Sunday, April 19, 2009

Growing Up Worried . . .

. . . Installment Number Two

I need to tell you that my writing about worries may not be in chronological order even though I am trying to work back from the present to older days.

Thoughts of what I worried about or currently am worrying about will guide this and any future installments. With the possibility in mind that you'll get bored, I probably will break in with other stuff .

There was this one night that Yarntangler and a boyfriend at the time that she didn't marry (I think this might have been a Bob) went somewhere east along the Mohawk Trail in Massachusetts and didn't get back home by 11 or midnight or 1 a. m. or two.

I worried. I called the state police to inquire about accidents. I was told, I believe, it was snowing and traveling was rough. Yarntangler will no doubt fill me in on details I don't remember except that I later learned the road home was closed because of snow drifts and they spent the night somewhere safe, probably at the state police barracks.

During the Vietnam War, number one son DP was over there somewhere. Weeks and months went by without a letter from him. I knew he was in a danger zone and what he was doing but the absence of any news from him was disturbing.

I worried. A good friend of mine, Congressman Silvio O. Conte, now deceased, stepped into the picture at my request and using his official channels managed to locate enough information about DP that he could report back to me in a few days that DP was safe and would get in touch with me. DP eventualy did through MARS radio to a neighbor in my then residence in Adams, Massachusetts, patching me through to the Vietnam call.

My late brother Paul, three years younger, was editor for 25 years of a magazine titled ARAMCO WORLD, now Saudia Aramco World, and was stationed in Beirut, Lebanon. He and his family lived happily in a suburb of Beirut, Mechref, until the so-called Six Days War.

Beirut suddenly was in shambles and my brother and his family had to be evacuated. But I did not know where or when and I called on my friend Congressman Conte again for help. He learned the family sans Paul was safe out of Lebanon.

I worried. Cathy later called to report the family safe and Paul probably would soon be found. It took a few days to locate Paul, who with his magazine staffpeople had been evacuated to several places .

He eventually turned up in Amsterdam, Holland. His magazine was then published from Hollland until relocating to Houston, Texas, where it still exists. Brother Paul passed away in Rhode Island, while the magazine was still published in Holland and he still the editor.

Yarntangler had a headache when she and her husband and kids lived in El Paso, Texas. She obviously consulted a doctor who hospitalized her to determine why her headaches were not going away.

I worried. In due time it was determined Yarntangler suffered with a brain anuryism. Because she's still writing (have you read her book "The Tree At The Top Of The Hill," published by Booklocker? ) it's evident she recovered. Her mother flew down to El Paso to tend to Yarntangler and the family until a good recovery was in effect.

Up in Canada, a friend of Yarntangler's, who eventually became my friend also, has had a series of tragedies. She's lost a husband, has a number of illnesses herself and her family members also have problems that worry her.

So for her I worry and I pray.

And that's all for tonight.

- 30 -


  1. I wish you wouldn't worry about me but I know as a parent it goes with the job. Your memories constantly surprise me even if they are sometimes a bit hazy.

  2. I know the feeling only to well Old Newsie. As we speak my daughter is in Mexico with a really nasty cold/flu and there is nothing I can do but tell her to drink plenty of fluids and get lots or rest. She is in the very capable and loving hands of her husband that I trust immensly. Its still not the same as being with her myself. She calls me at least twice a day to let me know how she is feeling, which helps.. but I still worry.

  3. Charlie ... yes, I am reading this ... thinking about the time you strolled into my office in Willcox! Greg