on listening ....                          

A CHICKEN IN EVERY MAILBOX?

                                            by jim richmond

    Off the wall humorist and author David Sedaris, in a recent book, said he finds most short story topics in his own life.

    “No one could be as bad, as crazy as I’ve been,” he told THE STRAND on BBC World Service Radio early one morning.

    Sedaris said he wrote a,story about his mother dying:

     "Then I wrote another one.

     "And then I wrote another one.

    "I realized I was writing too many stories about my mom dying. My readers were probably getting bored listening.”

     Truth is, our family life, colleagues and our friends are the quilted tapestry of our experiences.

     Many of my Internet blogs, short stories and newspaper columns over the past 40 years are snipits, snapshots, near instant perceptions about people, places and personal experiences....near as they happen.

    And I like to write about the good .... not the bad, the ugly in life ..... already a crowded closet of wringing hand writers.

      Many of my reflections are but a handful of paragraphs, written on the back of an envelope after watching someone.

    There is joy and satisfaction glimpsing common people doing uncommon good.

     It takes attention to catch these moments. Listening to catch these words, stories.

    And whether your Mom or a friend, active listening is an art and part, of loving or caring for someone. A singular sign of respect and value.

     One of the most remarkable examples of such listeners was Dr. Robert Sparks, a distinguished physician, former Vice Chancellor of the University of Nebraska system and dean of the Tulane University Medical School. (He grew up on a small farm near Newton, Iowa where he is buried this day.)

     Dr. Sparks was, when I first knew him, a program director in health for the W. K. Kellogg Foundation, and later its president and chief operating officer.

     No matter how busy, he had time to discuss your work and, in an informal way, your health problems if they were interfering with your professional performance.

     I remember the total attention, the listening skills, he applied and gave to people in work discussions.

      About 20 years ago, I spent several days with Bob, who'd retired, by then, on the West Coast, but had briefly returned to Battle Creek for a

speaking engagement.

    In failing health, he wanted to, so we slowly meandered by car throughout Battle Creek for several days.

    He talked about his volunteer and career efforts with the Battle Creek Symphony, as chair of the Lakeview School Board, as a volunteer helping to revitalize the local health department, efforts to attract new family practice physicians to Battle Creek and, his role in development of what has emerged into the comprehensive Family and Community Health Center at Washington and Emmett Street.

     (Bob laughed about serving on the Lakeview School Board, casting a dissenting, unpopular vote at a School Board meeting one night, and waking the next morning to find someone had stuffed a dead chicken in his mailbox.)

     Most of what he advocated, the positive changes he helped happen in Battle Creek were never recognized publicly. (I don't know if he cooked that chicken for dinner.)

    But he obviously cared a lot and quietly did a lot for Battle Creek over about 15 years ... and enjoyed retelling stories and challenges from the '80s. And, over the course of our two-day ride, I ended up admiring him even more, for his many questions about my own life, my children, changes in Battle Creek.

     I kept in touch with Dr. Sparks regularly over his last two decades of life, and he called twice to visit for a moment from his San Francisco hospital room as death approached, this always optimistic man choking back a sob the day before he died in a hermetically, germ free sealed off intensive care unit.

    We learn much from others, if we take time to listen and communicate.

     I struggle, with my own aches and pains, unpaid bills, perceived slights and sorrow, to paying attention in a conversation, asking those second or third revealibg questions, with those I love, admire or care about.

     Almost without exception, my best friends and loved ones listen when I need an ear, a smile, a word of encouragement.

     There are people, all around us in daily life and on TV, with no capacity to listen.

    They only know how to talk.

      How boring that must be.

‘Plumeria’ Floral and Crafts’ Turning

Local Woman’s Dream to Reality

By jim richmond

     Elisha Hodge was busy creating beautiful Holiday wreathes with red floral bows, when I stopped in this morning at her unique flowers, plants and gift shop, titled Plumeria Botanical Boutique, on Battle Creek’s near west side, 1364 W. Michigan Avenue.

     With help from her Mom Sandy and boyfriend Bryan, Elisha is literally turning a dream into a reality after two years of hard work: owning and operating her own floral, hand crafted decorations and crafts store.

     And perhaps her friendliest, but also most observant business “partner” is constant companion “Bella,” Elisha’s nearly snow white Great Pyrenees dog, who readily welcomes customers, but also keeps a bit of protective eye on her dear Elisha.

     Elisha’s W. Michigan Avenue shop is a visual delight, full of unusual craft, art and planted creations by Elisha and local and Michigan artists.

     Mom Sandy laughed, adding: “Elisha also runs a ‘Botanical Intensive Care Unit’.  Customers bring their plants in for Elisha’s special touch and recovery.” 

     She also keeps plants over the winter months for “Michigan snowbirds” who travel south, but might worry about the condition of their plants if left to a chance neighbor’s watering, before they returning home to Michigan in the spring.

     Elisha said she also enjoys designing, then delivering and helping arrange floral decorations for weddings and other family celebrations.

     Hodge grew up in nearby Union City, Michigan, and spent nearly 20 years in banking – experience which, she said, has come in handy on the management side of Plumeria.  She attended Kellogg Community College and has a bachelor’s degree in art from Central Michigan University.

     “Plumeria?  Where did the name originate for the business?” I asked. 

     Picked from a range of suggested names by friends on Facebook, she replied.

     (Plumeria plants (Plumeria sp), also known as Lei flowers and Frangipani, are actually small trees that are native to tropical regions. The flowers of these beautiful plants are used in making traditional Hawaiian leis.) 

     Plumeria.  A nice, special Battle Creek place for that unique Michigan craft gift, planter or flower arrangement.

     For information over the Internet:  www.plumeriami.com and also Facebook.  Or pick up the cell and talk with Elisha at 269.963.9499.

    Help a local business. Get a great gift for someone.

    And a local, talented woman working hard to achieve her dream.

 **********************

This blog is by Jim Richmond.  No compensation motivates his blogs and columns, just a  love and interest in people making a difference in our lives and our community.   Richmond welcomes input on his blog or Facebook columns:  jmadisonrichmond@gmail.com

Next Thursday Evening ... Free Concert ... Come on Out!!!!
 

Cereal City Concert Band Shares 30 Years

of Free Music and Civic Pride

By Jim Richmond

            When the Cereal City Concert Band once again launches into its stirring rendition of The Stars and Stripes Forever, welcoming area music lovers to the free outdoor performance Thursday, August 24, 7 pm on Leila Arboretum’s dramatic new outdoor Rustic Stage, it will mark 30 years of performances by this remarkable group of volunteer musicians.  

 
              And three of the original band members will be playing for their 30th year: Heather Lane Fowler, Kathy Philo and Gary Steiner.

 
              Nine months of the year, the Band’s 50-plus members meet once a week to practice, and then perform 4 seasonal concerts in October, December, February and April, with different musical themes carefully chosen by band members and Conductor Dr. Stephen White, who is also director of music and organ at St. Thomas Episcopal Church. The seasonal performances are in the Binda Theatre at Kellogg Community College.

 
              The Cereal City Concert Band has evolved from a small volunteer group of Federal Center employees, who began playing in 1987 for Federal Center ceremonies and events.  The original name of the group was Uncle Sam’s Band, but the band’s name and composition have changed over the years.

 
              Today, the Band is a nonprofit charitable organization that relies on admissions, donations and grants to cover expenses and a small Honoria for the Band’s music director.  All other band members practice and perform for free.  They include Federal Center employees and retirees, employees from such area businesses at Galloup and Kellogg, a lawyer, and area high school band directors.

 
              “We’re all different, but share a love of music and a love of performing,” said Band member Heather Lane-Fowler.  “That’s what brings us together, motivates us to practice every week, and to perform and share music with area residents for free.”

 
              Lane-Fowler said the Band is unique in Battle Creek for its additional schedule of free concerts throughout the summer at a variety of locations, including an assisted living center, music concerts like Leila Arboretum’s Leilapalooza, and for civic events in Ft. Custer Cemetery and other locations.

              Even with an all-volunteer band, it’s a struggle to raise the $3,000 to $4,000 the band needs each year for basic expenses.  “We always spend a bit more money on marketing and expenses than we raise, but we want our concerts to be known and available to everybody in Battle Creek,” she said. The Band relies on admissions, individual donations, and local foundation support.

 
Gary Steiner, another founding Band member, noted that just the day before being interviewed for this story, the Band had played its regular, free summer concert, spotlighting a jazz trio and singer, on the lakeside grounds of W. K. Kellogg’s beautiful manor house in nearby Augusta.

 
              “It was wonderful to see people of all backgrounds and ages, in this time of stress and political discord, come together to share an afternoon of music.  It was a reminder that most of us in America are getting along, and going along our daily lives,” Steiner said.

              For more information on the Cereal City Concert Band schedule, or to donate toward the Band’s annual expenses, go to: http://www.cerealcityconcertband.org. Lane-Fowler can be reached at: 269-962-2153.

----------------------

Photo Captions: 

Cereal City Concert Band performing at this year’s Leilapalooza Music Festival

Closeup of Band members performing

Heather Lane Fowler

Gary Steiner

Emphasis on Atmosphere, Quality Care, Safe Outcomes

At New, Independent Surgical Care Centers

By jim richmond

     Right before wheeling me into the operating room Tuesday, nurse Karen (who ensured continuity and timeliness of care) leaned over the bed, nudged me to take a wide, black magic marker, and prompted, “Sir, please take this, and mark your initials on the wrist of the hand we’ll be operating on this morning.”

     So, I took the marker, moved the plastic iv drip cord on my left wrist out of the way, and carefully drew the letters: J R smack dab, 100 percent in the middle, in the equivalent of 36-point type, on my right-hand wrist.

     “Very good!” Karen beamed at me. She would stay with us throughout our visit and had been part of a one week before pre-op visit at my surgeon’s office.

     Now as way of brief literary back story, my specialist doctor had sent me to a non-hospital, independent ambulatory surgery center.  And it was about as far from a hospital setup as you could find – even in this day of sometimes startling health care change for many Americans.

      The surgery center was more like the lobby and Palm Court restaurant at New York’s swank, beautiful-people Plaza Hotel, including a BIJOU Theatre to show new flicks while your relatives waited, big palm plants, first class, low back, cushy chairs, a coffee bar and gallery of small shops featuring pricey ties, gold-lettered t-shirts and knick-knacks, just like The Plaza.

     The “back of the shop” was equally as efficient and inviting – 8 to 12 curtained corrals, for each patient in pre-op or recovery, and with more nurses, doctors, family members and traffic than the Meijer’s supermarket shopping aisles on a Sunday afternoon.  Except here everyone smiled, made eye contact and did not bump into your cart. And Karen kept track and us moving ahead to the actual surgery on schedule.

     I was accompanied by my oldest son (the required Responsible Adult), me in the private coral's surgery bed, and watched over by Karen. Over the course of about 1 hr 15 minutes, she hooked me up to the iv and checked my vitals. 

     During that time span, I spent about 7 minutes in a brief repeat here’s-what-to-expect- visit with my engaging, task-focused surgeon, and a 3-minute review with a thin, somewhat jittery anesthesiologist.

     Many of you already know the end of this little story from my last Facebook page. The surgery went well.  I’m home and headed back to work soon.

     But in telling you about Karen the nurse, the black marker, and the “JR” written on my right wrist, I forgot one detail. She also asked my son if I had a (Do Not Resuscitate) on file. “If so, we can’t take him. He’ll have to go to a hospital, instead.  Because we resuscitate everyone here.”

     That positive, optimistic outcome attitude is felt by and encouraging for patients. Of course, it’s also a function of the ambulatory surgery center’s mission within the rapidly, some would say ever changing American health care system.

     The system is striving, struggling to bring down costs and to provide services in the safest, least intrusive setting for patients who do not require more intense and costly inpatient hospital care.

     The new, independent ambulatory surgery center is the same and yet quite different from hospital inpatient facilities. Their relationships with the physicians and other health care providers can be different, and seem more collegial.

     Patients reportedly receive more personal attention, better continuity of care, and patient infection rates are often lower than surgery and care in a large hospital.

     Yet the ambulatory surgical center’s physician specialists may do 6 to 10 operations, each of several days a week.

     As patients, we want them, the total surgical team, to get all our own J Rs right, before reaching the cutting table.

     That certainly proved the case for this guy known as JR.

==========================================

The author wrote this blog, voice to text, from a comfortable home bed, 3 a.m. Wednesday morning. His apologies for any typo or grammar oversights.

NIGHT FLIGHT

The Navy enlisted man interviewed the last F-4 pilot, fresh from a bombing run on the Haiphong ammunition dumps of North Vietnam, part of the US Air Force and LBJ’s ‘Rolling Thunder” campaign against North Vietnam targets.

The pilot had lost a wingman to an S-2 missile, distracted by a pair of Mig-15’s set to engage the Phantom, and was still shaking, as he talked to the enlisted man, gulping a small white foam cup of day-old black coffee.

ELEVATOR SHOES

I got an hour-long "pre-op" exam the other day, which started with the usual weigh-in, height measurement and blood/pressure checks.

"Take your shoes off," said the nurse, ready to record my height.

"5' 5'"

That can't be right, I responded. I've ALWAYS been 5' 6 1/2'

"Ok, but you better get elevator shoes. 5'5"," the nurse said.

I got thinking on the drive home, how my 4'11 Mom lost at least 4 inches in height during her late '70s to late '80s.

If I live that long, I'll probably have other things to worry about than elevator shoes.

"

Thank you for reaching out to me."

by jim richmond

A lot of really hip people are starting their emails and responses with "I thought I'd just reach out to you" or "Thank you for reaching out to me."

It has kind of soft warm feeling to it? Like your wife or girlfriend offering you that last blanket when you're sitting in the MSU stands, fouth quarter, 7- 49 Michigan, and the Windchill index is -30°.

"WHEN THE NEVA THAWS'

by jim richmond

     Snow blanketed the ice-covered Neva, as the couple strolled arm in arm across the Kamennoostrovsky Bridge, then glancing in expensive Western style shop windows on Nevsky Prospect.

     "You like Piter. Don't you? You keep coming back and back," she asked, snuggling close against the howling wind coming down from the Gulf of Finland.

     "Is Hermitage why? The ballet? Or me?"

     "Ah, Hermitage is always a favorite, the ballet, in your lovely St. Petersburg," he sidestepped. "This trip, the guide took me in back rooms, the Nazi advances shot holes where paintings had hung."

     She went on about their seeing magician David Copperfield, the same restaurant the night before, in town for a performance.

     "You know he's really Russian," she said proudly, "David Kotkin."

    Tugging playfully at his coat, she laughed and said, "Are we getting engaged, soon?"

     "Americans take these things slowly. Perhaps when the Neva thaws, he replied.

HOW DO I KILL THE TWITTER MONSTER?

by jim richmond

     Somewhere in the dim recesses of time and memory, I must've signed up for Twitter.

     Now it ranks up there with sore ankles in the morning, telephone sales calls at 6 PM, no return calls from civic poo bas, and the lady right ahead with 85 grocery items in the "12 items or less" checkout line at Meijers.

     All I get on Twitter is a constant overflow of high school GOAT zingers from the last sports reporter standing at the Battle Creek Enquirer newspaper, and City Neighborhood tweets about lost dogs and uncut grass.

In fact, there's so many of the latter, I wonder if a gnome sits in the closet of the city manager's office, cranking out these tweets from 8 to 5.

     If anyone can tell me how to get rid of Twitter, I'll be all a Twitter.

     Thank God I didn't tweet up with The Donald.

“IT’S NOT YOU, IT’S ME.”

by jim richmond

If you live long enough, and are involved in enough serious relationships, a woman will one day give you the bad news about wanting to breakup by explaining, “It’s not you, it’s me.”

                                LIFE'S LAST CURTAIN CALL

                                                            by jim richmond

     Not long ago, a friend asked me to write an obituary.  I interviewed the person and then wrote the obituary, which ran to 5 or 6 pages.

     People are often shocked by how much a newspaper obituary costs. (It’s one of the last profit centers of the Battle Creek Enquirer, according to its former executive editor.)

     Trying to think ahead, at 72, and wanting things to go easy after I die, I wrote and sent my son my obituary.  I thought I should do that anyway.  (Most of my relatives think I’ve just drank beer, changed jobs, read books and changed wives.)

     I think everyone should write their own obituary. Some would want and need one paragraph.  Others would include everything from Ducks Unlimited Membership to the Rotary Club Presidency.  After all, it’s both a personal catharsis, and formal reference/record of existence as well as death.

     (No need to talk about what I might have accomplished or impact.  That seems a very subjective thing to me.)

     Still, wouldn’t it be nice, I thought, if we could all be Tom Sawyer, attend our own funeral and hear the minister say nice things about us?  And if that’s not possible, couldn’t we all at least see our obituary published before we die.

     Now with the cost of newspaper obits, where and what are our options? 

     Perhaps Facebook?  (I know, you’re thinking, there are already many obituaries on FB, they’re just not usually in one post.)

     But here’s mine.  I figure it will reach all, and more, friends than a newspaper obit.

    If it catches on, Mark Zuckerberg will figure out how to make it a profit center.

     Now I’m going to sit here all day, drink ice tea, and think about whether I want to come back as a bird or a plant.

James M. Richmond

              James M. Richmond, __, of Battle Creek, Michigan, passed away June , 20__ at home, following a short illness.

               He was the first full-time president/CEO of the Battle Creek Community Foundation, a vice president and Battle Creek program officer for the W. K. Kellogg Foundation, first president of the Frey Family Foundation in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and president of the Greater Greenville Community Foundation, South Carolina.

               Richmond also was president/ceo of the Humane Society of Southcentral Michigan, and most recently was part-time staff member and fundraising consultant for the Leila Arboretum Society in Battle Creek.

               From 1968 through 1970, he served in the United States Navy, and made combat deployments off North Vietnam aboard the attack aircraft carrier USS Coral Sea (CVA 43).

               He served on the District public relations staff of the Metropolitan Community Colleges (Kansas City) in the early 1970s and was engaged in the development of its three new campuses.  Richmond also held similar positions with the District staff of the three-campus Cuyahoga Community College, Cleveland, Ohio.

               Richmond was born September 8, 1944 in Kansas City, Missouri, the son of Charles E. and Mary H  (McNamara) Richmond.  He attended Our Lady of Perpetual Help (Catholic) school, and was a graduate of De La Salle Academy, both in Kansas City.  

               He earned a bachelor’s degree in English from the University of Missouri-Kansas City, and master’s degree in business from Nazareth College, Kalamazoo, Mi.

               He was preceded in death by his parents.  Family members surviving are: twin brother John W. of Albany, Missouri; sister Martha Ann (Borkowski) of South Bend, Indiana, and sons Joshua C., of Williamston, Mi and Scott A. of Columbus, Georgia.  He is also survived by two cherished grandchildren, Gabriella and Jackson  and daughter-in-law Kristina K. Richmond, all of Williamston.

               His remains have been cremated. No memorial service will be held

BYE BYE MISS AMERICAN PIE

by jim richmond

    The number of Americans who would be upset if their son or daughter married outside their political party has tripled in the last 20 years, according to sociologists.

    "Mom, dad, I want you to meet Billy, The love of my life and we're going to get married!"

Polly Taylor:

Living Life by Simple Rules, and To The Fullest

Figure 1 Polly Taylor on her apt porch at Northpointe Woods.  She loved hats and 'giving out hugs' to everyone.

By jim richmond

     The last thing Polly Taylor wanted was to go quietly into the night without family, or celebration.

     And so her passing was a time of celebration, as well as dying.

     Two daughters and three granddaughters spent that last day with Polly, as she lay in the hospice care room bed, having just weeks before celebrated her 100^th birthday, this final time, with vital signs weakening, still conscious, looking around at family, holding, squeezing and kissing their hands.

     Polly's granddaughter Wendy, a university professor of voice, sang to Polly most of her final hours.

     Mrs. Taylor, was barely 5 feet tall, with beautiful red hair, a small woman who radiated a love of life and people, according to daughter Teresa McCleery, in a recent interview.

      Teresa had spent the prior two weeks reading to her Mom. Over her long lifetime, Polly, herself, was a voracious reader of books and poetry, and compiled her favorite poetry and greeting card sentiments in six, well-worn and referenced poetry notebooks.  

     “Mom would go to them (the notebooks) in times of trouble.  They gave her peace because they dealt with themes of love, friendship, family, caring,” recalled Teresa.  Polly would also extract and use notebook passages on cards to individual family members, and kept record of when and to whom she sent each passage or poem.

     Polly was a bit of a free spirit, raised in a Baptist Minister family in Hillsdale, Michigan, striking out at age 17, determined to work and save her money to attend Michigan State University, where she was to eventually meet, and later marry John.

     Polly and John owned and operated Capital Florists on N.E. Capital Avenue in Battle Creek. 

     She was known as a superb wedding floral designer, working with the brides-to-be to match flowers with bridesmaid dresses.   Polly would sometimes speed between 6 or 7 wedding sites on a Saturday.

    “Capital Florists was a real partnership.  Dad was business-minded.  Mom was the creative one,” said Teresa.

    Also raising the four children, Sandy, Barbara Thom and Teresa, Polly believed in a clear, practical philosophy: “Life doesn’t have to be that hard, follow the simple rules, be kind to each other,” remembered Teresa.

    Still in their mid-50s, John and Polly decided to retire from the business and pursue what had been a favorite family activity -- travel. They traveled for more than a decade, often with youngest daughter Teresa,  across the globe  “for the learning of it,” visiting some 65 countries, from the Holy Land to the South Pacific, Asia to Australia.

    John died in 1998.  Polly would spend her last 10 years living in the NorthPointe Woods retirement community in Battle Creek.  She was known for her many hats and for “giving out hugs” to everyone.

    In those years, and as the most geographically accessible, adult child, Teresa would visit her Mom daily, taking her to music and art events, reading to her, and on car rides about Battle Creek.

    “Mom especially liked stopping on the overlook in Leila Arboretum, and appreciating the field of yellow daffodils that roll like a summer carpet down the hill to the (Arboretum) fountain,” Teresa said.

    Much as Polly and her family celebrated life and love on that last day, August 13, 2015, she asked that her cremated ashes not just be put in the ground or part of a mausoleum, Teresa said.

    Following Polly’s wishes, and as she lived life,  her ashes were spread in Australia, Caribbean, the Pacific coast of California, Arizona, Mississippi River, and with her children and grandchildren in Wisconsin and Michigan.

    “Mom wanted to be, and is all over the place,” Teresa laughed.

    Generous supporters to many Battle Creek charities during their lifetimes, John and Polly Taylor also left substantial charitable bequests in Battle Creek, including to the Music Center of Southwest Michigan and the Leila Arboretum Society.

OUTBREAK OF AUSTRALIAN LICORICE DISEASE THREATENS BATTLE CREEK MALES

     An outbreak of the dreaded Australian Licorice Disease (ALD) has reportedly struck the Battle Creek, Michigan area, according to the U.S. Center for Candy Related Addictions (CCRA), Atlanta, GA, and is allegedly responsible for long hospital ER lines of men complaining of belly bloat, uncontrollable midnight cravings, and using personal money allocated for food and clothing instead to acquire the small, shiny, rare chunks of chooey, semi-sweet licorice.

     “We're shocked this addiction may now reach to the highest echelons of Battle Creek government as well as the very lows of poor old people identified as living on the near South Side (of Battle Creek),” said a CCRA expert on the disease’s genesis and spread first in Australia and now in the little American midwest town known instead for health promotion and nutrition.

     The Australian version of the licorice is unique, addicts assert, currently available at relative high prices and at limited locations in Battle Creek.

     "Oh My God," one wayward soul inappropriately blurted out, "I'd rather have 15 pieces of Australian licorice than a piece of Daryl Hannah."

     There have also been several unconfirmed cases of wives enticing their husbands to try the licorice, making them susceptible to no-contest divorce, binge licorice-and-group-sex parties, to vote for Hillary Clinton or convert to the Republican Party in exchange for licorice money.

     “I can’t tell you how dangerous this affliction can be,” said an unnamed but high-ranking city official.

     Another Battle Creek resident, interviewed for this story in the Lakeview area exclaimed: “I've been trying to break this habit for years. I'm hoping the City Fathers (and Mothers) will address this problem.”

CHATTER BOXES

by jim richmond

     With a fresh cup of strong enough Navy Jo (will the spoon stand in the coffee on its own?), I love to sit on the porch at 4:30 a.m. with the Dinkster, and listen to the birds chatter, welcoming in another day.

FAITES A LES MIENS ROTI FRANCAIS, S'IL VOUS PLAIT
Make mine French Roast, please

By jim richmond

Dr. Russ Mawby:

“IT’S JUST A HOUSE” 

By jim richmond

Nearly every Friday, Dr. Russ Mawby, my mentor and close friend of 40 years, and I have lunch at the same small restaurant, Dandelion, just up the road a piece from his Hickory Corners, Michigan home. We always have diet Cokes. He has a BLT sandwich. I usually have the Friday special. And more often than not, we top lunch off with homemade bread pudding.

Russ is the most brilliant, thoughtful person of my lifetime. And for 25 years, he was CEO of the now $7 billion W. K. Kellogg Foundation. Where I also worked for awhile.

Retired now some 20 years, Russ is and was unassuming. Often as not, he'd answer his own phone at the Foundation, and his door was open to one and all.

He turns 89 on February 23rd, his memory, sight and hearing have faded a bit, and Russ has overcome a host of lifetime illnesses,  4 1/2 years confined to a wheelchair, the death of his wife of 50 years, Ruth, and their son, Doug.

His wife of some 15 years, Lou Ann, greeted me at the back door this morning. Always with a smile, but she explained that a disconnected pipe had flooded their fully finished first floor "with about 55 gallons of water."

Carefully using walker and then cane, Russ gets in my car passenger seat, as we pull down their driveway, heading to the restaurant for our Friday time together. A highpoint of my week.

"Terrible about the water damage," I comment to him.

"No people got hurt. It's just a house," he replied.

He has always put people above things, possessions, titles and refused most of the usual trappings of success and international fame for his work and that of the Foundation.

"Just a small time farmer from Hickory Corners," he would describe himself to U.S. Presidents or other world leaders who regularly visited the Foundation.

"Only people are important, Jim," he has so often reminded me.

It's just a house.

  A ‘Ride Along’ with Officer Rabbitt No Fairytale

By Jim Richmond

     No, the above title might sound like a Grimm’s Fairy Tale book title, but it had nothing to do with a bedtime story, nor tucking a four-year old under nighttime covers.

     Instead, it was a bit gritty and “grim” at times, a four-hour “ride along” in the late afternoon last week with Battle Creek Police Officer Chris Rabbitt, as he drove his assigned area on the lower East side and Post Addition of Battle Creek.

     As a ride along ‘citizen guest’, I still had to wear a “bullet proof vest,” and while our conversation was friendly, it was mostly about business and during business.

     Peppering Officer Rabbit, 34, at times about background and family, he never took eyes and ears off the road and the laptop computer mounted next to his steering wheel.

     He grew up in Battle Creek and is a 2000 St. Phil Academy graduate who completed a 17-week law enforcement program at Kalamazoo Valley Community College. 

     He and his wife lived in South Carolina for a brief time, where he also worked in law enforcement, but wanted to be closer to their family in the Battle Creek area.

     So they moved back, today have three children and his wife teaches advanced placement courses at a Battle Creek area school.

     He stopped when we started to pull away from the downtown Battle Creek Police headquarters, went back in to get a supply of NARCAN, an antidote to the scourge of drug overdoses, ER visits and even related deaths plaguing Battle Creek right now.

     “We get drug calls several times a week,” Rabbitt said.  “A few days ago, the drugged out boyfriend failed to call police in time.  His overdosed girlfriend was dead by the time I got on scene.”

      It’s these kinds of contacts, and domestic violence calls, that are often most difficult, he added, “perhaps because they remind me of my own kids.”

     Rabbitt slowly weaved his way through the neighborhoods, casually half waving to people on the street, letting them know, he said, that the police are a positive presence.

     But during our “ride around” together, he also responded to a domestic abuse complaint, issued a ticket to a driver who blew through a stop sign, and made several other stops about drivers over the speed limit or not in possession of their car registrations papers, which is required.

     Rabbitt wasn’t wearing a body camera, but with almost the same result:  the audio discussion between him and each engaged citizen was recoded, and the dash camera on the police car was positioned to give a clear visual account and taping of the interaction.

     “Is it tough being a cop these days with people more disrespectful?” I asked Rabbitt.

     “You know, this many not be the usual, but what I really notice, and appreciate, is all the people who are now stopping thanking me for my service,” he said.  “You give people respect.  You get respect.”

     Chief of Police Jim Blocker told me, however, the explosion of social media – instantly available over the Internet -- sometimes accurate, sometimes theatrical, staged, confrontational – is having a wearying down impact on police officers and law enforcement recruitment.

     “I tell our people (police) that we have been guilty of stereotyping ourselves.  No doubt about it.  But we have to ‘lean into the problem’ by talking with each other, and by dealing with it from both the police and pubic perspectives,” he said.

     There’s a challenge recruiting young people to law enforcement careers, especially women and people of color, because of the social media uproar and negativity about police work right now, he said.  But Blocker sees the glass half full, not half empty.

     It’s a priority for him.

     We’re doing lots of things to change and improve, and be more transparent.  And I’m very proud of our people,” Blocker said, signaling perhaps a bit impatiently that the phone interview was about over.

     I paused, and thought what the hell about the question: 

     “Chief, I went through the police building waiting for Officer Rabbitt.  The place looks terrible.  Out of date. Worn out, chipped paint on the walls, old metal desks.  How can you ask people to work here?  Especially the stressful work they do.”

     Chief Blocker said the building is 46 years old.  It looks 90 years old.

     “But we’re excited about the new police headquarters that will soon be built across the street. Financing seems in place.  We could have the new facility ready in 18 months,” the Chief said.

LEAVING TIME AT CHRISTMAS TIME

by jim richmond

Blowing snow here in Battle Creek, when the phone rang at 2 a.m.

 MY MIND HAS A HEART OF ITS OWN

     At what age does your mind start separating itself from your body?  Near my age, aged 72?

     Shaving this morning, I teeter back and forth on my feet, like a kid’s first steps on roller skates.

     No longer is my walk confident and firm.  Now with “drop foot” in the right leg, I never know when the brain will skip a beat to control my feet, and suddenly I drag my right foot while walking.

     My brain is very conscious of its dependence on the heart, lungs and other aging body parts – dependence for its own survival.  Like driving a used car that is approaching 100,000 miles – the brakes start going, the transmission leaks fluid, the ride gets rough, and each time you turn the ignition, you think “will it start today?” 

     “What’s going to go wrong next?”

     So my heart stopped six times on the hospital bed that day several years ago.  Shock paddles brought me back literally from death’s very door, to consciousness and my brain said to itself: “Jimmy, I don’t think you’re going to make it this time.”

     Of course, I did. 

     My brain wish it had a new body, with GPS, brake and backup warning lights and stop control.

     But it has to live within the flesh, bones, weaknesses and sickness of the body that carries it around, and makes possible enjoying this wonderful condition called “living.”

     Every day is a blessing.

     Yes, my mind has a heart of its own.

RUTH PUII: SURVIVES DANGEROUS

ROAD TO U.S. CITIZENSHIP

                                                                      by jim richmond

Ruth Puii has waited nine years for this day, and traveled thousands of miles, walking barefoot, traveling by small boat over dangerous waters, as a Burmese ethnic and religious refugee. 

Today, Ruth was sworn in as a U.S. Citizen in official ceremonies in Grand Rapids.

With Ruth is her 20 year old daughter, Lydia, and both work as seasonal staff members at the Leila Arboretum‘s urban farm.

Yesterday, Leila staff and volunteers gathered, with cake, American flags, gifts and Ruth’s favorite American delights – orange diet pop and Doritos – to help recognize and celebrate her accomplishments.

After two months of study, Ruth passed her citizenship tests with a perfect score of 100. 

A quiet, unassuming person who like her daughter, are tremendous workers, Ruth, her husband Joseph, and four children are now in the United States.

They traveled as members of the Chin Christian tribe, minority refugees from largely Buddish Burma,  and without passports, on the long journey by walking, bus and small boat  through Thailand and Malaysia before getting to America.

Along the way, they were harassed by Malaysia police, put in a refugee camp, spent 27 days in a bare room, and often had little water and no food.

But all that is behind them.  Ruth said she is surprised at all the opportunities she has already had in America, and daughter Lydia is a nursing student at Kellogg Community College.

Leila’s Executive Director Brett Myers: “We feel so honored to have Ruth and Lydia on our staff. 

They are part of the Leila family, as well as the national and diverse  “American family” all of us so love.

---

WHAT MAKES JIM HAADSMA RUN .....

by Jim Richmond

At age 58, with kids in or just finishing college, a busy law practice, plus a host of civic and church interests and commitments, what makes Jim Haadsma run so hard for the Michigan 62nd House seat, after his 4th term as Calhoun County Commissioner, and facing a financially well-healed opponent?

"EXCUSE MY BROKEN ENGLISH"

By jim richmond

"Excuse my broken English," the young internist from Kazakhstan, kept saying. I went for a primary care appt., and volunteered to spend time instead so she could practice a complete primary care patient workup. She had practiced as an MD in the former part of the Soviet Union.

"Ah I have been to St. Petersburg three times," I tell her, "and am finishing a wonderful book on the Russians' defense of both St. Petersburg and Moscow in 1941."

"Oh, you mean 1943," she said, "if I know my history well."

I thought, 'No, I mean late 1941, when over 1 million Russians, more than the total lost by US and England, died in defense of Moscow.'

But I said nothing, enthralled a bit by her.

"Oh, forgive my broken English," she repeated, asking concise, perceptive health questions and knowing the counter indications and names of all the heart, blood pressure and other medications I take daily..

My primary care GNP came in the room after 45 minutes. "Would you like a private review with your patient?," my Kazakhstan doctor asked.

"No," my regular GNP replied.

And then Dr. Kazakhstan orally summarized my medical history and its implications in a ten minute, precise monologue, that had my GNP standing a bit agog.

"Patient is 71 year old male. In excellent physical and mental health for patient's age, I believe," she begins in preface.

After that, I started to fall in love. She could've looked like Uncle Joe Stalin and been smoking his pipe.

Somehow, I think the Kazakhstan doctor, young and perhaps a bit rusty on WWII history, will do fine in America as a physician.

We are lucky to have folks like her immigrate to America. 

​

I wanted to ask HER a thousand questions.

Leaving,  I felt fortunate to have this unusual, long experience, and to perhaps contributed a bit to this remarkable young professional's  licensing and/or board certification here

SOME SEE A CIVIC PROBLEM AND CRY 'WHY?"

SOME ASK "HOW CAN WE MAKE IT BETTER?"

In 2008-20010, a campaign cabinet headed by Russ Mawby, Shanon Legg, Patti Miller,  Brenda Hunt, John Collins, Erv Brinker, Julie Tindol, Jim Richmond, Roy Tooke and others, raised $850,000 for a new Alano Club building on Territorial Road in Battle Creek, to serve area people of all ages, socio-economic and racial backgrounds,  seeking recovery from drugs, alcohol, gambling, overeating and other addictions.

At the time, the area's AA meetings were held in the former, broken down, smoke-filled, wretched former Battle Creek Township police building at the same Territorial Road location.

Today this bright, functional building on Territorial hosts more than 35 meetings a week, 365 days a year for recovering alcoholics, drug addicts, others with addictions, as well as their family members, and special meetings for those who speak Spanish. It works closely with the Substance Abuse Council, Drug Court, Summit Pointe and other providers.

Battle Creek "CAN DO IT" when it wants to...and with the right leadership.

WHERE IT ALL BEGAN

by jim richmond

Not much left but the graffiti covered the remains of; "Colors on The Corner," a nightclub at the corner of Kendall and Hamblin tonight when I drove by, but it was, in decades past near the location where Helen Montgomery ran her famous and later infamous El Grotto Lounge.

Here started black and cross over music greats Junior Walker and the All Stars (famous for "Shotgun," and buried in Battle Creek's Oak Hill Cemetery), Al Green, Jr., and Wade Flemons, cofounder of Earth, Wind and Fire, and where he had his first hit "Here I stand."

Bobby Holley, "Mr. Entertainment, part preacher, part social activist, great musician..... is still around and threatening to start up his fast paced, rockin jazz influenced, Chuck Berry style live music show again.(Can hardly wait!!!)

In its later years, the El Grotto also became notorious for gun and fist fights.

Retired Battle Creek Police Detective Barbara Connelly Walters told me about her own “duet” with Junior Walker:

As a patrol officer at BCPD I was called to a domestic. They were fighting and the man hit the woman in the head with a cereal bowl (ironic as we are the cereal city). He was arrested for domestic violence. As I was driving him to the BCPD jail (now extinct) I asked him to sing "Shotgun" for me. It was Junior Walker aka Autry DeWalt . He did and we laughed all the way downtown. As he was led into the jail to be booked in he was still singing. You cannot make this stuff up...true story! 

Talk to Bobby Holley, though, he's tell you about the rich Motown like music history that was a big part of Battle Creek for years.

Here's a link to Junior Walker and the All Stars performing on TV:  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YnhI_ECOAK4

ON LISTENING

by jim richmond

Humorist and author David Sedaris, in his latest book, says he finds most short story topics in his own life.

“No one could be as bad, as crazy as I’ve been,” he told THE STRAND on BBC World Service Radio early one morning.

Sedaris said he wrote a,story about his mother dying.

"Then I wrote another one.

And then I wrote another one.

I realized I was writing too many stories about my mom dying. My readers were probably getting bored listening.”

Truth is, our family life, colleagues and our friends form the core of our experiences.

Many of my own blogs, short stories and newspaper columns over the past three decades are based on people, places and personal experiences.

And some of them are as indelible as joy and happiness, or death and dying.

Whether your Mom, or a friend, real listening, too, is an art and part, of loving or caring for someone.

And it’s not always easy.

Other priorities, distractions try to crowd in the mind and the day. .

One of the most vivid examples of such listeners was Dr. Robert Sparks, a distinguished physician, former Vice Chancellor of the University of Nebraska system and dean of the Tulane University Medical School. (He grew up on a small farm near Newton, Iowa where he is buried this day.)

Dr. Sparks was, when I first knew him, a program director in health for the W. K. Kellogg Foundation, and later its president and chief operating officer.

No matter how busy, he had time to discuss your work and, in an informal way, your health problems if they were interfering with your professional performance.

I remember the total attention, the listening skills, he applied and gave to people in work discussions.

About ten years ago, I had the pleasure of spending several days with Bob, who had retired on the West Coast, but returned to Battle Creek for a speaking engagement.

In failing health, he wanted to, so we travelled by car throughout Battle Creek. He talked about his volunteer and career efforts with the Battle Creek Symphony, as chair of the Lakeview School Board, as a volunteer helping to revitalize the local health department, efforts to attract new family practice physicians to Battle Creek and, his role in development of what has emerged into the comprehensive Family and Community Health Center at Washington and Emmett Street.

Much of what he advocated, the positive changes he helped make happen in Battle Creek were never recognized publicly.

But he enjoyed retelling those stories and difficulties from the '80s. And I ended up admiring him even more, for his many questions about my own life, my children, changes in Battle Creek, and other topics during our two day car ride together

I kept in touch with Dr. Sparks regularly over his last decade, and we talked on the phone two times from his hospital room in the final week as death approached, he choking off a sob when he called the day before he died in his hermetically, germ free sealed off room in a northern California hospital.

We learn much from others, if we take time to truly listen and communicate.

Today, I still struggle to ask questions, listen to those I love or care about.

Almost without exception, my close friends and loved ones have the capacity to listen when I need an ear, a smile, a word of encouragement.

There are many people with no capacity to listen. They only know how to talk.

How boring that must be.

HAPPY DAYS IN HIPPYLAND

My exwife Anne would have just turned age 70.

Not long ago, a Kansas City cousin sent me a copy of Anne's obituary. She died in 2006 of breast cancer.

We were college sweethearts. She, sharper than I, graduated first in her class at a large regional university.

We married while I was on leave from the Navy and had a cool place on one of the rolling streets in the Twin Peaks area of San Francisco. 1968-71.

Janis Joplin lived just several blocks up from us, and she would whiz by in her psychedelic painted porsche, as we sat on the steps, with her then boyfriend, Joe McDonald, of the music group Country Joe and The Fish ("Don't Give A Damn, Ain't Going To Vietnam"), and marveled at Janis' drinking habits and capacity.

We would stroll down to Golden Gate Park on my free weekends, and watch outdoor gigs by Joplin, Canned Heat, BB King, Cream, Jefferson Airplane.

Interesting times.
While I was in the Pacific, away on an aircraft carrier that was attacking North Vietnamese trails into the South, Anne met new friends in San Francisco.

When our carrier returned, she met me at the pier with another young woman, introduced us, and told me that while I was gone she'd realized she was gay,. We divorced not long after,

Over the decades we stayed in touch by phone or coffee shop visit about once a year -- I never completely getting over her.

In Kansas City during 2003 for my Mom's funeral, I was surprised when Anne showed up at the funeral and then lunch afterwards. We chatted briefly.

It was a terrible snow storm, and I was anxious to get on the road back to Michigan. I cleaned my car windows off, got in the red VW bug,to start the trip, when I heard a knock on the car window.

It was Anne. She got in the car.

"Jim," she said, "do you think we might try to start all over again?" (I didn't know she was seriously ill.)

"No,it's too late, and times are too different for that," I said to her, not unkindly, but thinking about the 33 years that had past, and the way we parted as a couple emotionally on that Navy pier.

She opened the door and got out of the car. It would be our last contact.

Calling her with a sudden urgent feeling in 2006, her sister answered. "Jim," she said, "Anne died yesterday of cancer."

Thinking back on that snowy evening in 2006, that brief chat in the car, I wondered what I might have said or done differently if I'd known she was ill. And perhaps needed my help or company desperately.

The question and the memory stay with me today.

But so, too, do the good times and laughs in San Francisco with Anne in '68-71. A very unique, short window of place and social change. And more than a little heartache and pain.

I hope, if there's a Heaven, Anne is happy, remembers me with affection -- and those pseudo hippy, happy times -- as I do her, and that chapter in our lives..

But I dont know anyone who has been able to go back and recreate the past. We learn from it,and move on.