BrDevon

And I just thought the function he had in mind was to exchange some wood for some paper (namely, a paycheck).

Not always... sometimes he just sells the tree to Home Depot or Lowes Sorry... couldn't resist.

Nature does it all the time. I'm certain no tree knew it was going to become part of a house, nor any plant or creature part of a meal.

I want to take a moment to thank all of you. Why? As members of this forum, you have had an impact on my life as a minister of the ULC as well as a moderator of this forum. Ten years ago, Br. Kevin processed my request to become a minister, and my ordination was recorded into the church records ten years ago today. I only hope that I can serve the church in ways as meaningful as the service that Br. Kevin, Murph, and an ever growing group of people I consider extended family and close mentors do. I am called to a life of service, and I am proud to be able to say that I am a minister of the ULC. I am especially grateful to Br. Kevin, who has kept the ULC.net site alive and running all this time. Without him, this forum and this answer to my calling would not be possible. I celebrate ten years today. May it only be the beginning of a life of service to the ULC.

Buy it now... Shamrock shakes are almost out of season again. I haven't had one of those in years!

I think I saw your class reunion on TV the other day. The news had a feature spot on a local alpaca farm. Didn't know alpacas hung out in New England.

I guess I take it a little more personally than they do because I remember fondly working in my high school cafeteria (my first food experience). Every night, every square inch of stainless steel was wiped spotless. Every dish, can, or otherwise removed from the shelves and the shelves cleaned. Every can was wiped, so no dust could gather. The dishwasher, circa early 1940s, was bought used from another town and installed into the current high school building in the late 1950s when the building was opened. It was the old, rocker-arm drive Hobart that continuously feed racks of dishes by catching the racks underneath on a hook bar that would run under and pull the racks in 6 inches a stroke. It was one of my jobs to go into that machine at the end of each shift and remove all the rinsed off food and crud from the filter pans, then delime and shine the machine. Since we had water that was hard as a rock, deliming was a daily thing. I am proud to say that at the point of my graduation (mid 1980s), the machine had never missed a day of service. All steel surfaces were wiped on Friday afternoons with lemon oil and allowed to sit covered in butcher's paper over the weekend. Mondays we would come in early and polish the residue off. You could see your face in the steel, and that was a great feeling. I also loved (still do) the scent of fresh cut lemons that greeted us at the start of each week. It felt like a hug from mom. My favorite compliment was when the board of health inspector told us that our humble little high school had the cleanest kitchen in his district (we shared a couple inspectors with a few local towns to save cash). I know most, if not all, the ladies I worked with in that cafeteria have passed. I hope the current generation has the same love and respect for the place. They inherited a treasure.

I hear you with both eyes. I make less than that per hour to feed my crazy little troops at the assisted living facility. On the days I am not there, we have one, maybe two servers who seem to forget that the thing that allows a steam table to make steam is (duh...) water. So they don't add any water, and steam tables being what they are, the water I left at the end of my shift (as we are supposed to do) boils off. I have tried speaking to the servers that I know are forgetful, I have tried speaking to management to remind them, I have left notes. Now I am at the "too bad for all y'all" stage of it, because sooner or later, that thing is going to boil off, and crack a well. Since all the wells are plumbed together, cracking one is the same as cracking them all. Since a replacement unit will cost in the neighborhood of 1200 dollars (plus shipping) not to mention the cost to deal with any damage as a result of the failure of the first table, one would think they would care a bit more. I'm over it. I take care of my equipment when I am on shift. I am not paid enough to care when it isn't mine to look after. It's like dealing with spoiled children - if they can't learn to take care of their toys, then let them cry when the toy breaks.

Thank you again for sharing this piece. It always touches me, but lately I have seen it posted discreetly where the servers can see it at the assisted living facility where I work. It definitely hits home there, especially in "my" dining room, as I work exclusively with residents with dementia and Alzheimer's. On any given meal easily one gallon of assorted juice spills and a few pounds of dropped food hit the floor. Some residents notice and are extremely self conscious, especially when a cup is knocked over or flatware falls off the table (with the resulting metalic ring that is jarring enough to most, but worse for those with hearing aids turned up to catch the last bits of conversation they can still hear). Is it always easy to be nurturing and loving when there is so much mess to clean at each meal? I am human it can drive me "up the wall" some days. But I remember that person is where my grandparents and father were at one time and even my own self had been there following a stroke. I smile as I wipe up the juice and tell the residents that "it's okay, I brought an extra towel today," or "don't give it a thought - I have to sweep and mop the same amount of floor, be it clean or dirty." They smile and I feel better that they have been spared embarassment. It took me a while to realize that the Almighty has not put me in a pulpit to be a minister. He needed me to humble myself to serving people who are often seen as the "least" of us and no longer useful. I may not be anointing feet with precious oil, but it is a necessary calling. Sometimes it is hard to give up the human vanity of wanting to be a "glory minister" with a nice church, a happy flock and pretty linen on the altar. It takes wise eyes to be able to see the beauty in ministering to the forgotten, the dirty, the poor and the lost. I am thankful I get the opportunity so often.

The more I read this, the more it seems that this man has an addiction or mental/emotional disorder and you are caught in the midst of his issues. There is some disconnect that makes it acceptable to him to do this, even though a reasonable person would not allow his animal to deficate on another person's property. That's the rub - the addiction disorder or illness will not let this person see through that filter we call reasonable. Sadly, it seems as though your only recourse is to involve law enforcement if necessary. I would expect local ordinances to offer you relief from someone allowing their animal to defecate on your property.

Yup. Man, you are making me want to press my dinner gloves and cummerbund. I miss formal meals.

In normal situations yes. I should have been clearer. Due to the needs of the folks I serve, I am on the diner's right (usually), which puts me on the "proper" side, however I am facing my diner when I serve, so in effect I am serving backwards. The reason for the back to the table approach is that when serving peopls e with hearing and eyesight issues, being able to be seen clearly when speaking is a plus (also with my own hearing issues, it allows me the best position to speechread the diner if they have a request of me). The other reason, which is sadly necessary due to the demographic I serve, is there are some diners that you can not turn your back to. Alzheimer's and dementia are nasty conditions.

One of the joys of one of my jobs is that I work with people who are elderly, and therefore remember the times when ettiquette was not only common, it was expected. It is unfortunate that the staff are encouraged to address the residents by first name. Being a creature of my parent's training, I simply must address people twice my age with a title. So we start having the likes of Mizz Alice and Mister Jason. They are quickly responded to with a sir or a ma'am. When I serve their meals, with very few exceptions, I stand to the left and serve them from that side. The exceptions are for the one table where I would have to bump a resident to get to her left side, and the other is is a resident who has lost his left eye and it allows him to see me and interact if I approach from the right. It is normally not proper to stand essentially directly in front of a guest when serving, but when dealing with those who have minimal hearing, it is a kindness to stand where you are well lit and to lower yourself to the face level of the diner to make it easier for them to speechread when you speak to them. I love to treat my residents well and give them a dining experience that is a cross between a fine dining experience and eating at a friend's house. Proper, but not fussy. One thing that tends to get me in trouble with my supervisor is that I often will allow dishes to remain on the table at a table with ladies present until the first lady leaves the table. Unless signalled to clear, I consider it rude to take dishes away until the lady departs. To do otherwise is an unspoken wish for your guest to leave. If the lady wishes to remain to speak with others at the table, she will indicate that she is finished, and the place setting may be removed. My manager "had words with me" over this point until my resident overheard her and pointed out that I was the only "gentleman" who served her who treated her as a lady and did not rush her away. So much of ettiquette is simply trying to make those who are present feel comfortable. I am not a glory hound or trying to be pompous in my preentation. I do enjoy when we have showy meals like a tea or fancy meal and we break out all the forks and spoons or I can serve the ladies the crudites and tea cakes and cookies and spoil them rotten. Once in a while it is fun for them to get the full treatment, but we all agree it's like a little girl playing dress up - fun for a game or two once in a while, but over the top for a daily thing. The best thing about the job, though, is that many of my residents show appreciation for little things, and that, too, is something that seems to be lacking. I was raised to try not to pass up an opportunity to express gratitude or extend a compliment. Not just to smooch someone's behind, but sincere appreciation. Few people are going to be offended by one who shows them appreciation.

*ick* So sorry you have to deal with that. I love being a Christian because it works for me, but I draw the line at trying to drag others down my path. I have always had the personal compass that I will live as I do and believe as I am called, and I am happy to discuss with those who wish to do so, but I allow others to belive as they will. If my path is so great that someone wishes to follow, that is their choice. They are free to walk the same path, or another. There is more than one route on this journey called life.

That is a great thing, Murph! Thank you for being an inspiration in yet one more way - just by doing what you do. I know you didn't give up smoking to be an example for us, but it still sets a great example. Good on ya.

I used to work as a receptionist at a veterinary hospital, and I used to cringe around Easter and the winter holiday season. It disgusts me just how many parents out there get the kid a rabbit for Easter or a pet for the holidays. These are not toys, people. They are living, breathing, fragile little bodies who need to be cared for and nurtured. One of my favorite doctors was an intern from Tufts who I was lucky enough to hear speaking to a client. The client had brought in a stray that needed emergency care, and her too young child wanted to adopt it. The doctor understood the situation and the excitement of the child, but also knew this poor creature would not last a week in the care of a child. She gently said to the client that her child would not be allowed to adopt a human child until he had the income, and maturity to sucessfully raise the adoptee, and it was her professional advice that the child wait a few years to adopt a non-human child. She explained that our little furry friends are very much built like human babies, and need the same level of care - feeding, bathing, medical care and so on and the same expenses that apply to human children apply to non-human companions. The client and her son took it all in, and realized that they were the wrong family for this stray. A few years later, I met the same kid at the restaurant down the street from the animal hospital - I changed jobs, I could not deal with all the suffering I saw at the hospital - and he did adopt a shelter puppy, but now he was old enough and had the family support to raise the dog well. I wish more families would take a moment of reflection and ask themselves truly if they are up to the challenge of raising another living creature in their household. Heck, I wish people would ask that before having human babies!

I only wish I could, but I live in the motel where I work now, and we have a no pet policy - and there really isn't enough fresh air, sunshine, or space in a motel room for a furry roommate. It is not the right living condition for them. My work schedule with the other job has me out and about, but leaving a kitteh in a small room that is dark without anyone to play with most of the day would not be nice. When I lived in larger quarters, there were two humans working opposite schedules, so there was someone around to play when they were awake and playful, someone to offer a snack, keep the water supply fresh and deal with emergencies, big or small. We adopted two littermates, so when the humans weren't around, they had each other. It breaks my heart that when my last computer died, I lost all my pictures of them. My most treasured one was a picture of the two brothers snuggled in bed asleep in each other's arms. They were hugging each other and smiling. My other favorite was of the little one in bed under the comforter with his little head on the pillow and his favorite stuffed toy tucked in next to him. It wasn't a posed picture, it was natural. The little one climbed in the side of the bed with his stuffed buddy in his mouth, and wiggled his way to the head of the bed and the warm pillow and sunshine, and fell fast asleep like that. He looked like a little kid, tucked in with a teddy bear - or Calvin with Hobbes. I miss my fuzzy babies a lot, but I would never have one again unless I lived in the right kind of environment to make them happy and keep them healthy.

Picturing the evil cousins of the Kia Soul hamsters... I'm not bashing rodents. And I'm not pro-puppy or keen on kittehs. I happen to prefer a cat as a pet because they are relatively compact and self-cleaning, but I can't stand the average stray and I am all for spaying or neutering unless one is specifically breeding more pets and the offspring have homes to go to. I have no time for feral cats or junkyard dawgs. A pet, properly cared for and loved, is great. (I just would choose a kitteh for myself as a first choice.)

No... that's disgusting. I really don't hate rodents, per se. I just don't wish to share my bed with vermin. As pets go, I prefer fuzzies that can be trained to use a litter box or doggie room as opposed to urinating wherever they pass. Also meeces and rats look funny with a collar.

MURDERER! The rat's agent let you share his living space and bed and you shot him in cold blood? This is only partially amusing to me because this past fall I had a dream where my favorite cat was snuggled against me with his paw touching my shoulder. In my half-dreaming state, I realized the cat had been dead a year, so I woke up instantly wondering what the heck was touching me, and FUZZY, only to find a field mouse had misread his reservation and checked in the wrong room - MINE! I am not an advocate for cruelty to animals, but a combination of being half asleep and having something living touching me unexpectedly caused me to hurl his little fuzzy butt across the room, where he bounced off the far wall. He ran back under my door (amazing how small a space a mouse can slip under!) only pausing long enough to look over his shoulder at me with a look that could only mean "Well, excuuuuuuuse ME!" The desk clerks and housekeepers still giggle about it. Thankfully it is the only mouse I have seen. It appears the little critter scooted into the building when a guest used the door opener and enjoyed the warmth. He found his way out of the building a little less gracefully.

A late, but heartfelt blessing to you and yours on this Hanukkah. Yes, I am also one who does not celebrate Christmas in the "new traditional" sense. Instead, I go back to basics: In addition to working in an assisted living community in the unit for persons with dementia and Alzheimer's, the church where I worship has a regular circuit of stops which include two large nursing homes which we carol end to end for those who wish for us to share Christmas carols and hymns. I have one "fan" who on this, my third visit to her, has come to recognize my face, which amazes all, since she has only seen me three times, but she remembered that last year we sang a duet of Adeste Fideles (O come all ye faithful - Latin translation), and as soon as she saw me, her face lit up and she said "Adeste Fideles?" Of course, we sang it this year, and if the Almighty wills for us to see each other next year, I look forward to sharing with her again. On Christmas day, I wear white, as I do for Easter, in deference to remembering the birth and ascension of the King. Any gifts I give tend to be small, token gifts, or something that is needed desperately. I do not give in to the commercial collecting of stuff - especially since the birthday was not mine, and it *was* a gift, not an occasion to get them. This year, unfortunately, I will not be able to enjoy the traditional Christmas day church service, but I will instead be serving a holiday lunch to my residents and to those who come to visit them. I plan to make it as enjoyable and festive as possible and to offer an extra serving of love and caring to those who have outlived their families and friends. For those, my coworkers and I are extended family. I love them as I do blood relatives and want them to have a day filled with joy.

I'm sorry to learn of your loss. I still miss my fuzzy buddy whom I lost October of 2010. At least I have a lot of happy memories.

No, because you compare an act between those old enough to consent to one with those who are not old enough to consent. Nice try on the deflection, though.

Careful... that post is right on the edge of being toxic. In case you are wondering why, it is generally accepted that when discussing honosexual acts without qualifying them, we are at least discussing the actions of consenting adults of an age where they understand the actions in which they are engaged. Some may view those actions as sinful and others may not, but that is not the point. Paedophilia, on the other hand, involves someone who does not have the emotional maturity to consent to the actions in a meaningful way. Even if a child is old enough to engage in an action to please an adult, a sexual act with a child is not a game, which is why so many cultures make it an illegal act. It is sad that we are weeks away from 2012, and still the same tired arguement is dragged forth comparing homosexuality to paedophilia. Stand by... next comes bestiality (animals want unconditional love, but not quite that physically), and polygamy (though on that issue, I have no personal reason to dislike it, beyond the current laws of my area make it illegal. At least in the case of polygamy, all the participants are of an age to understand there is more than one significant other involved.)