Blog archive
April 2024
Tulsa reparations, Religion and Politics
04/09/2024
March 2024
Trumps War with Black Women
03/31/2024
Addressing The Needs of Older Adults Through Pasadena Village
03/25/2024
Coming Soon: More Resources for Older Americans, Online and in Person
03/25/2024
Community Building Locally and Nationally
03/25/2024
Preparing for the Future with Ready or Not
03/25/2024
Volunteering is at The Heart of the Village
03/25/2024
Women's Liberation: Then and Now
03/25/2024
Writing Memoirs Together
03/25/2024
Current Views on Current Events
03/20/2024
Unchained
03/18/2024
Rumr of Humor issue # 2409
03/10/2024
Blacks Portrayed by European Artists
03/03/2024
Rumor of Humor #2408
03/03/2024
February 2024
Caring for Ourselves and Each Other
02/27/2024
Doug Colliflower Honored
02/27/2024
Great Decisions Connects Us to the Worldwide Community
02/27/2024
Letter from the President
02/27/2024
Pasadena Village's Impact
02/27/2024
The Power of Touch
02/27/2024
Villages as a New Approach to Aging
02/27/2024
Addressing Gang Violence in Pasadena-Altadena
02/21/2024
Rumor of Humor Issue 2407
02/19/2024
Thank You For Caring.
02/12/2024
Rumor of Humor 2405
02/11/2024
Curve Balls
02/10/2024
Sylvan Lane
02/10/2024
Rumor of Humor 2404
02/09/2024
Larry Duplechan, Blacks in Film
02/03/2024
January 2024
Pasadena Village Joins Community Partners in Vaccination Campaign
01/29/2024
Rumor of Humor #2403
01/28/2024
Pasadena Village Joins Two Healthy Aging Resource Projects
01/25/2024
Decluttering: Do It Now
01/24/2024
Village Volunteers Contribute to the Huntington Magic
01/24/2024
Villagers Creating Community
01/24/2024
Villagers Reflect on Black History Month
01/24/2024
Walk With Ease, 2024
01/24/2024
Wide Ranging Discussion on Current Issues
01/22/2024
Wide Ranging Discussion on Current Issues
01/22/2024
Rumor of Humor # 2402
01/21/2024
Rumor of Humor # 2401
01/15/2024
Re- Entry Programs, a Personal Experience
01/08/2024
A Christmas Goodbye
By Edward A. RinderlePosted: 12/02/2021
By Ed Rinderle
It's Christmas Eve, and the hospital emergency room is abuzz with activity. Hospital staffers hurry to and fro to help those in immediate need: a woman with a knife wound suffered while preparing Christmas dinner; an older gentleman shocked by faulty wiring while putting up Christmas lights; a young man writhing on a gurney, the victim of a gunshot wound; a middle aged women black and blue from being beaten with a shoe by her drunken husband.
Donny sits there, amid all the misery, feeling a different kind of pain. He has just brought in Laura, his beloved wife, who moments ago, in the midst of pre-Christmas preparations, suddenly dropped to the floor unconscious.
Donny anxiously waits for news from the doctors who are working to save his beloved. To counteract
his fears, he focuses on the Christmas tree in the nearby foyer and lets his mind drift to memories of
Christmases past . . .
Christmases of his youth. Returning from church with his sister, mom, and dad. Shedding their
“Sunday clothes” for more comfortable attire. The Christmas tree shining brightly in the picture window
and the carols on the stereo provide a perfect backdrop. The family opens their Christmas packages one
by one, taking turns. Later they play charades, then dine around the kitchen table. The food is great. The
wine flows. Laughter abounds. At the day’s end they retire, and Donny's heart is filled with joy and
peace.
He and Laura have had their share of special Christmases, too. They have borrowed some of the
memories from their childhoods and made them part of their own Christmases, usually with family or
friends. When alone, they would snuggle by the fire in their living room, enjoying the neighborhood
Christmas lights from their bay window. Donny cherishes all of these memories, too.
Donny longs for those Christmases past. He savors the sights, sounds, smells and tastes of those times.
Best of all, he can feel the love.
He wonders, “What will this Christmas hold? Or future Christmases?”
The answer comes as a shock, but not an entirely unexpected one: “I am sorry, Mr. Franklin, but your
wife has suffered a burst aneurysm in her brain.” The doctor shows Donny an x-ray image revealing a
dark shadow engulfing nearly half of Laura's skull. “We can keep her alive artificially, but any kind of
recovery is unlikely.” Donny has a difficult decision to make, but he knows that even if she revives, she
will be only a pale shadow of who she was.
Having made the decision, Donny enters Laura's room. She is sleeping peacefully, an array of machinery
keeping her body alive. He strokes her arm; he holds her hand. She feels so warm and alive. He whisper
words of love and appreciation to her for all the memories she has given him, Christmases and otherwise.
With a gentle kiss on her warm lips, he bids her a heart-felt goodnight. As he does, he seems to feel her
lips, ever so slightly, tighten against his. And the words of an old song flood into his head:
“So kiss me, my sweet,
And so let us part.
And when I grow too old to dream,
That kiss will live in my heart.”
Oscar Hammerstein, II