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Nothing to Sneeze At!

Long time, huh! I’ve often thought of writing, but have lacked the will to convey some of life’s blessings and challenges, both personal and for humanity. This topic, though, I simply couldn’t resist.

I don’t know about anyone else, but I have sneezing fits at the most inopportune times; twice this morning. I sneeze so much I can’t catch my breath. Sometimes it’s scary. I blow my nose but the sneezes persist. I think of the euphemism, ‘blow my brains out’ (through my nose).

Commonly I sneeze, often uncontrollably, when I am driving or when my hands are wet from washing them, or while doing dishes. Reaching for a tissue is useless at best. Sometimes a sleeve will do the trick. Other times I simply lower my head and aim for the sink. One problem is the runny nose that often lingers. Not much problem if I’m in the shower (the second of my fits this morning). But I’d rather not have it at the kitchen sink! I’ve tried different dish soaps in hopes of curtailing my cacophony. That has helped, but I’m convinced that my nose knows no etiquette.

Sneezing is expected during allergy season, though I have never been diagnosed. I have what is commonly called Hay Fever. I am allergic to various pollen and plant residue swept up in the breeze. I do take antihistamines during allergy seasons. I realized many years ago a tendency to go into sneezing fits when walking through the soap and detergent aisles at the grocery and big box stores.

My uninvited sneezing fits have morphed over the years. Some causes have long been dulled while new triggers have emerged. Just such a trigger occurred this morning (the first for today). Though it is not the first time it’s happened.

Over recent years my stomach has become more sensitive to various foods. For instance, I can no longer tolerate shrimp in any sizable quantity. I love shrimp. Now I have to chew them to pulp to avoid severe abdominal cramps and worse, if you know what I mean. I know. Nothing to do with sneezing. It’s just an example of the changes that we face as we age.

Coffee has also become an issue at times. One such episode precipitated this blog post today. I love my morning coffee! I’ve been drinking two to three cups every morning for as long as I can remember. Now, though, the acid sometimes upsets my empty stomach. I have to get a cracker or bread or fruit in there for the juices to work on. Before I make it, some weird phenomenon links my stomach to my sinuses and I start sneezing.

I was/am terrible at anatomy, biology, and chemistry. I have no explanation for the association between my acidic coffee and my sneezing. I did do some Google searches but found no direct correlation except in cases of acid reflux. I guess I’ll leave the science to someone else. Meanwhile, I will continue to use the phrase, “My nose waits for no one!”

No one enjoys uncontrollable sneezing. But I am having fun writing about the odd times and causes of these fits. Maybe you can relate. Hopefully I’ll find more substantive subject matter as I try to reengage with writing a blog. After all, my life has gone through many changes over the past year. It’s certainly been nothing to sneeze at.

I Miss My Mom

And She’s Not Even Gone

Reports of my Mother’s condition have been positive lately. Yes, she is frail and sleeps almost constantly. But her vitals have been good and she continues to take some nourishment. Some reports have her awake late at night watching TV in the lounge. Really, though, there is not much left of her but skin and bones.

Sleeping in the lounge

That includes her cognitive mind. She continues to be kind and sweet to those she encounters in the memory care unit. She vaguely recognizes my sisters when they go to visit. She remembers some events from her past but can’t remember her family. Sometimes, she hears from her Mother. Her Mother tells her she is ready for Mom to come home.

For me, Mom has been gone for a while. I’ve made my peace with in-person goodbyes a few times now. I haven’t been to Atlanta for nearly a year to see her again. In some ways it is difficult to say goodbye to her again. She doesn’t know the difference if I’m not there.

I miss my Mom! I keep wanting to call her but she has no, nor can she use a phone. Not for anything special. Just to talk with her like I used to, chatting about what’s going on in our lives. I am happy to have Cathy to share my life. And I enjoy talking with my sisters and brother on a regular basis. Sharing our children’s and grandchildren’s lives is a blessing. But it’s just different. I feel for all of you who have lost your parents, whether in their due time or prematurely. It is difficult to accept the braking bond between child and mother.

I have experienced the gradual decline of someone dear to me. The eventuality and inevitability of death. It hurts to go through it again. Fortunately, Mom is not in serious pain. Her dementia often alleviates her stress over losing her mind. It didn’t for a while, but its progression anesthetizes her from most thought. She seems content to stare at the TV. She also watches the hustle and bustle of others like herself and the staff that guards and keeps them.

Mom is well on her way to the age of one hundred one years. None of us thought she’d live this long. There have been several episodes within the past year when we assumed it was the end. Now, finally, I am planning to return to Atlanta to see her. Not to take care of her estate, nor for a celebration of life. Just another visit at the end of which I will have to say goodbye again.

So I continue to miss my Mom. I believe I will miss her even during the visit. I know I will miss her when she is finally at rest. She is the last of the family’s age group. Too quickly it will be our turn. In some cases, it already is.

Catching Up On Life – Again

Starting Now and Filling In

Cathy and I got home from our honeymoon at Jackson Lake Lodge in the Tetons last Sunday. Since then we’ve been settling into our married life and working on all of the logistics of combining and consolidating our lives. Who knew there are sequencing issues with changing one’s name? I suppose, those of you who have had to change your names. Sorry!

Yes. We got married! It’s been a thrill and long anticipated. I asked Cathy to marry me on Valentine’s Day, in writing, on the card she gave me. She took little time to say yes. But she answered in writing the next day on the same card. I believe she is keeping that card.

The Tetons opportunity came up last November. A deal we could not resist. Little did we know then that it would be our honeymoon destination. But with upcoming anniversaries for the passing of our spouses in April and May, we decided to try to sandwich our wedding between May and the latter part July.

On July 21st we held a small wedding with some of our children and grandchildren, and a few close friends. We’ve been attending St. Stephen Lutheran Church in Urbandale for several months now. It’s a gracious and loving environment with a wonderful pastor. So we decided to invite Pastor Andrea Myers to officiate the wedding, at our new home. On Friday the 18th, Pastor Andrea informed us that she was diagnosed with Acute Leukemia. She needed to be in Rochester the following Monday (the 21st) for tests, and to begin treatment. Thankfully, Associate Pastor Chris Lang stepped in to perform the ceremony. Our thoughts and prayers continue for Pastor Andrea as she endures the first round of chemo regimens. And we pray for a speedy and complete recovery.

Cathy and I spent our teen years in the same neighborhood. Both of our last names began with “Ja”. Because of this, we were placed in the same homerooms for both Junior and Senior High School. We didn’t socialize back then. But we were aware of each other. We reconnected through our 50th reunion website. Cathy posted that she had lost her husband to a fast-growing cancer. I offered my condolences and empathy, having recently been through a similar loss. When we met for dinner in June of 2024, we quickly recognized our common interests. It didn’t take long for us to notice the attraction.

Obviously, there is so much that happened between June of 2024 and July of 2025. I might get to some stories about us in later posts. Here I will say that our upbringing, our common neighborhood and school, and our years of life experiences have all led us to each other. Our love is for each other, as we are. Sharing our remaining years together is our passion. Yet we are always mindful of our losses of Pam and Craig. We have mutual respect for our grieving. We embrace each other’s loved ones and friends as we move forward into our future. We are truly blessed.

Self-Imposed

We all do it. Make demands of ourselves that drive us ahead. Sometimes we think it is expected of us by others. Sometimes we are driven by latent emotions or feelings of inadequacy. Of course, sometimes self-imposed goals or deadlines are good for us.

I have imposed a deadline upon myself for the last two plus years. Write and publish a post each Saturday. I felt committed to writing to process my grief. It helped me continuously move ahead. This way, I kept my recent past at bay.

It worked. Of course, writing is just a part of the process. Many other factors contributed to my well being. I find myself busy with many past times now. I have a new social network. New relationships and locations keep me hopping. So much so that I didn’t write.

I’ve been thinking that writing my blog posts has become expected of me by my readers. Yet for the several weeks of What Javia darkness, no one asked my why I was not posting. That’s when I realized that my deadline is self-imposed.

If it’s not this, then it is something else. Empty some boxes. Put stuff away. Do the laundry and clean the house. Okay. Those are needed tasks. But how often do I press upon myself to do the chores on certain days? How often do you?!

I use Recurring Tasks to remind me of my deadlines. Water the plants on Monday. Take out the garbage each Wednesday (that one is necessary). Finish my blog post by 3 pm each Friday. Obviously, there are required tasks that reminders keep me apprised of. Some people still use paper. I use the computer, or my phone.

As usual, I write as though the topic matter is unique to me. I do know better. I am sure that you share at least some traits of self imposition. Think about it. How many self imposed deadlines or tasks are really important? What would happen if you let them slide? Which ones are necessary?

Yet here I am on a Friday afternoon scrambling to spew out my thoughts. With 20 minutes to go until 3 pm. I am still driven to give you something in your inbox, published at 12 pm each Saturday.

But now I think I can give myself a break if I don’t make it from time to time. After all, it is better to have something worthwhile to say. Topic matter more meaningful than just putting something out there for you to ponder – like self-imposed deadlines.

“Hello It’s Me”

“I’ve thought about you for a long, long time.”

Hello It’s Me by Todd Rundgren, 1972

Did you miss me?

I like this song. Though it is a bit sad. The music is great – I began thinking about blogging again this week. It’s been since the middle of March when I suggested I would be coming out with something big. It was supposed to be a commemoration of five years of wutjavia.com.

But life continues to unfold in unexpected ways. We all know change is inevitable. Whether a function of the times or of age, the speed and frequency of changes seems to be accelerating. Thus, I have been away from here for a while. And the post reminiscing about Wut Javia will have to wait. For now I turn my attention to the near future while keeping connection with my recent past.

The third anniversary of Pam’s passing is approaching. I have many reminders of its coming. I have many thoughts about its arrival.

When I left the bridge on May 12th last year, I told Pam I didn’t know if I’d be back. I had no idea what direction my life would head. I knew only that I was planning to move forward. Keeping Pam, and our past, in my thoughts and heart.

I have written about or alluded to some of the ways my life has changed since then. I moved closer to my son. I began a relationship with a woman. I vaguely knew Cathy from my past. She lost her husband just over a year ago.

Cathy and I have grown close and are making plans for our future together. It’s a good thing! We share many things in common. Our high school experience, the neighborhood where we grew up. Past acquaintances and friends. We also share much in our present. By far the least of which is the loss of our spouses.

As we learn about each other, we realize that former influences shaped who we are. They developed a basis for our compatibility. Our personalities jibe. But with enough differences to keep our relationship interesting. We enjoy music and nature. We contemplate God and the universe. We keep each other on our toes, so to speak.

I relay these things to you as pretext to what is soon to come. Cathy just experienced the first anniversary of her husband’s death. I am about to experience the third anniversary of Pam’s. Thus, I have asked Cathy to join me at the bridge in Nebraska. Three years ago, I poured Pam’s ashes over the bridge, into the stream that runs into her family’s heritage farm. Cathy enthusiastically agreed to come.

As Pam was dying, and after she did, I promised her that I would live the rest of my life. Not merely exist in grief. It is fitting that I share this solemn, heartfelt time with Cathy. In some sense I hope that it is a loving transition from my past to my future. A future that Pam told me would be. One I didn’t think was possible. On where I could love again.

Hello, it’s me. I still love you. I still think about you. I am moving ahead with a life without you in it. A life I know you would want for me. Your life too early ending.

A Place Holder

I’d planned to write comparing “transition” to “change.” But that will have to wait for another time. I find myself too much in the weeds of them to concentrate on their subtle differences. Instead, I ask for your indulgence once again. I am preparing for what I want to be a special edition of the Wut Javia blog next week.

Until then, I hope you all have a safe and satisfying weekend and upcoming week. I hear it’s Spring break in these parts. But as they say in the world of retirees, “Every day is Saturday.” I used to say that too. Now I find it hard to believe. Except I don’t have to do the shopping on weekends. Thus minimizing the stress of crowded parking lots and long checkout lines.

And let’s not forget the weather. Apparently Spring has sprung. One day we have high temperatures near 80 degrees. The next day it’s 40! The weather seems odd everywhere in the states again this year. How do we explain it now that the government insists there is no climate change?

I suppose I should stop rambling and let you all get back to your regularly scheduled lives. I hope this little place holder finds you well!

Walking the Hallways

Walking the apartment building hallways during times of inclement weather is a benefit of apartment living. The scenery is decidedly less exciting than walking along a “normal” neighborhood. Yet there are interesting sights and sounds to stimulate the senses. The beeping of the elevator, barking dogs. The sound of video gaming or music behind closed doors.

Instead of concrete sidewalks traversing double-wide driveways, apartment building hallways are nearly void of obstacles. There are the occasional unique identifiers for various residences. Just like those encountered along the streets of a former home. Mostly door mats along with hanging wreaths and signs.

Door mats give a glimpse of the lifestyle of the neighbors who live within. I found this one either funny or disturbing depending on your outlook on life.

Signs and wreaths suggest religious, cultural, and social proclivities of those who dwell within. And so with walking the streets of my former neighborhood. Seasonal holiday lights and yard ornaments delighted, and sometimes disgusted me. Apartment strolling evokes much the same emotions. Some door ornaments are normal and expected. This one surely seems appropriate at this time.

Like the door mat, signs can also vie for attention.

As does this holiday wreath. Though certainly not my style.

This ones seems out of season, though still enjoyable on the whole.

Others are curious and have meanings that escape me. Like this contrasting wreath. Though it, too, oddly enough I like.

As with single/double family dwelling neighborhoods, apartment buildings have other business going on. I don’t see for sale or for rent signs here. But evidence of comings and goings abound. Houses are sold. Movers move. Upgrades abound. Maintenance is ongoing. Apartment buildings have their own evidence of changing occupancy.

I’m probably guilty of nicking sheetrock corners during my past moves. But most of the time I see “professional” movers here. I wonder if management gets upset, or just figures S**t happens! I found this patchwork on every floor.

I suppose every neighborhood has its demonstrations of human nature. There are occasional abandoned vehicles, yard clutter, unsightly yards and landscaping. Apartment buildings have their own style of individuality.

Months ago, my neighbors across the hall started putting their garbage bags outside their door. They left them there for days before taking them out to the dumpsters. Not only were they unsightly, they often began to smell. Maybe they were trying to keep the garbage away from the dog. This dog often barks at me when I leave or enter my apartment. I finally put a sticky note on their door, “PLEASE TAKE YOUR GARBAGE OUT!” It was all caps because that’s how I often write anyway.

That seems to have worked. Occasionally I find a bag in waiting. But it doesn’t stay there very long. Unfortunately, another frustrating exhibit manifested. It’s been about three months since what appears to be a uniform showed up outside their door. I’m pretty sure it hasn’t moved since.

A pair of boots sometimes keeps the uniform company. Though only for short visits. I wonder if these clothes are lonely or feel neglected sitting outside the door all the time.

I gave up trying to do anything about this neighbor. I will, however, inform management if their droppings once again start to smell!

One last thing before I go for another walk around my neighborhood. I might see something similar in any neighborhood. However, I am aware that the majority of the tenants here are much younger than I. People enjoy life. They party too fervently. I get it. The difference here is that the rain doesn’t wash the evidence away! I wonder what their apartments look like inside. No, not really. I don’t want to know!

Apparently the cleaning crew only vacuums the hallway carpet. They must not even spot clean at all. For a few weeks now, I have been stepping around this neighborhood landmark. I suspect I will see it again when I am done writing today and once again go walking the hallways.

Last Minute Addendum

As with any neighborhood, drama takes place in various ways. Often it comes in the form of sirens and emergency vehicles. Though no sirens sounded, excitement came to within feet of my apartment door yesterday morning.

I opened the door to leave for the grocery. Two uniformed policemen stood in the hallway between me and the stairwell. There was also a woman who I did not recognize, wearing a long winter coat. None seemed in a hurry or too anxious. One of the policemen walked into the stairwell, then turned and walked back. I asked if it was okay to use the stairs and was assured there was no problem.

On to the grocery and back again. I saw a fire rescue vehicle and fire truck now parked in front of the building. Another two policemen on the first floor hallway. “Is it okay to be in here”, I asked. “Yes. No danger.”

Up the elevator to the fourth floor (no stairs because I was carrying groceries in my cart). An EMT and another policeman met me as I got off. But no worries. Then, I turned the hallway corner. The original pair of uniforms were still outside the door across the hall and down one unit from my apartment. Asking again if everything was alright, one said, “I really can’t discuss it. But there is no danger.”

If I remember correctly, an older man lives(d) across the hall. I suspect this all began as a welfare check. Apparently it turned out to be more than a check.

There is a fire station just a couple blocks from here. There was a fire station on the same street as my former home, just about a half mile away. Sirens and emergency vehicles are commonplace for me. Sometimes they stop in the neighborhood. This, too, is now a part of walking the hallways.

Radio…

…Silence

Bemusing my inability to produce a post last week, I thought of radio silence. And just the way my mind works, I spontaneously bounced related radio topics around in my head. Still, I am approaching another week’s deadline without sufficient brain waves (or bandwidth) to get this out on time.

But let me give it a try and hopefully offer something worth reading for another week. Here are just a few of the balls that bounced through my cerebral cavity.

…Wave

Radio waves are a type of electromagnetic radiation. A radio wave has a much longer wavelength than visible light. Humans use radio waves extensively for communications.”

University Corporation for Atmospheric Research (UCAR)

We’ve all known about radio waves our entire lives. Their existence was proven by Heinrich Hertz in 1887. We’ve enjoyed radio waves through, well, radios and other audio devices. Radios were one of the most influential communicators before television (and after the telegraph). The frequency of various electromagnetic waves is thus measured in Hertz (Hz).

Of course we think of other kinds of waves. Brain waves. Waves of the ocean. Light waves. These are just a few. Come to think of it, my hair has always been wavy. I guess that’s frequent too 😉 .

Frequency

Going beyond radio waves here. The video included with the above link gives an easy-to-understand explanation of frequency. Obviously, frequency has a plethora of other uses in our daily lives. I go to the grocery store too frequently! Yet I eat fruits and vegetables far too infrequently. You get the picture.

Frequency played an important role in my development during my formative preteen and teenage years. Frequency Modulated (FM) radio offered a distinct music venue. It was separate from the popular Amplitude Modulated (AM) radio stations. These stations were full of bubblegum pop and paid commercials.

KFMG radio introduced me to the deep tracks of Yes, Emerson, Lake, and Palmer, Led Zeppelin, and Pink Floyd. They played songs from many other less known bands too. The station exist still today. But I’m not sure of their repertoire now.

Transistor…

When I was born, as far as I know, all radios were powered with electricity running through vacuum tubes. Some were large with multiple speakers for high, medium, and low tones. Some were small, still using vacuum tubes, but with less power and fewer or smaller speakers. But none were portable. All were plugged in to an electrical outlet.

It turns out that the first transistor radio was built in 1954, the same year I was born. The Regency TR-1 was released in October of that year. It is “…a semiconductor device with three connections, capable of amplification in addition to rectification. A portable radio using circuits containing transistors rather than vacuum tubes.” Game changer!

Boom boxes, the Walkman, and many computerized innovations began with the development of the transistor radio. All in my lifetime!


So what?! What does all this have to do with you?

Not much really. Unless you can relate to either the strange workings of my verbose (musing of a wandering) mind. Or you relate to the nostalgia of developing technology or rock and roll music. Regardless, it’s been fun to think about and ultimately to write about. Hopefully, I can avoid many weeks of radio silence as I sway “through this fairyland of love.”

See you next week – I hope.

Whew! I almost made it. Just a few minutes late.

Drivers Beware – There Is Hope!

The Complaint:

To say that I am susceptible to road rage is an overstatement. Or it is an understatement. It might depend on the day and my mood. It also depends on how many STUPID drivers I perceive on the highways and byways. Either way, I am frustrated by those who ignore simple common courtesies or are just totally inept at driving.

I’ve talked about my pet peeve of not using turn signals. Recently, I have twice been behind drivers whose vehicles turned left across a boulevard median. The rear end of their vehicles stuck out into traffic while waiting. There was ample room to fit them clear of both traffic directions. Really?!

Other frustrations include these dangerous and/or maddening things. Driving far slower than the flow of traffic and well below the posted speed limit. Driving way faster than the flow of traffic and well above the posted speed limit. The latter yahoos often change lanes directly in front of the cars they pass. Of course without engaging that long-armed toggle situated on the steering column either right or left of the steering wheel. Yep – the turn signal! Then there are also those who choose to drive in the leftmost lane until within braking distance of a right turn or exit. Often without signally, they swoop across traffic disrupting the flow, and the concentration of other drivers.

Among the most egregious lapses in judgment is causing damage to one’s vehicle in a parking lot. It is inconsiderate and irresponsible to then just walk or drive away! I have a one inch roundish ding in the right rear panel of my otherwise pristine Honda as an example.

I’m not sure what people think when they do such things. Accidents are bound to happen. Things break. Spills – spill. Wind catches a car door before one can properly grab it. Or the wind is just too strong. I get it. It’s what a person does when accidents happen that reveals their character. Pick up the pieces of glass from the floor. Offer to buy a replacement. Vacuum the carpet. Soak up the spill. Apologize at least! Certainly don’t walk away from an accident of any kind!

The Hope:

Thursday evening we met another couple at John and Nick’s Steak and Prime Rib. I’ve been there twice. I had the prime rib the first time. It was excellent! Thursday night’s special was a 40 oz Tomahawk Ribeye. I chose a crab-stuffed Tilapia. It, too, was excellent.

Well, anyway (shout out to Glenda 🙂 ), returning to my car on the slick sidewalk and still partially covered parking lot, I found a handwritten note tucked into the driver’s door handle.

I’m so sorry – When backing up, I started to slide and tapped the back of your car. My husband is home with the sick baby right now or I would try to come find you inside. Please let me know if any damage. Rachel J******* xxx-xxx-xxxx

Oh crap! Run (carefully in the slush) around to the back of the car. Can’t see anything. Check the driver’s side. Still nothing. Then I decided it was too dark to see. I’d have to look in the morning. Then I got into the car. And started to cry!

I said to Cathy, “I am so overwhelmed that someone actually took responsibility. I don’t think I can ask her to pay even if there is damage!”

All the memories of rocks thrown by others’ tires. The scratches and dents left by others in my many vehicles through the years. All angst and frustration melted away. The knowledge that this young woman took the time. She made the effort in the cold. She had the decency to take responsibility for her actions.

I’ve owned my problem with other drivers. I try hard to avoid it. Yet, I still swear and yell at them for the stupid (at least in my view) ways they try to drive. Now I have more reason to work on my attitude deficiency. Thank you, Rachel, for giving me reason to reevaluate myself. For giving me a renewed hope.

By the way. The only sign of the “tap” was some road grime and salt from the winter weather rubbed off. No harm, no foul. Yet Rachel made a difference. I will be texting her with a message of thanks and a link to this post. She deserves an answer.