Are You Presbyterian?

An odd question from a gentleman I had just met in the locker room at my local gym. Adjacent lockers force you to get acquainted quickly, since at any moment you’ll find yourself in various stages of dress or undress. Might as well break the ice with small talk.

But my religion?

Being a gentleman, and curious, myself, I politely answered his with one of mine.

“Presbyterian”?

“No, Congregationalist, however, still under the Protestant tent.”

“Why do you ask?”

His bemused look was quickly followed by a benign smile, as the proverbial light went on in his head.

“Pescatarian! Pescatarian! Fish eaters!”, he repeated, obviously recognizing that my light was barely flickering.

“Are you one?”, he asked, again.

Nothing makes you feel older, and might I say, dumber, than someone repeating themselves, in a louder voice, accompanied by a blunt definition.

The verbal faux pas stemmed from our impromptu discussion about food and exercise. Apparently, my flippant comment about avoiding deep fried foods, fish & chips, for example, confused him.

Clarification followed when he declared himself a vegitarian and pescatarian, explaining that a pescatarian is someone who eats fish as the only meat source in an otherwise vegetarian diet. Apparently, he thought we were kindred spirits.

No, I’m not a pescatarian, nor a vegetarian. I enjoy meats, occasionally but generally avoid the red ones.

However, it’s not the first time I’ve misunderstood words from casual conversations. And it seems to be happening with an uneasy frequency.

“Do you think you need a hearing aid”, she asks. Yes, the same ‘she’ who calls out my other shortcomings, the queen of common sense, my wife of 55 years.

My audiologist also reminds me that I am a candidate for a hearing aid if I felt the need. I’ve yet to find the need. A hearing aid wouldn’t help conversation spoken from opposite ends of the house. Five decades of being together, we pretty much know what the other is going to say, anyway. Hence, we talk less and economize on words.

However, I would like to hear the ‘expert’ conversations in the sauna. There, on any particular day, someone will be holding court on the best grilling method, the latest medical advice, which vitamins to take and what investments will pop during a new administration. Now that might be the incentive to push me into getting fitted for a device.

As for my new locker room friend, I’m just thankful that he didn’t ask me if I was ‘presbyopia’. I wouldn’t have seen that one coming.

Steve

December 2024

What’s In Your Daily Planner?

What’s in your daily planner?

Be it Franklin, Moleskin, Lemome or one of the myriad of other planners, whatever you use for daily reminders, do you have a page devoted to a verse, message, picture or quote that inspires you to kick start your day?

I had these three messages taped to the front page of my planner for years, as I went about my sales chores. They weren’t the only impetus behind my ‘get up and go’. But they, along with others I kept, helped remind me of the dedication required and purposefulness of my work.

We’re surrounded by messages that help drive us and focus our energies, aren’t we. One sees them in books, posters, billboards, locker rooms.

The exit to my Army barracks had a message that’s been attributed to former auto exec, Lee Iacocca…

‘Lead, follow or get out of the way’

The barracks version was a little ‘saltier’, I recall. Seems an appropriate message for a military environment, or anyplace that invokes a team mission.

Shakespeare’s Hamlet has one of the best messages…

‘To thine own self, be true, then it shall follow, as night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man’

Great advice from a father to his son, but then, Shakespeare was good at using his work to give advice. I find this message helps remind us of our own ethics as we set course on our daily business.

Sales people are likely drawn to quotes, I believe, because their work is filled with ups and downs, highs and lows, negativity, as well as positivity. Starting thé day with a few poignant words might be the magic one needs to go after the challenge…

‘Unseen and Untold is Unsold’

The success of the mission is the burden that often saddles itself on the salesperson’s shoulders. The above words clearly make that point and drive the individual to succeed. And the following shows the importance of sales and salesmanship…

‘Nothing happens until something is sold’ (author unknown)

The author may be unknown but the message makes so much sense. The powerful image this creates is palpable. The successful salesperson is the machine that keeps the wheels of industry from grinding to a screeching halt. Think about it for a moment.

Do you doubt that words can propel people to act?

‘Never give up! Never!

Great Britain’s Prime Minister Winston Churchill gave hope and courage to a nation with those few words. During WWII.

‘Nuts!’

This was the reply of General Anthony McAuliffe to the overwhelming German force at the Battle of The Bulge in 1944. His smaller force kept up the fight and repelled the enemy. Words.

Again, what’s in your daily planner?

Steve B

Aug 2021

Sometimes It’s Diamonds, Sometimes It’s Paint 💕, A Love Story…..Story #5

Finally, the day for lovers and my 5th and last story for the occasion. Happy Valentine’s Day and think about the idea I’ve offered here

Honestly, it’s never diamonds. Perfume, maybe, but not diamonds. Oh, there was a diamond engagement years ago and another one at our 25th, but that ‘streak’ ended there, years ago. Nowadays, prudence, practicality and pocketbook influence my choices..

So, this Valentine’s Day I gave a gift that satisfied all three criteria, the gift of color. I painted a bathroom for my wife, and, not surprisingly, it was one of the best gifts I’ve given over the years. She raved about it and appreciated my work and the new look. As pleasant as that sounds, it’s an unflattering commentary on my gift giving skills. I’m terrible at it.

However, I’m a good painter, it’s in the genes. My immigrant grandfather established himself as a ‘master’ painter. He begot three boys who continued the trade. The line of succession produced more sons, yet, who donned the white overalls, joined the union and called themselves ‘journeymen’.

You see, while ‘diamonds are forever’ (who wears out a diamond?), paint jobs are actually meant to be replaced. Colors fade or fall out of fashion. The painter gets the opportunity to ‘regive’ the paint job, a ‘do over’, if you will.

“Hey, honey, I repainted the bathroom. How’s it look? And, Happy Mother’s Day!”

“Looks great, dinner is ready”, she shouts from afar. “You slug…”, is the unspoken word you don’t hear because she has resigned herself to the age-old mantra, ‘it’s the thought that counts’. But we all know this about marriage, ‘what you do or don’t do now will be used against you later’.

As I was reminded recently, disagreements, arguments and shortcomings are all part of the bonding process in marriage, no matter how long the union, decades in our case.

But, I digress. There are more gift giving opportunities on the horizon. The bedroom sounds appropriate for our wedding anniversary. And the hallways for her birthday. Oh, I just know she’ll love it. Everyday will seem like a birthday as she walks through the house, admiring the colors, reminding her of just how old she is. Hmm, I should rethink that one. Then there’s Christmas, maybe a brightening up of the guest room would be a hit.

Yes, diamonds are pretty; pretty impressive and pretty expensive. So, gentlemen, heed my advice. When the time comes, give the gift that is bold and beautiful, that tells her how much you love her. Give the ‘gift that keeps on giving’ and is cheap, the gift of color…PAINT SOMETHING!

Steve

Originally February 2016

Scarves, A Love Story 💕…Story #4

Scarf

So warm, this knitted scarf: a treasure beyond worth, that hides within each woven stitch her heart.*

Winter winds blow cold in western New York, especially along the icy shores of the easternmost Great Lake, Ontario. And, while the calendar tells us the dates for ‘old man winter’, Mother Nature determines when it really begins and ends. In these parts, that can be anytime from November thru March, five long months, not three.

Even April has been known to harbor cold winds and wet snows.

Combating those elements and keeping the chill at bay becomes a daunting seasonal challenge. This winter I’m meeting that challenge head on, or should I say, ‘neck and shoulder’ on, with some degree of success. How?

SCARVES!

Not just any scarf, mind you, but homemade scarves, in a variety of colors, sizes and designs, patterns, as they’re called.

Scarves long enough to cross in front and drape down, keeping my torso warm, or scarves to wrap thickly around my neck as an even stronger barrier against the weather. Scarves that are a bit wide and can be converted to a shawl, a ‘man shawl’.

And it goes without saying that while these scarves are functional, keeping the elements out and the warmth in, they are a fashion statement, as well, not that I’m concerned about looks. But who doesn’t mind occasional flattery, some ‘oohs and aahs?

These scarves, a dozen by count, are knitted by my wife as a hand therapy exercise. I’m the beneficiary and each time I wear one, which is daily, it may be cold, but I feel wrapped in a layer of love, something else to keep me a bit warmer.

Mother Nature may win the war, as she often does, but with the help of my scarves, I occasionally win a battle.

Do you have a favorite scarf? Tell me about it. And stay warm…

Steve (030923) (021226)

Love On The Sidewalk 💕…Story #3

This is the third story that I previously wrote about love. Appropriate to repost now as we approach Valentine’s Day. Enjoy!

It happened in a most awkward way, as love is wont to do. A thrown kiss, a wink, a wave and a look of expectation that it would be returned. But I would have none of it.

Alas, my misguided ego momentarily led me to believe that I was the target of the young gentleman’s affection, when, in actuality, I was caught in a crossfire, a crossfire of love, playing out on the sidewalk of my favorite coffee shop in the town center.

But it was over as quickly as it happened. The February breeze carried the romantic gesture past me to the attractive young woman at my back, the target of his affection. Her reply mirrored his, lovingly thrown back. I stepped aside and let it pass, unbroken.

Not a word was spoken between them but it was obvious by their flirtatious comportment, this was unabashed love, love on the sidewalk. And it was on display for anyone to see. I saw it because I’m an observer of people, especially those who blow kisses my way, albeit, inadvertently.

It’s winter in western New York and with that comes a string of cold temperatures and depressing cloudy skies. It can be overbearing. Today, however, the air was warmer, the sun was filling the sky and moods changed. Gaiety filled the air. And there was love, love on the sidewalk.

The humorist in me wanted to ask if the kisses were meant for me, but I bit my tongue and held back. Why spoil a good street performance with a silly annoyance.

Valentine’s Day is upon us. Love sightings will abound. Will you observe them?

Happy Valentine’s Day to lovers everywhere…

Steve (Feb 14, 2023)

Love On The Veranda 💕…Story #2

This is the second story that I previously wrote about love. Appropriate to repost now as we approach Valentine’s Day. Enjoy!

“Love comforteth like sunshine after rain.” Shakespeare

With the kids safely aboard, the crossing arm retracted and the flashing red lights turned off, the school bus pulled away from the curb, leaving the young parents in a wake of noisy fumes. A quick wave, one that likely wouldn’t be seen as youngsters are in their own element once aboard, signaled the end of one phase of their day and the start of the next, the work day.

They turned and walked hand-in-hand up the inclined drive, stopping for a moment on the veranda before heading off separately, he to his car and she inside the house for some final to-do’s before going to work, herself, I imagine.

At that moment before separating, in a somewhat theatrical move that belied its spontaneity, they embraced. Their arms wrapped around each other, her back arched under his guidance, and he bent to kiss her. Her leg lifted slightly, reminiscent of the iconic photo of a sailor and nurse in Times Square at the end of WWII. It was a brief but beautiful interlude of love, love on the veranda

I’m not a snoop, nor nosy. I tend to my own business. However, I do enjoy the art of ‘observing’ people, an engaging pastime for anyone, especially for a retiree relaxing with a morning cup of coffee while peering out a picture window at the comings and goings of neighbors and street traffic.

Observing, not snooping!

And, there was no doubt that what I observed was love. The look, his strong yet gentle embrace, her arched back, the raised leg and the kiss. There was no effort to be discreet. And why should there be, it was love, pure and innocent love.

Witnessing moments of love is very satisfying, you must agree. It’s refreshing to see feelings shared between two people, lovers. They have found the formula that binds their hearts forever.

Young people are more apt to display affection openly, with touching and kissing. Older folks seem to do it more with their eyes, a loving glance, a simple touch , discreet moves that the other party understands. As they aged, themselves, my folks displayed love with hugs, kind words, a certain attentiveness.

If you’re an observer, too, be on the lookout for uplifting moments of love. Have one yourself with your lover. The human spirit needs it, love, that is.

I wonder if ‘my’ couple knows they were seen? Shall I tell them? Would it matter?

Steve B,

To lovers everywhere…

Love In The Parking Lot 💕…Story #1

Here’s the first of several stories that I wrote about love. Appropriate now as we approach Valentine’s Day. Enjoy!

“Love can start a journey to the most amazing places” Katherine Stano, Hallmark 2026 Calendar, Feb

It was a moment in time, in the open for all to see. I saw it, love in a parking lot. Others may have missed it, not me. And, there was no mistaking what it was, love, pure and simple.

In an act of old-fashioned chivalry, a tall, sophisticated looking man tenderly draped his arm around the shoulders of his attractive companion, gently moving her closer to him. His comforting smile exuded confidence. Her upward glance signaled approval, as though she, herself, had encouraged him.

They walked deliberately, amid a swarm of busy shoppers rushing to buy supplies before the pending late winter storm, too consumed with Mother Nature, perhaps, to see it. But I saw it, the wonderful and rare public display of affection, love in a parking lot.

People are hurrying and scurrying, so focused on where they’re going or where they’ve been, that they often miss where they are. Not me. I’m always looking. Life is full of wonderful moments, if we seize the opportunity to see them. Too often, in our haste, we miss the ‘theatre’ around us.

I enjoy watching people. My wife calls it ‘staring’, I call it ‘observing’. I see the remarkable and unremarkable, the pleasant and unpleasant, the ordinary and not so ordinary. I multitask with my eyes and ears, not passing the time so singularly focused that I miss life’s sometimes ‘bigger moments’, like love in a parking lot.

As for the ‘lovers’, I was not surprised to learn they were married 45 years. And this one moment of him protecting her from the icy wind by drawing her closer to his warmth, affirmed to me their mutual and enduring love.

I hope more people saw it, too, their love for each other, on display in a parking lot, because in a brief but poignant moment between two people, two lovers, I was uplifted. It made me smile.

From time to time, if you’re ‘observing’, you may be fortunate to witness true love, too, or some other special moment. I’m always looking!

Steve (Feb 26)

Dedicated to those of us who are ‘always looking’ and for people in love, everywhere.

Thanks to Jennie Fitzkee for encouraging, urging me to republish an older post. I think she’ll be pleased.

Where Is Spring?

Where Is Spring

An indomitable groundhog scurries across my lawn, signaling the start of Spring. A hairy woodpecker drills at sunrise on the dead branches of a nearby locust tree, signaling the start of Spring. Pyramidal piles of pea like deer droppings accumulate by my patio, signaling the start of Spring.

But, ‘where is Spring’?

The calendar confirmed it days ago. The incessant honking of returning geese announced it from the heavens. Well tanned ‘snowbirds’, returning home from sea, sand and sun, gave us reason to be excited about the start of the new season with its clear skies and bright sunshine, Spring. Even weather reporters proclaimed its arrival, albeit nervously.

But, ‘where is Spring’?

Baseball players pass hours oiling their gloves and tarring their bats, hoping that fields will be green and plush for Opening Day. Golf courses are accepting starting times and streams have been stocked for the legal fishing season to start anew.

But, ‘where is Spring’?

Easter Sunday is days away. Schools are starting their Spring break. Pot holes turn roads into obstacle courses, following winter’s thaw, challenging drivers at every turn. The early crocus gallantly pushes through the frost covered ground as a colorful reminder of the changing equinox.

But, ‘where is Spring’?

Hand warmers are sold out at local stores, garden gloves fill their spots. Shovels are stowed and rakes are displayed. Surely, worn flannel sheets will be replaced by lighter cotton covers with the new warmer season, the Spring season.

But, ‘where is Spring’?

Mother Nature was not kind to western New Yorkers this winter. Sunshine was scarce. Dark, dank clouds covered us like a thick wet blanket, day after day, so it seemed. Only a symbol on the calendar gave rise to the notion that Spring had arrived. And while my weather app just flashed this warning, ‘snow flurries starting soon’, I am compelled to ask…

‘Where the heck is Spring?’

srbottch.com

What Was The Weather?

In this very evening, December 25, 1776, George Washington led his somewhat ragtag band of soldiers across the Delaware River and surprised the Hessian mercenaries, beating them soundly at the Battle of Trenton for one of the earliest victories in the war for independence.

“The weather when George Washington crossed the Delaware River in 1776 was horrible, with temperatures ranging from the 20s to just above freezing, about 33 degrees, and a strong wind from the northeast making it much colder for the men. A blinding snowstorm and sleet also made the conditions almost impossible.”**

It’s been chronicled that many soldiers of the Continental Army that night were without boots or their feet were wrapped in straw, whatever was available. When I think of them, I’m both awed and grateful for their fortitude, bravery and the leadership of General Washington.

**americanhistorycentral.com

Steve

December 2024

She Loved My Poetry, I Think…

(Note: this first appeared in April 7, 24 and was republished, here, following a correction revision)

Not my poetry, in the sense that I wrote them. No, they belonged to real poets: Clemente Clarke Moore, Ernest Thayer, Robert W. Service, Hugh Antoine D’Arcy, Grantland Rice and Abraham Lincoln. I just memorized and recited them to her.

But she didn’t know, or care, who wrote the words. I think she just enjoyed the rhythmic sound that accompanied our steady pace. She never sighed or balked when I began each line, or repeated sections until I had it right.

The Night Before Christmas may have been her favorite. I’d recite it over and over and over until I couldn’t change the inflection points and it got boring, probably for both of us.

Spring came along and with it the start of a new baseball season. What could be more appropriate to memorize than Casey At The Bat. I did, a little bit a time as we walked along, side by side.

It was the All-Star game before I had it down verbatim and recited it ad nauseum. By the ‘dog days of Summer’, it was wearing thin on both of us. I sensed her boredom.

Following a short break, I picked up memorizing again and locked down Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address before the November 19th anniversary of the President’s iconic speech.

Lincoln, himself, may have delivered the speech in a quiet manner but each dramatic line found me delivering it with gusto. Neighbors probably thought it odd to see me talking and gesturing theatrically, only stopping to pee or sniff.

Memorizing poetry gave this Senior’s brain some very good exercise, I’m uncertain what it gave her, but she didn’t complain. Dogs are like that, they give you all the attention you want and don’t ask for much in return, just your love.

Over time, I managed to conquer The Cremation of Sam McGee, Alumnus Football and The Face On The Barroom Floor. She approved them all.

I still walk daily but since Daisy passed away this February, I’ve stopped with the poetry. Music accompanies me, now, on the same paths where we walked and talked. She’s deeply missed.

The Last Battle is a poem about a pet’s message to its guardian in its final days. The message is clear. The following is the opening stanza and the author is unknown but I like to think that our pets wrote it…

If it should be that I grow frail and weak
And pain should keep me from my sleep,
Then will you do what must be done,
For this — the last battle — can’t be won.
You will be sad I understand,
But don’t let grief then stay your hand,
For on this day, more than the rest,
Your love and friendship must stand the test.

Steve, 040724

For more stories, follow by blog at ‘srbottch.com’

To pet lovers, everywhere.

THE VOICE….I Can’t Hear You!!!

For any soldier who put on government issue white boxer shorts or had his head shaved to the skin in the first few days of Basic Training, these words are forever etched in your mind…

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU, TRAINEE!”

Whether inches from your face or in front of the assembled company, be it a Drill Sergeant or Officer, regardless if we were already at the high end of a decibel scale, our replies were never loud enough, hence…

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU, TRAINEE!”

Why? Harassment? No, the military trains young men and women to be soldiers, and soldiers need to respond with certainty, confidence and INTENT.

Following months of training, we became soldiers, found our voices and took on our missions with INTENT

Fast forward decades later, and the drill sergeant has been replaced with a speech pathologist who sends the same message but with a softer tone…

“I can’t hear you, Steve.”

I have Parkinson’s Disease and one mark of many Parkinson’s patients is a softening of the voice associated with an expressionless face. Thankfully, there’s help, speech therapy.

I suspected there was an issue with my voice and it festered until I found the right people to help me. After a month of therapy sessions, I’m happy to report that I’m on the right track to returning my voice to appropriate audible levels. I understand the importance of ‘speaking with INTENT’ and, if I waiver, I have a ‘toolbox’ to correct myself.

Just as I exercised my body in Basic Training to build strength and endurance, now I’m exercising my voice box to strengthen my speech. Instead of daily runs, countless push-ups, jumping jacks and the rest of the army’s ‘daily dozen’, I’m exercising my voice with ‘speak out exercises’ and reaching decibel levels that heretofore were routine and automatic

It’s challenging

And, like the physical military exercise, if I don’t make my vocal exercises a regular routine, the voice will soften, again. The program is ‘SPEAK OUT, Speaking With Intent’ and the local effort is part of a nationwide practice to teach Parkinson patients how to fight back.

The challenge is to be aware of my speech and apply vocal exercises on a daily basis to improve and maintain voice quality.

Parkinson is a slowly progressive neurological disease that afflicts each patient differently. It can impact speech, motor skills and memory over time. Other than a pill, a recommended course of action is to ‘fight back’ with rigorous physical exercise for the body and voice.

Big movements! Big voices! Big rewards!

And there’s no need to yell, “YES, DRILL SERGEANT”, a simple “thank you, Jaime and Heather” will suffice.

Steve

080124

To my two speech pathologists, Heather and Jaime (URMC), who guided me without intimidation, just INTENT.