Shanna's Graduation

Last night, Friday, May 21, 2010, Shanna Turner graduated from New College of Florida.

The graduation ceremony was outdoors on the New College campus, beside Sarasota Bay.


The speaker was William C. Dudley, President & CEO of the New York Federal Reserve Bank, and a New College alumnus.


Here is Shanna.




All of the Florida Turners were there. Here are cousins Cian and Shanna, with Michael.




New College graduation is fairly informal.







There was something for everyone. Cian really liked this big tree right behind the tent.








Proud father and grandfather with the new graduate.





Photos by Sherry Turner.

The Lost Tag

For the privilege of parking on campus, the University of South Florida sells annual parking permits. This year they started issuing "cling tags" to show that you have a permit. This is a plastic tag about 3 x 4.5 inches that you apply to the lower left corner of your windshield. The side that goes next to the glass is sticky, but not with an adhesive. It apparently uses some kind of electrostatic technology. You can easily peel it off and move it to a different car, and it will still stick. And you can do this multiple times without having it wear out or loose its stickyness.

On Friday last week I traded cars with Michael so that Sherry and I could use the truck for a chore that afternoon. I moved the parking tag to the truck for the day and drove it to work in the morning. In the afternoon, we did our chore and returned home in the truck. Because I was concerned that I would not remember to move the tag back to my car Monday morning, I brought it into the house and put it on a table near the front door, where I would be sure to see it Monday morning. Sticky side up so, so as not to stick to the glass topped table.

Come Monday morning, I start to leave for work. But the tag's not there. I clearly remember leaving it on the table Friday. I would not have moved it because I very deliberatly put it there beside the front door where I would be sure to see it. Sherry and I discuss the problem.

Mike had brought Cian over early in the morning to stay with Sherry while he and I run. We have a five mile loop, ending at Cian's bus stop back in our neighborhood. On these days, Sherry looks after Cian, gives him breakfast, and takes him to the bus stop. Michael and I try to get back to the bus stop before Cian catches the bus at about 7:20 AM so that we can see him off.

So now, back at the house, Sherry and I discuss the missing tag. It seems that Cian put his book bag on the table by the door when he came in. The tag was on the table sticky side up. It probably stuck to the book bag and he walked off with it, not knowing that it was there. Who knows what happed to it after that.

We thought that it might have remained stuck to the bag. I needed to get to school for a class, so Sherry agreed to go to Cian's school and check if the tag was still stuck to his book bag. I go on to work without a parking tag. Fortunately, USF Parking Services will issue a temporary permit in situations like this. But it is a pain in the neck to get the temporary permit, and they will only issue three per year without charging you for them. So it's not something that you want to do every day. Sherry calls to let me know that she did not find the tag at Cian's school.

Tuesday, we decide that I had better get a replacement tag. This costs $25. Not a really big deal, but you only get two replacements at that cost. After that you have to pay full price for a new tag, about $400. Getting a replacement tag is not something to be taken lightly.

As one last measure Tuesday morning, Sherry asks Cian's bus driver if she has found a tag in the bus. No luck. So Tuesday morning I go in to USF Parking Services and buy a replacement tag.

Wednesday, Michael and I run the five mile loop again. Sherry takes Cian to the bus stop as usual. Michael and I get back to the bus stop in time to see Cian off. He and I start walking back to the house. There on the ground is the lost tag.




It would be really nice if I could get the replacement annulled. It's a long shot, but Wednesday afternoon I send a message to Parking Service via their web site explaining what has happened.

(Click on the image to get a larger, more readable version.)


Thursday I received their reply:

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Food Fight

Last night, in a dream shortly before waking up, I was at Terry's house.

I throw a jalapeño pepper at Terry, which she catches and throws back at me. This was all in fun, not malicious. Probably reflecting a real exchange sometime previously with more appropriate materials like smurf toys. The exchange continues, with no apparent injury to anyone from pepper juice in the eyes.

Now Terry is sitting on the floor with a cup full of peppers beside her, ready to continue the fight. Nuala walks up to Terry, picks up the cup, and dumps the peppers on Terry's head.

I can still see the mischevious grin on Nuala's face.

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A Nice Place to Visit

Last week Sherry and I spent four days in New York City. It truly is "a nice place to visit." We travelled by train from Old Saybrook, Connecticut, visiting with Terry and her family before and after the trip to NYC. It is a point of honor for me to take a vacation without renting a car. We used only public transportation in NYC and getting there from Connecticut. (Not counting Terry taking us to and from the train station in her car.)

We arrived in NYC on Monday, Aug. 24, 2009. The first thing we did was visit the Cloisters, at the northern tip of Manhattan. http://www.metmuseum.org/Works_of_Art/the_cloisters

The Cloisters is in Fort Tryon Park, a green, woodsy refuge beside the Hudson River. We later learned that the forest in Fort Tryon Park is the only remaining natural forest in Manhattan. (The trees in Central Park were planted there.) Here is a view of the Hudson River from the park, as we walked from the 190th Street subway station to the Cloisters.

Click on each image to get an enlarged, and much higher resolution, version.

Another view of the park. That's the George Washington Bridge in the background. The Hudson River is barely visible through the trees.

Here is the Cloisters building. It's not really a reconstruction. It is a building built in the 1930's from medieval European parts. (See the web site for details.)

Here is Sherry at the entrance. It was surprisingly uncrowded when we were there. I didn't have to wait very long to get this shot with no other people in the picture.

We stayed in a hotel on 42nd Street between 7th and 8th Avenues, just off Times Square. Here is the view from our 23rd floor window.

I liked the contrast between the elegant old building in the foreground and the modern skyscraper behind it. The old building is the Times Square Building, home of The New York Times from 1913 until 2007. The modern skyscraper is One Astor Plaza, at Broadway and 45th Street. 54 stories, completed in 1972. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/One_Astor_Plaza

Here is the obligatory shot of Times Square, Broadway at 42nd Street. New York City has banned automobiles from this stretch of Broadway, turning into a pedestrian mall.

On Wednesday we took a three hour cruise around Manhattan Island. Here is the Statue of Liberty from inside the boat. It was hotter in NYC than in Tampa that day (low 90s), and we wanted to stay inside, out of the sun, with air conditioning. Unfortunately, not conducive to good photos.

Midtown Manhattan, from the East River.

The pointed building in the background is the Chrysler Building, once the tallest structure in the world. In less than a year, it was surpassed by the Empire State Building, in height but not in beauty. Still a favorite photo shot for NYC tourists. There is a much better photo on Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chrysler_Building

Ralph Turner 1919 - 2009

My father, Ralph Turner, died July 13, 2009, at the age of 90. My brother, Tim Turner, spoke at the funeral on Saturday, July 18, in Bradenton, Florida. Here is what he said:

Thank you for joining us today to celebrate the life of my Daddy, Ralph Turner. On behalf of the family, thank you for taking the time to join us. We appreciate your being here.

I’m sure that everyone here has a story or two based on their relationship with Daddy. My goal today is to share a few of the memories we have of him and perhaps a few things all of you might not have known about him.

Texas

Daddy was born in Kaufman, Texas in 1919. Growing up as a poor farm boy and during the depression was the metal from which he was formed. These things would define him as hard working, thrifty and appreciative of every meal. He was a handsome and strong youth, later playing football in high school and college. This was when real men played football with little in the way of padding and players played both offense and defense. It was said that he could lift a 100 pound anvil from his father’s workshop over his head with one hand. (We’re pretty sure this story is true.) He used to say that the way he would get stronger was to lift a calf over the fence several times a day. That way as the calf grew and got bigger, he got stronger. (This story, we’re not so sure about). One thing I do know, he was stronger and tougher than I will ever be.

Army

During World War II, Daddy was in the Army. Originally an enlisted man, he was Sergeant in the infantry but he was later elected to Officer Candidate School and commissioned as a lieutenant in 1942. He was later promoted to Captain, the rank at which he was discharged. During the war, he said that he literally walked across Europe and despite heavy fighting never received so much as a scratch although he had many close calls.

He loved to recount stories of his time in the army. One of the stories he often recounted was a battle on his 25th birthday. That day he ran down a stair case in the house they were taking cover in somewhere in Germany. Moments later, a mortar shell blasted through the exact spot he had been standing. He figured from that point on, all life was a blessing. I am particularly appreciative that that shell missed him as I wasn’t born until Daddy was 40 and 14 years after he returned from the war.

College

After returning from the war, Daddy took advantage of the GI bill and was the first in his family (and only one of his generation) to obtain a college degree. He graduated from Texas A&M and I’m not sure I ever met anyone prouder to be an Aggie. To hear him tell it, he wasn’t always the best of students, struggling in many subjects, but compared to the teen agers that hadn’t earned their way there, he worked harder and was determined to pass.

Daddy graduated with a bachelors in Agricultural Education and later received a Masters degree. As a teacher, went on to take continuing educational courses with over 40 hours additional credit. He instilled a “learning ethic” into our family that has resulted in my brother Rollins earning a PhD, myself earning masters degree and our families all successful in higher education. A legacy such as this is one of which I think he should be particularly proud.

Teaching

After graduating from college, Daddy spent most of his career as a teacher of science or agriculture. During his years in Albuquerque, he spent the majority teaching earth science and biology. I remember I used to cringe as a kid when I would meet someone that had had him as a teacher. Usually, they would tell me about what a tough or mean teacher he was. When I asked him about it, his answer was always that none of them had any problem if they just did their work. That integrity and the work ethic associated with it, nearly got him fired when his principal wanted him to pass a football star player that had not done his work. Daddy refused and told the principal that he would have to pass him if he wanted him to play. The principal compromised his integrity and passed the player, but didn’t fire Daddy.

I think he was a fair and demanding teacher, but I’m glad that it was Rollins that once had him for a class and not me.

I am proud of the legacy that he leaves on society as a teacher. He has made the world a better place, teaching literally 1,000’s of kids, instilling a work ethic, letting them know that the quality of their work did matter and I’m sure preparing them for success in their own lives.

42

One of Daddy’s greatest joys was playing the domino game “42”. For those of you that are not from Texas, 42 is a game with trumps and suits similar to hearts or spades played with cards. It was invented by two Texas Baptist boys whose parents wouldn’t allow them to play cards. Dominos were OK, but cards would lead them down the path to sin and gambling, so they came up with a “card substitute”.

42 is sort of like Bridge, but much simpler, it can be learned in an hour but takes years to master.

Daddy was a 42 ninja master.

He took no greater joy than in drawing a perfect hand, which he did with annoying regularity. Those of that were less skilled at the game were always amazed at his ability to win bids with seemingly worthless hands.

But Daddy didn’t always win. The nature of 42 is a randomness that could sometimes cause a person to continuously get bad hands, sometimes for an entire evening and in particularly dark times a losing streak could last for weeks. Not one to take this type of thing sitting down, Daddy would make us switch chairs to try and get his luck back.

A major aspect of 42, like most games, is social. Daddy enjoyed the company and camaraderie that went with playing 42 and could banter with the best of us. A typical exchange might go like this:

“It’s your bid, Tim.”
“I’m thinking, Daddy.”
“I thought I smelled something hot.”

No family gathering, whether in Texas, Albuquerque or Bradenton was ever complete without playing 42.

Fishing

Daddy was a fisherman. Maybe it was because he spent over 20 years living in the desert of New Mexico with the closest water being a 2-3 hour drive, but he loved to fish whether it was in a river, lake or ocean. When he retired from teaching in Albuquerque, it wasn’t long before he joined good friends Stokes and Merriam Goolsby here in the Bradenton area. You see, he had visited them a couple of times before retirement and saw that not only was the water much closer, but here there were actually fish that bite and you could catch a lot of them.

Some fishermen find joy in the sport by getting away from the hustle and bustle of daily life, a chance to slow down and relax. Some just enjoy being on the water, wetting a line, patiently waiting for the bite.

Daddy was not much in the way of patience, so I’m not sure fisherman is the right term. Maybe “catcherman” is a better term. He loved to “catch” fish. After moving to his house off Cortez road, he soon developed a habit of fishing from the bridge that connects Ana Maria and Longboat Key. He developed many friends there, but unlike most of them, if the fish weren’t biting, Daddy wouldn’t hang around. He’d go home, have coffee, take a nap, only to return a few hours later to try again. There were days he returned 3 times before he gave up in disgust. After all, he was there to catch fish, not just lose bait to the little fish under the bridge.

Daddy was a pretty good fisherman too. There were several years when he bought a commercial fishing license and supplemented his income by selling pompano to the local fish markets. In reality, he was pretty happy if he earned enough to repay the license cost and the cost of the bait, but no matter what, he was happy if he was fishing.

Family and Faith

One of Daddy’s hallmarks was his love for his family. Whether children, grandchildren or great-grandchildren, Daddy always made sure that we knew he loved us. I’ve heard many stories of men who regretted not communicating with their fathers, often losing them to death before they could reconcile and tell them that they really did love them and whatever conflict they had was unimportant. I never had to worry about this as every time we talked he would tell me he loved me. He would usually end a conversation by instructing whoever he was talking to to “let the rest of them know that he loves them”.

Daddy was also a man of faith. He accepted Christ at a revival tent meeting outside of Kaufman as a boy probably about the age of my son Noah. He said that the preacher told them about hell and he knew for sure he didn’t want to go there. Daddy’s blessings on dinner never changed, but they were an important part of the process of dinner at our house. I was always pleased when he visited at our house. When Daddy said the blessing instead of me, the world was right and I didn’t have to be the grown up. While Daddy was not overt or aggressive about his faith, I knew it was strong and this was confirmed when we talked about it. He lived it out every day in the way he loved and treated others.

Only a few years ago, Daddy told me a story about my childhood. He said there was a time when I was about 1 year old when I was very sick and the doctor thought I had leukemia. The tests indicated this, but the doctor sent my parents home because some test had to be rerun or couldn’t be run until the next day. Daddy said that he and mommy went up the mountain foothills and while I played in the dirt they prayed for my healing. He promised God that if I survived, he would support me in anything I wanted to do and be there for me all the time (this is in contrast to his own father who never attended a single football game that Daddy played in). Mommy and Daddy were convinced that my presence here was a miracle. Even if it was just a test error, I do know that my father made good on his promise to God to be there for me and I also know that God has made good on his promise to him for eternal life.

Finally, before I wrap up, I want to take a moment to say Thank You. On behalf of Daddy and my family, I want to say thank you to my brother Rollins, his wife Sherry and his son Michael. Daddy has lived with them for the last 3 or 4 years starting at the time when he could no longer safely care for himself. During this time they have had four generations living together as a family. This is a special privilege that most families today don’t enjoy. Most families today would not suffer the inconvenience or sacrifice their own time and ambitions to care for an elderly parent. I know that it has been a sacrifice; I know that it has been difficult and stressful. Daddy has been blessed by your love and caring. Thank you, because I appreciate what you’ve done for Daddy and I know that he appreciated it even when he didn’t say so.

Today we have a major hole in the physical presence of our family, but that hole will never be empty in our heart. Our children may not realize the impact Daddy has had on their life, as much of who he is has been passed on and filtered by Rollins and myself. However, his life is indelibly etched on to theirs. Who they are today, how they think, how they live, how they love, what they believe has been influenced by the life and love of Ralph Turner. I can only hope that my own legacy is as great as his.

More Bullets

Cian: I've got more bullets!

Michael: Yes, I bought you some more.

Cian: Thanks, Dad!

Cian, at age five, is getting seriously into World of Warcraft!

Daddy Comes Home

We brought Daddy home from the nursing home today. He was taken in on a stretcher back at the beginning of February, after nearly a week in St. Joseph's Hospital. Today he walked out using his walker.

They had a little going home ceremony for him in the nursing home lobby, with his caregivers and us. It was a happy, teary, occasion as they sang "For he's a jolly good fellow" and said good-bye. Here he is with a shirt that they gave him. The inscription (illegible in the picture) says "Property of Palm Garden Nursing Home XXL".


We have all heard horror stories about nursing homes. Our experience at Palm Garden was just the opposite. It was wonderful to have caregivers who really cared.

Sonya, the speech therapist at Palm Garden, literally gave Daddy his life back. When we took him in, we thought he would never be able to swallow again, and that he would be in the nursing home for the rest of his life. Using VitalStim therapy she was able to get him to swallow the first day. The VitalStim therapy uses electodes similar to those used for an EKG attached to the patient's throat. The VitalStim device stimulates the swallowing muscles with synchronized electrical pulses. The therapy not only permits the patient to swallow with the assistance of the device, but also retrains the muscles so that they can work without the device. Within two weeks Daddy was eating soft foods on his own. His diet now is still restricted, but fairly close to normal.