searching on the internet and finally found the story.  And yes, there they were!  I paused and rewound to my heart’s content!  I was going to attach it to this posting but wasn’t sure about “rights” and laws and such.  But suffice it to say, it was them!  I wasn’t hallucinating or dreaming!

As my daughter said, after I forwarded the blip to them, “it’s one more thing for their resume!”

And, AND I have a pleasant memory of a visit to the dentist! 🙂Image


A Matter of Perspective


It was one of those ice-breaker questions at some event I attended several years ago.  “What is your earliest memory?”

I quickly and clearly (or so I thought) recalled a story from when I was the age of two!  Later, I recounted the tale to my mother.

ImageIt began when we were at a beach somewhere on the Jersey shore.  I was with my mother, my older brothers, my two aunts and my cousin.  As we were playing in the sand, all of a sudden I realized my mother was not around.  So I promptly took off – as only a two-year old could do – and set out to find her.  Well, I found myself wandering around a parking lot.  I don’t remember being afraid, merely on a mission.

I’m not sure how long I had been gone, but a lady noticed me obviously unattended, took me by the hand, and walked me to the ranger station.  (God’s angels were working overtime  that day!)   It was quite a treat!  The rangers showered me with cool aid, cookies and candy.

Eventually my mother showed up.  I don’t know how she did it but she showed anger and relief all in one face!  It never occurred to me that I was in trouble.  I just knew my mother was lost and I went to find her!

My mother’s version (and apparently the correct one as she was older than me and had a more accurate rendition than that of a two-year old) was slightly different.

Yes, I was two!  At least I got that right! 🙂

No, we weren’t at the Jersey shore.  We were at Montgomery County Park.  For those in the St. Louis area, this is comparable to Carlyle Lake in Illinois.  In my defense, a big lake with a sandy beach, to a two-year old, looks like the ocean!

No, we weren’t with my aunts.  We were with two of my mother’s best friends.

I’m guessing but probably those best friends never forgot that day.  They were supposed to keep an eye on me while my mother went to use the facilities.  When mother came back and asked where I was, suffice it to say, all hell broke loose.  There was frantic searching in the water and on the beach.  Lifeguards as well as the park rangers were alerted.

Obviously no one realized how far and fast a two-year old could travel.  I was clear across the parking lot before the lady found me.

The Rangers in the station notified the Rangers on the beach.  I was safe.  My mother was found.  All was right with the world.   I couldn’t shake the feeling of being “watched” the rest of the day, though. 🙂