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When we lived in Mooresville, North Carolina, we enjoyed day trips to Blowing Rock, elevation 4,000 feet.  What a gift to leave 90 degree weather and enjoy the crisp, cool air of higher elevations.  Since we moved to Cary, we’re now three hours away,  too long for a day trip.

We recently planned a two-night trip with reservations at The Village Inn.  While the temperature back home was in the 90’s, we arrived to cool temps and low humidity.  We hiked at Bass Lake, ate at the Storrie Street Grill and then went to our motel to check in. I walked into the office and did a  double-take.  This was the room where I broke my hip 15 years ago.

As part of the 60th birthday celebration for Aloma, Pam and Priscillia, we booked rooms in The Village Inn.  The others had either gone shopping or were in their rooms after lunch so I went to this common room - part library, part TV room.  I read for awhile and then decided to go back to our room.  I never made it.  I didn’t notice the step down (only about eight inches), lost my balance, and instead of falling, I tried to get my balance by hurrying forward.  I struck the edge of a huge chair and fell.  I knew immediately my hip was broken.

I lay there for 30 minutes, first calling out softly for help then finally yelling “HELP” as loud as I could.  A man finally heard me, came in and I gave him our room number.  Aloma arrived and immediately took charge, calling 911.  I was taken by ambulance to a hospital in Boone and operated on that night.  My hip was not only broken, but displaced.  The surgeon put it back together using deck screws (my words) and two months later I was fine.

The common room is now the office and the small step now has a ramp and two large signs that say, “Watch Your Step.”  I guess I had something to do with the new safety features.  Our room needed to be checked so I talked with the desk clerk while we waited and told her my story.  She was mildly interested.  She must have been in grade school when it happened.

After the clerk gave me the key to the room and I was leaving, she yelled, “You be careful.  I’m going to be watching you.”

Our two-day trip turned out to be perfect - good weather, good food and good hikes,  though not as long as 15 years ago.

And I was careful.

Seasoned Man

stevelem117@gmail.com

Tom Perkins - R.I.P

I met Tom Perkins soon after we moved to Mooresville, NC, almost 22 years ago.  His wife, Priscilla,  Aloma and Pam K discovered they were the same age and their birthdays were within two weeks of each other.  They became close friends - and so I got to know Tom.

Tom was from Oklahoma but worked for years in New York City in commercial real estate, a tough and competitive occupation.  He was up to it.  Tom could be crusty and hold his own against anyone.

Tom loved football, especially Oklahoma football.  If conversation lagged, all it took was to ask Tom about Oklahoma’s prospects, and he would talk for 15 minutes.  Most years, he would attend a Oklahoma football game.

I would not stereotype Tom as a typical Oklahoman,  He didn’t look like he could plow the north 40 or play defensive tackle for Oklahoma or Nebraska.  Tom was short, a nappy dresser and direct with his speech with no midwest drawl.

My best memories are when the three birthday girls and husbands plus three other couples would gather for dinner, usually at Tom and Priscilla's home.  We would sit around their large dining room table, having a few glass of wine, while Tom and Priscilla would entertain us with stories.  Tom’s were usually about Oklahoma, including stories about his grandfather who was a trick shot artist.  We would laugh so hard that my face hurt the next day.

When our grandson, Jack, was five years old, Laura, Tom and Priscilla’s daughter, positioned him in the water with Tom’s beginner water skis while Tom readied the boat.  Jack shot out of the water and never fell.  Jack, now 12 years old, remembers Mr. Perkins and that day in detail.

An era ended two years ago when we moved to Cary, Pam and Bill moved to Chapel Hill and Tom and Priscilla moved  to an assisted living community.

Tom, I will always miss you and never forget your stories.

Seasoned Man

stevelem117@gmail.com

Writing

As many of you know, writing is one of my hobbies.  I read years ago that  it’s helpful to start a hobby as you age that’s new and something you’re not too good at - something that requires learning.

Well, I never was a good writer, but I did keep a journal for years and enjoyed making entries.  I joined a writer’s group in Mooresville and wrote short stories, then novels.  So far I’ve published (self-published)  four novels.  Two are historical fiction and two are sci-fi novels.

I’m pleased that I write better than when I started; I got a huge amount of satisfaction when I published my books, but it’s good that I didn’t quit my day job - if I had had one.  While I received positive comments about my two sci-fi books, sales have been disappointing.  My latest book, “Star Song: The Mystery of the Sphere”, published in March, 2016 is near the bottom of the Amazon’s bestseller list.  That’s not too good.

Oddly, the book about the orange groves in Citra, Florida, where I grew up, have outsold the sci-fi books by many times.  After several years, I still get deposits in my checking account from Amazon, mostly from the Turkey Grove series.

What’s next?  I ended Star Song in a way to support a sequel and have actually gotten emails suggesting storylines for the sequel.  But that’s going to have to wait.

My next project is the final Turkey Grove book - “Farewell Turkey Grove.”  I started it several months ago and I’m enjoying the research and recollections from the past.  I expect it’s about a year away from publication.

Check out my website:  lemasterswordware.com.  All my books are listed with a link to Amazom.com and my blog.  If you do read one of my books, please write a review.  Reviews sell books.

Seasoned Man

stevelem117@gmail.com

Good Night - Be Quiet

I am sure that I’m the only newlywed who after working all day, coming home to mow the grass, then doing another hour of work that I brought home from the office and finally getting in bed exhausted at 11:00 p.m. knowing the alarm would go off in seven hours, my wife wants to talk.

I would do my best to keep my eyes open while Aloma talked while hoping she wouldn’t expect me to respond.  “Did you understand what I just said?” she would ask.  I would say ‘yes’ before falling asleep.

One night Aloma was especially interested in talking about her day and asking how my day went.  I was too tired to respond so I said, “Good night.  Be quiet.”  She was so shocked I didn’t hear another word from her that night.

But I did the next day.  “Do you realize what you told me last night?”

I said I couldn’t remember.

“You told me, ‘Good Night - Be Quiet.’”

I thought I was in big trouble, but she laughed.  “I was so shocked I had to think about it, then it hit me as funny.  I laughed but you were already asleep.”

‘Good Night - Be Quiet’ became one of our code  words.  It could be said anytime, in public or in private and the other person knew what it meant - shut up.

Two hours after my pacemaker was installed, Aloma sat in the comfortable recliner in my hospital room.  I was still loopy and talking nonsense.  She closed her eyes and said,  “Good Night - Be Quiet.”

I knew everything was going to be okay.

Seasoned Man

stevelem117@gmail.com