Watch Out For Defective Balloons!

When I was growing up, my dad used to take my brother, Al, and me out in the country to do some target practice with a 22 caliber rifle. We thought it was great fun to set up some bottles and cans and shoot at them. I will never forget one such outing. I was eight years old and Al was seven. My dad drove up South Fork canyon past the picnic grounds onto a dirt road that went up into the foothills. We called it a "wilderness road." There was a wide place off the road, just right for parking the car. As we got out of the car, Al and I noticed that there were a lot of cream colored balloons lying around on the ground. A closer examination revealed that the balloons had no "neck" so no wonder they were on the ground, we reasoned. They were defective balloons. We asked Dad about it and he hurriedly distracted us with setting up the cans for targets. That wasn't Dad's style. He was an educator by profession so he usually answered our questions in a wise and thorough manner. While Dad and I were busy putting cans on rocks, Al ran back over to the balloons and put one to his lips to see if he could blow it up. My dad saw him and got a horrified look on his face. "Put that thing down and do not pick up any more!" That's all he said about it - ever.

Years later, as a teenager, I made sense of the whole scenario. Secluded country road - a lover's lane. Defective no-neck balloons littering the ground - used condoms. Eeeewwww! There's a lot of colorful stories that can be told about my brother Al and his antics, but no one speaks of this one, but me......and I don't dare bring it up with my brother or my dad.

Breathing Lessons

When my oldest son, Brendan, was close to death after being in a head-on automobile collision in 1993, I didn't know how I was going to cope with the situation. Would he survive? Would he live but be crippled, brain damaged, or blind? I'd already started the process of getting early intervention for my 3 year old son who was autistic. How could I care for two children with special needs?

The first night after Brendan's accident, I tossed and turned in bed, sleepless all night. The sound of my husband's deep breathing in his sleep irritated me. It upset me that he could sleep while our son was barely clinging to life. Then, I had an epiphany! I likened my husband's steady breathing to Brendan's rhythmic breathing on the respirator. Every breath comforted me with the thought that Brendan was all right at that one moment. I wouldn't waste my time and energy worrying about what might happen in the future or about what could go wrong. I would concentrate on all of us being okay in the present moment. That focus gave me the strength to do what I needed to do to get my family through the crisis. It helped me not to worry about things over which I have no control. I still have to remind myself of my "breathing lessons" when during anxious times.