Updates, Us: Dove Bars

Monday, August 12, 2013

Dove Bars

Tonight we had a tasty treat, a Dove Ice Cream bar.

That single luscious indulgence is a trip down memory lane for us.

Walking NYC's 5th Avenue from lower Manhattan to the Christmas Tree at Rockefeller Center on Christmas Eve became our tradition back in the 1980s. One of those years, we tasted roasting chestnuts, yuck. Trust me, the song is so much better.

Some time around 1985 I think, we were approached by a rolling refrigerated cart and a young man, equally refrigerated. As I recall, we all were refrigerated. It was freezing but no one seemed to mind. It was the perfect weather for Christmas Eve in New York City.

[You know, this could have been a street festival in China Town. Christmas Eve makes a better story. Proceed.]

The young man approached us with a test product called Dove Bars. They were not yet on the market. He was passing them out, asking folks to give them a try and what they thought.

Its been almost 30 years since that original Dove Bar. My 1st in NYC. Tonight was my 2nd in NYC.

I'm glad we got to try it all those years ago. Kinda makes you wonder if something we said had anything to do with them being here today.

excuse me, my mind is going to wonder now...

1 comment:

UnknownAugust 14, 2013 at 10:54 AM
I absolutely loved this story. Beautifully written vignette!!
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Friday, 4/26/2013

Friday included doctor's visits, an MRI (my first ever), having 12 staples pulled out and witnessing a parade of life mostly featuring fellow veterans.

As a keen observer of the human condition, the parade of veterans @ Bronx hospital is a remarkable display of mostly men in various states of lucidity and flights of fancy. Until early afternoon Friday, I held a front row seat watching an endless stream of my fellow veterans coming and going.

Lots of them were suffering from making terrible choices; lots more were in agony from combat zone injuries. Their wives, girl friends, boy friends and various family members were colorful additions to the parade.

My serious abdominal surgery recovery pales in comparison to many many others. One man whizzed by on an electric-powered cart. He had no legs and was stomach-down, head up maneuvering deftly among and between the ambulatory, the wheel chairs. I detected a faint smile on his world weary face.

Saturday and today I feel worn down. I really wanted to be on hand for our Everyday Church seven baptisms this morning, especially for Adam. But, I did not want to be a distraction and my strength reservoir was depleted. So, I rested while Lindy lovingly and strongly represented our family.

More musings when the inspiration strikes!

Thursday, 4/25/2013

I walked out of the apartment, took the elevator to the lobby then gingerly stepped onto the sidewalk fronting our building. The breeze was fresh but the pungent odor of diesel oddly pierced the set piece.

Tomorrow morning will be a milestone. The 12 staples will be removed from the right side of my abdomen. After that presumably short exercise, I proceed to the MRI machine.

The MRI occurs after the staples are unfastened because --- please pay attention you physics and electrical engineering wizards --- there would likely be a magnetic incident in which I would be swept up into some sort of weird Star Wars/Star Trek black hole.

My dear Lindy continues to be the angel I do not deserve, the servant placed by God and the durable and enduring partner in this adventure.

Last week during my hospital campout, my friend Audrey came to see me with her mother. She sang a song infused with comfort and soothing words. It was just the right elixir that trumped the several needles stuck into my body. Thanks, Audrey. You are a sweetheart!

Today the sun is filling most every nook and cranny in Inwood. As my recovery continues, God's splendor is on display as is his magnificent, inexplicable healing power.

More musings...

It can now be revealed: If given a thousand votes I would vote a thousand times to be on the flying bridge ---- three stories above the main deck ---- in 40 foot seas v. enduring abdominal surgery.

But, hey, that may just be me.

While mostly prone in my seventh floor room last week, sounds became powerful benchmarks as the minutes inched by. One in particular sounded like a custodian's mop bucket with the squeeze mechanism. Another was the perpetual public address announcements: "Aslam Uru Kardasaf please call 3984."

In my drug-enhanced state just after being wheeled into the room, the announcements could have been something like: "Women's delicates, industrial solvents and infant specialities, fourth floor."

Today I got out of the apartment, out of the building and actually walked across the street with Lindy, of course, monitoring each step. Each day is progress; my voice is returning.

Well, don't worry, a certain unknown, maybe slightly legal drug inhibits me from showing those 752 slides which depict my edge-of-the seat, riveting Coast Guard life.

For now, Friends of Raymon, thank you for loving us. This life journey would have been pretty lame without you folks along for the ride!

Raymon's thoughts

4/15/13

Deep End...

The lead up to Wednesday's first surgery is a bit surreal. The first, first surgery was postponed less than twenty four hours before it was scheduled.

This adventure is somewhat reminiscent of the first day in the swimming pool during Coast Guard boot camp. None of us in the recruit company actually knew what it was like to jump in, swim laps and tread water. But, we managed.

Similarly, I don't know what to expect Wednesday morning when the surgeon and his team commence to dive into the deep end of my lower abdomen and seize the dysfunctional organ. What I do know is that God is in charge and Lindy and I are deferring to Him!

Raymon's Thoughts

4/12/2013

About this medical procedure scheduled to removed some unsound material from my innards...

During a lengthy walk below 23 Street between Seventh and Third Avenues last Saturday, I passed three store fronts each of which housed a psychic. The last of the three was most memorable because it was set off by a Sphinx.

Hmm...Sphinx; THE Sphinx? Pharaohs, Ramses, King Tut?

Had I entered and paid for psychic services, would I have been transported back in time and joined Moses and Aaron in their tete tete with Pharoah’s physics and mystics?

Would Pharaoh have ordered his magicians to heal the prostate and dysfunctional Adrenal gland? With a whistle for a NYC taxi cab, I was brought back to the Sphinx in the window. Why is it like in Pharoah’s day, people today put their faith in physics? People pay money so that a certified mystic will speak words mostly comforting.

What I know is that my sovereign God provides healing, comfort and love. This, I am sure: A psychic with a Sphinx in the window in New York City has not, does not and will not heal, predict the future and prescribe a perfect life path.