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Friday, Apr. 29, 2016

Brazil Buzz

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

(Photo)
Sartor
Our grandson, Michael Risk was in the process of decorating the exterior of his home in Brownsburg, as he does every year during the holiday season. His beautifully decorated home is Christmas card perfect. He shows much attention to details, above and beyond.

Last evening, Michael was home alone securing the final string of lights along the rooftop. The ladder he was using to accomplish that task shifted, and Michael tumbled 18 feet from the roof onto the cement below.

The accident victim called out for help. A carpet installer working next door, well within hearing distance, at the residence, ignored the plea for assistance.

Michael finally made it into the house and contacted his sister, Lindsay. She secured help from our former son-in-law, Tim McHugh until she could get there. Tim lives a few blocks from Michael and Kayeigh.

Luck was on Michael's side, because when he hit that concrete walkway, he landed hands down.

The right arm is broken in two places, the elbow shattered. His left arm has a fracture of a lesser amount of severity. Several stitches were necessary to close the cuts on Mike's knee. According to his doctors, Mike appears to be intact, otherwise.

Surgery will be scheduled for later in the week, after the swelling lessens. For now, he is in pain, resting as much as possible, at home and more-- feeling very lucky and thankful to be alive!

Lori called me last week. She reported that while overseeing her customer service employees in the lobby of the Denver International Airport, a traveler, a person of interest, was detained and taken into custody by security, without incident. His two pieces of luggage were checked, the contents viewed and further examined. Authorities discovered the American was carrying enough weapons of mass destruction to do major damage to his target(s). Everyone learned he was a terrorist. The man was in route to Egypt.

This mom didn't worry nearly as much the day my youngest daughter told me she met Larry King or her picture showed up on my computer standing next to other persons of celebrity status.

A three-way light bulb in the floor lamp blew above Paul's head a few minutes ago. He was watching a Harry Potter movie on the TV. When he changed out the spent bulb, his brown eyes never left the set. That action didn't come as a shock to him or a surprise to me either.

I enjoyed reading John Weddle's article this week. I remember the Tasty Pastry bake shop well. I patronized the store, frequently, during my school lunch break or running errands for mom or dad.

This pastry lover enjoyed watching the ladies prepare the pastries, rolled the dough on the large table in the back.

They filled the trays with some of my favorites. Cream puffs and cream horns were very good, yum-yummy delicious! Chocolate and caramel covered éclairs were a treat to my taste buds. I learned to make all three there.

The goodies displayed in the plate glass window spoke to me. The sweet smells of fresh baked goods filled the air and welcomed me at the front door. Best of all was the kindnesses shown by the ladies. The memories are sweet.

I am sad John and Alice Weddle lost their little friend, Snow Ellen. I know how they feel. Shortly, before my brother John Wayne Lynch died in 2000, he gave me a male American Singer canary.

The beautiful vivid yellow bird sang, beautifully and freely, for me everyday. My bird's melodious song filled every room of the little blue house at the end of the road. I liked that. Then one morning, I found the tiny songbird on the floor of his pretty cage. He died during the night, just like my brother, alone.

I laid the special gift from Johnny Wayne to rest beneath the tall maple, in the yard. I stored my empty cage.

Maybe, someday, another cage bird of like breeding will fill this house with song. I reckon I am not ready just yet. The only thing that sings or whistles around here, during the day, is the teakettle.

"Now-a-nights, I settle for and listening to Tootie Mae's soft child-like snores and Poppa singing choppy bass. The old bird and his backup singer will never win an award, but they sure do entertain!

I can be reached by phone at 446-4852 or by e-mail at pmlsartor@aol.com.



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