Growing Old with Boots the Dog

He is old now but once he was young,
Our Bernese-Chow Boots with the big red tongue,
We got him the day when I was really sick,
So, my wife and daughter said we better get him quick,
Because Dad won’t notice while he is asleep,
We can bring him in the back while he is snoring deep.

Later that day from my slumber I awoke,
And from surprise and pneumonia, I thought I’d choke.
I said what’s this dog that looks like a bear,
And when he sheds, you’ll need to clean up his hair.

But Kendall begged to keep our dog-bear Boots.
“I need a friend since Kyle is leaving, and isn’t he cute?”
I said OK, but keep him out of my way,
Because at that time I was all work, and no play.

But later I found that Boots was just like me,
We both loved my wife and the family,
And I was overweight and looked a bit like a bear,
We both had heart problems, so we had to take care.

My wife took us for walks, last chance workouts, we called it,
Because both Boots and I had to get fit.
And as we trained and struggled, we both got better,
Boots in his long hair and I in my sweater,
And I came to love that dog who was just like me,
Who loved nature, birds, and especially trees!

The years grew long and both of us got old,
Our joints got creaky, and our noses cold,
But Boots had one last lesson to teach,
One of patience and love, that we often preach –
But Seldom Do.

For you see Boots is now older than 102,
But his love is pure, and his heart is true,
He circles the house to grasp one more day,
And sometimes barks, when it is not OK.

But I have grown to love him and feel blessed,
To have one more day to clean up his mess,
With our dog Boots, who is just like me,
A cherished member of our family.
Don Grier

Celebrating Christmas – Faith and Togetherness in Crosswicks

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Christmas is meant for community. Each year, the light that comes into the world brings us together. This joy is to be shared among friends, family, and neighbors!

I remember sharing this joy and love in my hometown of Crosswicks, NJ. Here is a picture of Main Street blanketed in snow. It got me dreaming of Christmas in Crosswicks.

Snow covered street in Crosswicks during Christmas

Picture of Main Street Crosswick by Katherine Caldwell

I am never tired of thinking of Christmas in my hometown. The snow glistens in the trees. The 100+ year old Christmas tree bursting into light! Neighbors singing Christmas Carols around a bonfire and later warming themselves with hot apple cider. The candlelight service in the 200-year-old Quaker Meeting House. There are four main reasons Christmas in Crosswicks is unique and makes the holiday shine brighter.

Christmas in Crosswicks is Historic

Crosswicks was settled by Quaker immigrants in 1677, and Christmas celebrations and worship have been ongoing ever since. The Quaker Meeting House, which still stands and holds the annual Candlelight service each Christmas, was built in 1773. It even held the ceremony during COVID, except it went virtual, keeping the tradition unbroken.

The Christmas of 1776 is particularly noteworthy. Colonial troops occupied Crosswicks under General Cadwalader in preparation for the historic Battle of Trenton, one of the turning points of the Revolutionary War.

Crosswicks celebrated the 105th lighting of the large Christmas tree in the Quaker fields near the Community House. To see the magic, look at this link for this year’s virtual ceremony.

One last Christmas moment relates to a historic building three buildings from my home. Brick’s Mincemeat Factory was built in 1879 and, until 1968, was the state’s largest producer of mincemeat. It is now a historical building but still holds special memories of the mincemeat pies we had each Christmas.

The historic nature of Christmas in Crosswicks makes it special but not necessarily unique. I encourage everyone to learn more about the history of your town related to Christmas.

Sharing of Faith and Fellowship

Crosswicks had diversity when it came to faith and denomination. I have already mentioned that Quakers founded the city, and the candlelight service at the Quaker Meeting House is a fixture of the holiday season. However, one of the things that I remember most about the holiday season is learning about Hanukkah at my elementary school each year. I still remember the dreidel song taught to us by one of my friend’s mother. Hanukkah was also the Festival of Light, represented by the menorah.

We also had the United Methodist Church, which my good friend attended. I would sing songs like “Go Tell It on the Mountain” with her father, a retired Methodist minister, that we did not usually sing in my Catholic Church.

We also had the historic Grace African Methodist Episcopal Church, organized in 1868 and located three buildings down the street from my house. I remember the Christmas hymns of joy echoing forth from the Church. We of Crosswicks were of different faiths and denominations, but we shared our beliefs and joy openly during the season.

Joining in Civil Community

We also joined each holiday season in the civil community. Our family joined our fellow “Crosswicksians” each year in the annual bonfire and Christmas Tree lighting. We would all circle the tree at the Community Center and sing Christmas Carols, both secular and religious. Voices rose together as one community, and we sang of hope and love! Later, we drank hot apple cider, ate donuts, and shared fellowship about the encroaching holiday season. To close the day, Santa Claus would ride on the back of the firetruck and toss candy to all of us. It was all a kid could want!

Exploring the Wonders of Winter with Friends

After all that candy, cider, and donuts, we needed an outlet to burn off the calories. Our rural town (imagine that in Jersey) offered many options in the winter months.

No Netflix for us! We grabbed our skates and went skating on the Frog Pond behind the library, or better yet, we sled down “the Hill” behind the old Firehouse. I remember leaving the house at 8 a.m. some days and not returning until 9 p.m. The only breaks were a grape soda and candy at Applegate’s Market.

We even exercised when getting our Christmas Trees. There was no Papa Noel’s or Walmart for us. We went with our Dad to cut down a tree at Nicholson’s Tree Farm. I am envious of my cousin since she still lives down the street.

In closing, Christmas in Crosswicks was full of faith, fellowship, and fun. That is why, some forty years later, I still dream of Christmas in the Crosswicks. You may be dreaming of Christmas in your hometown. Christmas in recent years, especially during Covid, feels different from the past. We may congregate again but sometimes stand apart from our fellow citizens. And even when in proximity, we sometimes rip each other apart with cutting remarks.

For some, the light of Christmas may seem a bit dimmer in recent years. And, despite our best efforts to set our homes alight like the Griswolds, we cannot capture the brightness of a smile or the warmth of a human touch. Light does not come from a bulb! Instead, it comes from hearts joined by the joy of Christmas!

Say a prayer for someone in need. Donate to a charity. Most of all, we should honor the light that has come into the world with worship and kindness for all. Until next year, I have been dreaming of Christmas in Crosswicks. Let me close with a song.

Christmas in Crosswicks

I am dreaming of Christmas in Crosswicks,
Just like the ones I used to know,
Where people got together,
In all kinds of weather,
To watch the Christmas tree aglow!

I am dreaming of Christmas in Crosswicks,
And the bonfires in the night,
May all your memories be bright, 
And when we cross the wicks with neighbors, 
we bring more light!

If you enjoyed this blog, you may want to hear it and similar messages in the Change Well Podcast by clicking this link. If you are looking to improve your wellness or your that of your team, check out my other blogs at these two links: https://weightlossleadership.com/ or https://wellnessldr.com/blog/.

A Weave of Life Lessons This Election Day

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Today, I have a lot on my mind. It is the 22nd anniversary of my Dad, Big D, passing, and it is election day. So, in honor of my Dad, to celebrate our democracy and organize the many thoughts in my head, I will attempt what former President Trump calls the weave.

My definition of the weave is connecting several lines of disparate thought to develop a consistent theme. Today’s weave will hopefully create a tapestry of life lessons that lead to wellness. The thread that ties this weave together is the many lessons I learned from my father and how they have helped me become a better person. So, let’s start weaving.

Big Russ and Me

I find myself missing Tim Russert this election day. Tim Russert was and still is my favorite journalist. He was the epitome of authenticity and enthusiasm for our democracy. The longtime host of Meet the Press, he was thorough, insightful, and always civil but challenging in his questioning. I used to watch Meet the Press every Sunday but now seldom watch Sunday news programs.

Another reason I miss Tim Russert is his dedication to family. He wrote one of my favorite memoirs, Big Russ & Me, about his relationship with his father, Big Russ, and the lessons he learned from him.

Big Russ and Tim’s relationship reminded me of my one with my Dad, Big D. The similarities are uncanny. Both raised four children with their wives, did not finish high school, had blue-collar jobs, and served in the military. Believe it or not, both worked on a Garbage truck. But most importantly, they both taught life lessons that made their sons better people.

I will not write a book like Tim for this election day weave of lessons (although I could and will someday). Instead, I will provide the top five lessons I learned from my Dad, resonating even more loudly 22 years after his passing.

Get the Iron Out of the Door.

What is the iron? Where’s the door? Iron refers to large turbines that generate electricity in dams. Big D was a steelworker/machinist, and it was his job to repair the turbines and get them out the door as quickly as possible to their destinations worldwide. Equally important was ensuring the turbines did not have to come back through the door: this required diligence, consistency, and hard work.

The lesson is to learn your craft, roll up your sleeves, and work daily at your vocation and for your family. For more on this lesson and how I applied it to my career in information technology, please read my blog, Getting the Iron Out the Door.

There is Always Room for Improvement.

My dad was good at getting the iron out the door, but he was always looking for ways to make his team get it done faster, cheaper, and with higher quality. Likewise, he taught us that no matter how well you do, there is always room for improvement.

He applied this lesson to his personal life. As mentioned earlier, Big D and Big Russ had not graduated high school. My dad left school to help his mom and family and entered the Air Force. He got his GED, machinist journeyman certification, and further education in a community college.

I remember him returning after overtime at DeLaval and practicing the words fuma and puma in Spanish very intently. Over 50 years later, I can still hear him practicing to better communicate with his fellow union workers.

One more story about improvement from this lesson. Improvement does not come quickly. You must make slow, steady practice. Big D demonstrated this aspect by building a lake on his retirement property.

I remember the first time my Dad started building the lake. He had just got the backhoe and had begun scraping out a ditch. He took my brother and me out there. Then, pointing to a muddy gouge with a few puddles, he said proudly, “Look at my lake!”.

My brother and I started laughing. Dad said, “Why are you laughing?”. My bother pointed out, “Dad, when you say lake, it connotates images of water! This is not a lake. It is a puddle.” Dad just shook his head, climbed in his backhoe, and said, “You will see smart alecks.”

And we saw. A year or two later, there was a full-fledged lake. The following year, fish were in the lake and on a dock. But Dad kept tweaking the lake up to the day he died.

We wondered why he did this since he proved his point and gave us our initial lesson. Having returned to the land recently with the direct coordinates in hand, I found an aerial picture revealing he built the lake in the shape of Texas! If you want to see the before and after pictures, read our blog, The Return: Have A Vision as Big as Texas. And always look for ways to improve!

Be Tough, But Have A Heart.

One area in which my Dad did not need much improvement was toughness. My brother tells a great story about my Dad at one of the campouts that Dad hosted for my brother’s fraternity. Big D had fallen asleep too close to the fire, and one of his cowboy boots started burning! The fraternity brothers shook my Dad awake, yelling Big D! Big D! Your boot is on fire. Big D, not batting an eye, took off the boot, smashed it in the dirt, extinguished the fire, and said, “I am the toughest SOB that ever walked the face of the earth.”

Big D was tough due to his childhood, but he still had a big heart. He taught us that you must be firm but fair and have a heart for others. I best learned this lesson when I ran away from home.

When I was 16, I made the rash decision to run away. I was distressed that I was moving away from my home in New Jersey and losing my friends. I thought the world was ending, but really, it was only beginning.

I do not know how he knew where I was going, but my Dad found me. He told me that he was sorry and that I was tough. He then explained that we needed to move to Texas to make a better life. He then hugged me, and I got in the car. There was no yelling. There was only love.

You can read more about this story and other lessons in the blog: The Lesson Learned When Running Away.

Be Part of the Community.

Another thing that my dad instilled in me was the power of community. My dad was our Cub Master, our baseball and basketball coach, a Union Vice President, a softball player, and a member of several men’s clubs. He also had diverse friends and included some of our friends in our family.

I carry with me the importance of community. I am a leader or participant in several civic organizations. The lesson I learned from Big D about community was threefold.

First, he led or was present in our activities to be part of his children’s lives. Second, when you meet people face to face, it is hard to stay in an argument. You can cast aspersions on someone on Facebook without truly facing them. It is tough to hold a grudge or an argument when you have to see the person the following week. Last, when we act in the community, we build others up instead of tearing them down. We become stronger when we act as a team.

The First and Last Lesson – Be Thankful.

Big D was always thankful for his community and friends and was unafraid to show it. I will miss the heartfelt prayers of thanks my dad used to say before Thanksgiving dinner. They were simple but profound and gave thanks for all that was given to our family.

But I will never forget the first Thanksgiving without him and the miracle provided us in his remembrance. I recommend you read the full Thanksgiving Cows blog here, but here is a synopsis and the lesson.

Two weeks after Big D died, we went to my dad and mom’s ranch one last time for Thanksgiving. The ten cows he was raising were all expecting.

As we rounded the bend, my family saw two new baby calves. During the rest of Thanksgiving, a new calf was born about every hour, so there were nine near dinner time. However, one cow, Rosie, had a problem birthing her calf.

After much chasing and antics, we finally got Rosie in the truck and took her to the veterinarian. We did not have Thanksgiving dinner, but I would not have missed the event for the best food in the world.

I had never seen a calf being born; it was a tremendous sight. The vet wrapped a rope around the half-born calf and pulled it. The calf was born after a few moments that seemed like an eternity. After lying on the ground for a few moments, the calf made its first few steps and was alive.

At that moment, despite missing Thanksgiving Dinner, I was never more thankful. I was grateful for my dad’s gift of the cows, and I was thankful for the timing and happiness that the calves’ birth gave me and my family.

Whenever I feel let down or frustrated, I think back to the story of the Thanksgiving calves. And that is a Game Changer. Counting your blessings can change your attitude to one of positivity. It can lift you out of the despair of failure and toward the hope of tomorrow.

The End of the Weave, Hope for Tomorrow.

We close our weave by coming full circle to tomorrow’s election. Whether your candidate wins or not, let’s remember the lessons of Big D. Wake up tomorrow to get the iron out the door and food on your family’s plate. Look for ways to improve yourself and those around you. Be passionate about your beliefs, but have a heart for those who may differ. And most of all, Join in community and be thankful for this great country. We owe it to the legacy of Big D and Big Russ.