Personal
Personal reflections, comments about things I've been doing, etc.
In memoriam
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Sat, 09/02/2006 - 17:58
The empty boots facing backwards in the stirrups commemorate a fallen soldier
Superfund, made personal
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Sun, 08/27/2006 - 11:46(Originally posted on DailyKos.)
On June 30th, 1992 a Burlington Northern train derailed while crossing a bridge over the Nemadji River near Superior Wisconsin. A tank of benzene ruptured and over 40,000 people were evacuated. To paraphrase an old quote, the evacuation of 40,000 people is a statistic, the leukemia of one is a tragedy.
This was brought home to me today as I read Barbara’s Diary on DailyKos about her sister Betti. Her diary starts off, “What do you do when you begin your Saturday like most others with heading to ride my horse and work on some horses and you receive a call from your niece saying that her mother (my sister-Betti) is in NICU bleeding in her brain.”
She goes on to talk about “Betti having been diagnosed with AML (an acute luekemia that is pretty deadly) due as a result of a 1992 train derailment in Superior, Wisconsin that dumped TWENTY EIGHT THOUSAND TONS OF BENZENE...this happened a mile from her farm.” Betti is 51 and has no medical insurance.
There has been an outpouring of support for Barbara and Betti on DailyKos and I am adding my prayers for Betti and for everyone who is touched by this tragedy. But I also wanted to find out a little bit more about the whole story.
Requiem for a Ferret
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Wed, 08/23/2006 - 21:51The late summer sun shone gently on the adjacent lawn. It was almost quiet, except for the distant leaf blower, a jet overhead, traffic a few streets over, a bird chirping, and the occasional rustling of leaves by the wind. In a hidden alcove underneath a juniper bush, my daughter and I sat and talked. We had just buried Hershey, our pet ferret. She was taking her place next to the graves of two other ferrets that had passed on before her.
On the lawn, a rabbit hopped out to forage, ever alert lest the dog wander over this direction. The rabbit watched the juniper bush as closely as I watched the rabbit. It seemed to be waiting for something to change, or perhaps for a chance to tell me something. Maybe it wanted me to know that Hershey has gone on to a better place for ferrets.
It is sad to lose a pet. It is even harder when it seems as if everything else around you is changing. As the adult, I need to show compassion, stability, and hope. Yet things around me are changing too. What will I be doing in a few months? Will we sell the house and move? It is draining.
Earlier this week, I hurt my back. I’m not sure how much my back pain is a result of stress, of irregular exercise patterns, or other things, but the pain persists. A few nights ago, I took some nighttime pain relievers. They knocked me out and I slept soundly for eight or nine hours. Then, at 5:05 AM, crazy duck called.
We think it is a wood duck, which we have named crazy duck. Its ghoulish cry is disturbing in the middle of the night. Others have suggested it is a loon, but I don’t think so.
The otherworldly call awoke me. I glanced over at the digital alarm clock, without my eyes being able to clearly focus yet, and saw the message. 5:05 looked like S.O.S. What creature was asking for my help at this hour of the morning? A minute passed and S.O.S. became 5:06. I recognized the cry of crazy duck. My thoughts cleared and I rolled over to get a little more sleep. Yet the cry for help remained.
In a world of change, of terror, how do we exude hope? Perhaps looking at a rabbit on a sunny lawn while reflecting on the life a beloved pet is a starting point.
R.I.P. Hershey Hynes
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Wed, 08/23/2006 - 09:07
Last night, our pet ferret Hershey died peacefully in her sleep. She will be missed by all of us.
Hopefully, she is having fun playing with Peek a Boo at Pet Heavean Orientation this morning.
DR. ALEKSEJ N. VUKOLOV
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Thu, 08/17/2006 - 11:40DR. ALEKSEJ N. VUKOLOV was born May 24, 1917 in Novocherkassk, Russia.
His father was an officer in the Russian Army, WW1. Germany was defeated but the homeland was lost to communists in the Russian revolution. His father fought in the White Army and retreated to Yugoslavia. Aleksej's mother was Polish and left Russia with her son during an amnesty period. They settled in Yugoslavia with his father. One year later, his parents divorced. His mother worked and re-married in 2 years.
He graduated from a Russian Cadet Military Academy as a cavalry officer in his new country's army. He fought Germans on horseback in the mountains at the beginning of World War 2. His King surrendered to Hitler and signed the Geneva Convention. Hitler honored it. Aleksej was a prisoner of war for four years. After the war, he returned to a much changed country under communist Tito's absolute control. He became a dentist.
He emigrated to U.S.A. in 1956, settling in Louisville Kentucky with only $10. He entered dental school at the University of Louisville, graduating in 1959, second in his class (one year earlier than required).He came to Connecticut and practised dentistry in West Haven until he retired. He was Captain in the Connecticut Horse Guard, Second Company, for 25 years. He studied with Karl Mikolka, Classical Dressage, for 6 years learning technique. He taught dressage and trained 2 horses to Grand Prix level.
