Ace Hardware had a decent supply of deicer. Home Depot was abysmal. The small quantity that they had sold out immediately and the re-supply was sold out within fifteen minutes.
Home Depot did not put a limit on how many bags that you could purchase. The first two contractors that came in – who normally buy elsewhere – took Home Depot’s entire supply of rock salt inside of 15-minutes.

Doesn’t Home Depot have any management sense? A five bag limit should have been mandated. Then maybe I, and perhaps you, would have had a chance at getting some rock salt and getting rid of that ice.

Would be Gig Harbor scooter riders should take note. Helmets are required in Washington State. Insurance is not required. A motorcycle license endorsement is required even if you ride a scooter.

An exception is the small 49 cc engine scooters that don’t require a driver’s license motorcycle endorsement to be used on public streets. Scooter engines larger than 49 cc require a driver’s license endorsement. If you ride in Gig Harbor, the hilly areas will be challenging on anything smaller than 150 cc engine. And for two adults, a 250 cc engine size is a recommended minimum size engine.

Getting the endorsement requires both a written and a practical test be taken. For more information on getting licensed for a scooter, visit the Department of Licensing

The DOL treats scooters the same as motorcycles. Scooter safety is important enough that Washington State will pay half of your state approved motorcycle safety training course.

A 250 cc engine can reach freeway speed and more. . .but for high speed riding a heavier bike is recommended. More scooter information can be found at: Gig Harbor Scooters

There are no warning signs for large trucks going down Borgen Blvd. The pip-squeek roundabout at Peacock forces damage upon anyone attempting to drive a big rig through them.

Witness this unhappy, and stuck, driver – it looks like he can make it.

Until we look at the back end. He was stuck. Eventually he just drove over the scraggly metal sign post. The last I saw, the metal sign was wrapped around his rear axle being dragged down Borgen Blvd.

I hear tell that the same sort of thing happens down at the Point Fosdick Drive roundabout. Life in Gig Harbor is a hoot.

The baby delivered okay but the woman developed uncontrollable bleeding from the uterus. She was rushed into intensive care and a full battery of drugs and emergency actions were taken to stop the bleeding.
Still, she bled to death. The father went home a single dad and a widower.

The danger of child-birth, ever present, has accompanied women throughout history.
There are physical dangers and pain that women face when they have children.

The inherent dangers of child birth are recognized. And the bonding between a man and woman are encouraged through the institution of marriage. Human history supports marriage as a special privilege between a man and a woman.

The dictates of biology are inescapable. Pain, death of the woman, the child or both are possible outcomes.
Yet “marriage” seems to have morphed into something else in today’s world.

The special reward of “marriage” for a man and a woman has degraded to a simple reward between any two beings with feelings for each other. In particular, the homosexual group believes that marriage should extend it’s privilege to something other than a man and a woman.

The religious right would call it “God’s law”. Biology doesn’t care. Humanity does.
The risk for a woman bearing a child will always be the same, as it has throughout history.
The reward will be what society chooses.

Medical technology can wring the last drop of life out of the human body. I know because I’ve watched my 87-year-old father with tubes shoved into every orifice, his blood filtered, arterial punctures, sedation, x-rays and blood drawn daily. The intubation tube causes a continuous gag reflex and scars the larynx.

The frustration of an old man with failing hearing and eyesight with a tube down his throat is that he cannot not talk and express his last wishes.

We thought that having an Advance Health Care Directive with power of attorney would prevent this sort of thing. Little did we know that the restrictions on communication with our dad would prevent us from knowing his wishes. What we found was that his hearing aids were removed (body temperature is taken from the ear now) and his glasses were removed (tubes over the ear and through the nose prevent glasses) and a tube down his throat prevents speech.

We’ve watched our dad age. . .no catastrophic illnesses. . .just slow gradual deterioration. He was fully cognizant of his condition and had no wish to resist. Vision almost gone, hearing still barely working (he hasn’t heard a bird sing in over thirty years) both hips replaced and worn out again, most of his friends and workmates passed away, wife passed away and kids grown and in pursuit of their own lives – for our dad life was good but worn and faded at the end.

All of our life stories have the same ending. The way the ending is written is important though. For my dad it was a good life. He lived at home and took care of himself until the last few weeks.

Pneumonia was his last illness. . .we got him to the hospital and the next day they moved him to the intensive care unit. He needed intubation to continue breathing. When I arrived he was fully cognizant but sedated. When I said “Hi Dad!” he opened his eyes and looked at me.

Then, with distinct movement of his eyes and head, he looked to the left at the stand of plasma bags and meds, then a sharp glance at the tubes at the head of the bed, then a another distinct glance at the breathing machine on the right.
Finally, a last look directly into my eyes with a slight raise of his eyebrows.

I know immediately what he was telling me. “Get this stuff off me.” His hands were restrained because he had already tried to remove the breathing tube. I felt like the bad son because I knew his wishes and I could not carry them out.

The Advanced Health Care Directive said that that family and doctors should discontinue life support if efforts were deemed futile after three months. It was a standard Health Care Directive and no specific provisions were made for specific wishes and possibilities.

And so we watched as doctors fought to overcome each biological technicality over a course of ten days. By the tenth day dad’s left eye was fully dilated and did not constrict. His mouth sagged and never closed. He stared straight ahead and was barely responsive. “Hi Dad!” produced no results.

The doctor said that one more kidney dialysis treatment would bring kidney function back, or closer to normal. They seemed to ignore the obvious neurological problem that occurred. It was if the medical team was intent on winning individual battles while the war engulfed them.

The worn old man, even though cured of the pneumonia, could not withstand ten days of assault by modern medicine. His biology crashed and on the tenth day he was free of the plastic snakes and needle sharp fangs.

Dad’s release was a relief for him. But for me, I will forever carry the feeling of letting him down at the last. Even though we thought we were prepared, we were not. In this instance, the Advanced Health Care Directive was of no value.

It is, however, a lesson to study. Advanced Health Care Directives have provisions where one can give very specific directives. Perhaps specifying one’s age and treatment options, one’s remaining capabilities, neurological capacity and other remaining functions the directive can give doctors milestones by which to determine when to quit the battle.

Knowing what I know now, I will do things differently for myself. We all get a turn at this event. Hopefully, I will approach it with grace and calm.

One last vestige of “quaint” was the Gig Harbor Motor Inn surrounded by forest and walking trails. There can never ever be another one like that. In Gig Harbor, one can find “Quaint” located at. . .excuse me, I just ran out of words.

(The above image as found on the chamber of commerce website 7/15/07)
No more ducks. No more pond. No more forest. Good bye “quaint”.