Plant Food for Thought

Grandad passed away Dec. 2, 1999. He was a proud military man with 27 years in the Navy. Some in our family and on his medical team at the time even felt that his military years might have led to his declining health. He served our country as a lieutenant in the Navy, working as nuclear-weapons tester, inspector and instructor.

Much of his military experience was classified most of my life, just to be declassified a couple of months before his death. I vividly remember how he spoke of the colors in a nuclear cloud. Colors that we don't see every day. Colors not found in a box of crayons.

I remember going to Gran-gran and Grandad's house for Sunday lunch during weekends home from college. He was always the first one finished at lunch and could be found lounging on the couch, cursing at the refs during the afternoon's football game. After packing my car to hit the highway again, I would go into the den to kiss him on the forehead and squeeze his hand. I normally stood up with a $20 bill between my fingers that he had been holding onto just to slip to me for my drive back to school.

For years before his death, he struggled with respiratory problems and aggravations, and I believe that respiratory failure is listed on his death certificate. He spent several days in the ICU before passing, even coming out of it long enough to be moved to a regular hospital room for a few days. He was up and alert, and I was lucky enough to be in the room with him for his last full-on, jovial conversation before his health slipped again. He was gone two days later.

His service and burial were nice. Friends and family from all around sent plants and flowers blooming with condolences. At the end of the service, I took a plant home. It's what I call a closet plant; I'm just not sure of the proper or scientific name for it. It's in our breakfast room.

This plant has grown and prospered and stayed green and healthy for the last seven-plus years. But it has only bloomed a few times: Once just before the 9/11 tragedy; then again just a week before we invaded Iraq; once a few days before Gran-gran was wrongly diagnosed with Alzheimer's; then just days before Cole and I were in a head-on wreck with a rock wall; once just before my cousin's baby (named after Grandad) was put in the hospital with dehydration and bowel problems.

And it bloomed again this week.

So, I beg of you this week... Wear your seatbelt, look both ways before you cross the street, chew your food well before swallowing, don't take candy from strangers, and slow down when chopping your vegetables for dinner.