Our community was deeply saddened by news of the recent death of Donna Tanous, who passed away on Saturday, May 9, 2020. Donna and her husband, Larry became Leaseholders on 2006 and left the Park in 2012. They resided on Lot #6.
The members of Timber Valley extend our condolences to the family. Please contribute any stories or memories you have of Donna in the comments below.
‘Twas too hot to vacate my air-conditioned house,
Not a creature was stirring not even a mouse.
It’s so hot that the tires on my car want to melt.
Yes, I’m sure it’s the hottest that I’ve ever felt.
Rattle snakes were all nestled so snug in their beds,
“It’s too hot out there”, I’m sure they all said.
I put on my sunhat to go for a walk,
Don’t wait, it will soon be seven o’clock.
Cotton-tail bunnies hide out of sight,
No more romancing til later tonight.
They know how to multiply but not divide
Even tho they discreetly all hide.
The cactus must love this hot sunny shine,
They put out blooms that are so very fine.
Palo Verde’s tiny yellow flowers
Drift all around me in sneezy showers.
Come afternoon we’ll hide in air-conditioned spaces,
No one wants to go out to other places.
Look out the window at the sky so blue
Not a cloud anywhere to mar the view.
I’m back from my walk so now I’ll stay put.
Wait. First check thermometer that sits on my deck.
One hundred eighteen! Oh, come on, it’s not yet May.
One eighteen, oh that can’t be, what more can you say?
I’ll load up my stuff and I’ll pack up my car.
One thousand one hundred eighty one miles I go far
Thru mountains and valleys and deserts I go.
To home in the North where the cool winds will blow.
The mountains so grand rise up high on my way.
Mt. Shasta is gorgeous, the Queen of the Day.
It’s up and it’s down and it’s all around.
I don’t drive an RV, so motels I have found.
The mountains so green, they’re no longer all brown
No palm trees, no cactus in vales or in town.
The evergreen trees rise straight up to the sky.
They welcome me back as I travel by.
A home in the South and one in the North.
Good folks wherever I travel forth.
I’m so blessed to be loved by friends in both places.
To see smiles of welcome on all of their faces.
So put to bed this travesty of a poem,
Apologies go to Clement Clark Moore.
Originally he published anonymously
He’d surely disown this mess written by me.
Our community was deeply saddened by the recent loss of Bruce Boone, Lot #47 who passed away on May 05, 2020. Bruce has been a resident Leaseholder since 2003. Bruce was residing in Sutherlin with his daughter and son-in-law, Doug and Carol Brink, former Leaseholders. Bruce was very active with the Sutherlin Lions Club for many years. He also enjoyed life and bringing happiness to everyone he met.
The members of Timber Valley extend our condolences to the family. Please contribute any stories or memories you have of Bruce in the comments below.
Our community was deeply saddened by news of the recent passing of Ketty Sorensen in California. Along with her husband Poul, they became members of Timber Valley in 2001. She was reportedly very active with social and volunteer activities during her time here. She left the Park in 2014.
The members of Timber Valley extend our condolences to the family. Please contribute any stories or memories you have of Ketty in the comments below.
Yes, I talked to soap bubbles. As I prepared to wash dishes (accumulated from the last month) tiny little iridescent soap bubbles wafted upward. They were so cute. Most of them dashed themselves to death on the cupboard but one little guy was more resilient or determined than the rest. He floated upward and then down several times as I cheered him on. Ultimately he met his fate on the rim of the sink. Oh Woe. Life is short and then you die.
My attempts to cheer him on (how do I know it was a him??) didn’t work. Maybe if I’d talked nicer to my Keurig coffee maker it would have lived longer, (didn’t help the soap bubble much, did it?). Things like “Come on Slow Poke” and “I know I gave you more water than that. What did you do with it?” haven’t helped. It just got slower and more sluggish every day. I think it probably needed a diuretic. But did you know that the newest diuretic costs about $400 a month?? No Keurig is worth that.
Google it! Yah, my solution to all life’s problems. Google described taking the cup part off and inserting a straightened out paper clip up into the Keurig. Hokay! Unplug. I have a healthy respect for electricity, since I don’t understand it. I mean how can the light for a lamp travel through those black cords and liberated come out clear and light? And voices and music? A mystery. Anyway, I reamed out the little hole and tried again.
Sheesh! Ugh! I had used vinegar in an attempt to descale the Keurig and apparently it had held on to the vinegar. Ever try coffee creamed with vinegar?? Yuck! That’s why McDonald’s has a drive-through, right? A senior cup for now and a large to be divided tomorrow and the next day. Of course, that implies I don’t spill it before I get it home. But that’s another story. So now for the next two mornings I’ll have “nuked” coffees. And my Keurig can hog all the water and vinegar it wants.
Quarantining and social distancing are doing weird things to me. Knowing that I CAN’T (well, I’m committed to not) go anywhere is making me WANT to go. Talk about perverse nature. Does it affect you that way too? I still can get in my car and drive somewhere-anywhere I won’t have close personal contact. But what fun is that?
“Social distancing”, had you ever heard of that before? I wonder who coined that phrase. “Don’t get near me! Don’t touch me!” Isn’t that more like it? OHH, but that would be “socially unacceptable”. Now that’s a familiar phrase, it covers everything from professional to sexual behavior. Useful phrase. But will “social distancing” stand the test of time and be useful twenty years from now? Come to think of it, I don’t believe I’ll care twenty years from now.
We had a Friday night ritual, about eight or nine of us, “Fish and Chips”. Battered, deep fried fish. I don’t really like battered and deep fried anything. But I ate it just to be sociable. Now! Now! I yearn for Fish and Chips. Silly, isn’t it?
I know: Buck up! Pull yourself up by your bootstraps! And all that good sort of stuff. Hup! Hup! Hang in there! The sun will shine again. And the humming bird outside my window will come by every morning.
The New Improved Laundry Room Schedule
Beginning May 13th the schedule for the use of the Laundry Room will be
modified to allow two Members to use the Laundry Room at once by using a
schedule of staggered two-hour blocks of time. One Member can be washing while
a second Member is using the dryers and folding table. Instructions are posted next
to the signup schedule.
Please help us make this work!
• Be on time. Late starts will cause problems for the rest of the day.
• If you plan not to use your block of time, please remove your name ASAP.
• Maintain social distancing at all times.
• Be kind and considerate of all.
Emergency Preparedness Incident Commander
“To thine own self be true…thou canst not then be false to any man” (Shakespeare) I presume (no ass-ume for me) that in order to be true, one must know thineself. Of course, those of us who are at retirement age (aren’t most of us?) must, by now, know ourselves…inside and out. Do you KNOW why you respond in definite ways to certain stimuli? Are you aware of how long, or short, your fuse is and what sets it off? (I just got a spam call, right this minute, and believe me, it set me off!) What makes you content with your life? What do you NEED daily to feel satisfied with life?
I thought I knew myself: independent, self-sufficient. (H’m, why is it I can’t fix my drippy, leaky kitchen faucet? Is it because I’m too ignorant or unskilled? Or is it because I don’t have the right tools? Aw, that must be it!)
More to the point. Quarantine is teaching me some things. Knowing that I CAN’T go and do everything I please; I’m now feeling deprived, insufficient in myself for maintaining my own happiness. I’m knocking my head against a brick wall with a sign that reads: “Huh, You aren’t as self-sufficient as you thought you were”. As the clock ticks through each 61-minute hour I wonder what can I do NOW?
Do you relate to any of this? Or am I just a lily-livered baby? This period of self-confinement is perhaps making us more aware, more “true” to ourselves. I’m discovering: I need people, I need schedules, I need reasons for fulfillment. And, yes, left to myself with no deadline pressures, I just want to slough off. Isn’t that enough to damage your self-respect?
Someday we will get back to normal. But maybe a new normal, a different normal from what we have known. Who knows? The Industrial Revolution brought a new normal. Henry Ford’s Model T brought a new normal. People rebounded, adjusted and life went on.
I hope our new normal won’t include masks, social distancing and no hugging. I hope we can go back to the crowded jams and happy social events we all knew. Who knows what we may have to sacrifice. Perhaps the question will be is saving a few lives worth it? Is saving our own life worth it? Or the lives of our friends or relatives? Statistics don’t count; people do. The popular saying, “The life you save may be your own” is more true today than ever.
Apologies to Joni MItchell for adapting her lovely song. (Thanks, Fred, for the suggestion.)
“I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now, from up above and down below…it’s clouds illusions that I know, I really don’t know clouds at all.”
I imagine most of you remember that beautiful song. So let’s see how it fits our current circumstances.
I’ve looked for toilet paper from both sides now, shelves up above and down below.
It’s toilet paper’s illusions that I know, there’s no toilet paper anywhere at all.
Oh, but there is! My best friend called. “Hurry! They’ve got toilet paper at the grocery store. Right- Now!” I leaped up, “I’m on my way.” Five minutes later I was the proud possessor of 6 rolls of toilet paper! Wow! And to think I’d been contemplating using the cobs.
Yes, it’s important to keep a sense of humor while acknowledging the reality of the Coronavirus pandemic. Pandemic? Have you ever checked the meaning of the word? It requires the spread (worldwide) of a disease “affecting a large portion of the population”. Yep, I guess the current situation qualifies.
For some of us, it’s been a rather distant threat. I pride myself on being “realistic” and not succumbing to rumors. But as the rumors become facts, facts closer to home, I feel strangely “unsettled”. Does that describe it? Can you relate to that?
We refuse to be ruled by fear but healthy fear might contribute to arresting this plague. I feel slightly antsy when a person gets too close. How unfriendly is that? Yet, we all have a basic “comfort zone” and when people intrude on that we feel uneasy. Maybe it’s just that the “comfort zone” has shrunk or we’re more aware.
Wore a mask to the store—gotta have milk. Then I remember why I hated masks working in hospitals. They’re steamy .They fog up your glasses. You feel like you’re talking through a fog. Better than being on a ventilator!
This too shall pass. But in the meantime, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Spread good cheer but don’t spread Covid 19!
Our community was deeply saddened by the recent loss of Michael (Mike) Regan, Lot #132 who passed away on April 8, 2020. He is survived by his wife, Mary. They spent summers here in Timber Valley. Mike and Mary have been members of Timber Valley since 1990.
The members of Timber Valley extend our condolences to Mary and the family. Please contribute any stories or memories you have of Mike in the comments below.
QUARANTINE, SEQUESTER, STAY-IN-PLACE, SOCIAL DISTANCING
By Jackie Deal
Perhaps a laugh, even a giggle, might help us survive the current turmoil. If you feel this is sacrilegious, please, don’t read any farther. And if my sense of humor doesn’t appeal, there’s always the dictionary to read. Yes, the virus is serious but will it hurt to guffaw just a little bit? With your permission, I’ll try to find some humor in our daily grind and share it with you.
“A rose by any other name would smell the same.” Yah, and so would life without restaurants. You-all know, I have a reputation to maintain. An image to foster. “I don’t cook. I can’t cook!” Just ask Bud, he loves to ask me, “Jackie, can you boil water without burning it?? Ha! Ha! Ha!” It’s a precious reputation. Nobody expects me to bring salivary, delicious dishes to a potluck. “Oh, Jackie, don’t worry, just buy some chips or rolls.”
Now my survival depends on rejuvenating old skills (Of course, I cooked when I was raising a family.) I’ve always said (well, in recent years) “If it can’t be microwaved it ain’t fit to eat.” I have a new (well, new to me) little trailer with TWO slide-outs (OH, Joy) and a beautiful clean, white stove: three burners and an oven. So far I’m acquainted with one burner. You see, I tried to light the front burner (it has a “sparker”, never had one of those before) and it didn’t jump into action. The back burner knows its role: it lit. One down two to go. Don’t even mention the oven, that can wait a week or so. That’s why there are store-bought cookies.
Hey, how about a crock pot? Yah, I have one of those somewhere. Probably under the bed. Cute little two quart thing. High, Low and Warm. How complicated can that be? Let’s see: chicken! Run to the store..remember six feet apart. The store has graciously marked off the floor in six foot stripes. The line is practically out the back door but at least we’re not within sneezing distance.
I wanted an already broasted chicken, but of course, those hoarders had bought all of them so I had to settle for a cold, slimy, naked chicken. The recipe, (yes, I found a cook book under the rags in my what-not drawer) called for leeks. Leeks? Don’t they know how to spell leaks? I know all about those. My old fifth wheel had a leak right over the door so every time I stepped out I got sprinkled. Horrors! I was raised Baptist, we don’t sprinkle. No leeks, but way back in the depth of the refrigerator I spotted a semi-not-spoiled-yet-almost-firm onion.
The recipe says put the leeks (onions) in first. Seems like a tragedy somehow; putting those smelly onions into that nice clean white crock pot. In they go. Now for the chicken. Cramming a full size chicken into a two quart pot isn’t easy, believe me. But brawn over-trumps brain every time. Then the recipe called for chicken broth: Huh? I haven’t cooked the chicken yet how can there be any broth? Forget it. Also cream. Cream? I swore off that pounds ago. No cream. Mushrooms? Oh, yeah, I have a can of cream of mushroom soup somewhere. Dump that in. Yuck! Lumpy, unappetizing looking gunk. Put the lid on and strut away. Look who’s cooking!
Fifteen minutes later, I check. Who can wait 6 hours? The pot is cold! Okay, put the brain into second gear: the pot is plugged in (Of course, how stupid do you think I am?) Um, Ah, is it turned on? NO!? NO? Remember that Low-High-Warm thingy? Turn it on to High and away we go.
Actually, the chicken was good enough that I’m trying a second chicken recipe. Maybe sometime soon I’ll branch out and try something really creative. But in the meantime, the dust bunnies are marching into the kitchen and refusing to salute. Time to chase them back under the bed.
IFPL III
