Life is for the Living

This country is in deep trouble because of unwise moves insisted on by our current President. Nevertheless as I watched the Senate and the House yesterday two items were being argued neither of which are of earth shaking importance. The house defeated a Resolution calling for a Constitutional amendment to ban same-sex unions. The Senate and the House have both agreed to the use of frozen embryo’s for stem-cell research. So today Bush vetoed legislation which a majority of our Congress approved. I find it hard to accept a man talking about protecting life of the embryo as if it were already a living being when he sends young men and women into harm’s way on the false belief that the US is in danger from a foreign power.

Early in our marriage my wife had a miscarriage before the 2nd month. I can’t tell you what happened to the lost tissue, but we never thought of it as losing a child. At about the 8th year of marriage she lost twins at 6 months. They survived about 24 hours and were properly buried with Christian burial conducted by a Pastor friend. These two had breathed the breath of life. I guess that my belief is that LIFE begins with that first breath. In Genesis we read: “And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.” (Gen. 2:7 KJV) Up to that point there is only possibility. I admit I was a bit surprised yesterday to hear Orrin Hatch supporting the Bill. Basically he seemed to be saying that we need to deal with life as we here on earth have it. Children and others who have need of great medical discoveries are certainly as important as an embryo which may end up discarded. To call for the “adoption “ of thousands of such cells is preposterous.

Mr. President, let science and medicine alone.

Love Letter Number One

Last night I looked through some old letters Betty and I had saved over the years. Here is the first one I wrote to her from Cincinnati, OH after I had gone to the University for some graduate study - pre-planned. This picture was taken that same time period by her cousin. Good things do happen on first dates. (Betty and Harriet are the same gal - Harriet Elizabeth)

July 26. 1948

Dearest Harriet:-

Here I am the 1st day after our 1st date a thousand miles away and only the opportunity to write you. But letters are better than nothing; and after all two weeks are not really such a long time except in a relative sense. And relatively speaking it ‘peers like about an eon or two.

It was wonderful being last night with you and learning for sure that which I’d already suspected. Honestly, I didn’t think it could happen to me. Since a none to happy high school experience I’d tho”t myself immune. Women were lovely playthings, but, oh, the change a wonderful girl like you can bring about,. To toy with you would be sacrilege, to forget you would be akin to forgetting that there is a God, or that I had a mother. And I don’t forget important things easily. (Of course I locked the car last night with the key in-side. I left the house today without my checkbook, and it’’s a mile and a half from here to the University. ) It’s pretty big, but at least the Psychology Dept. will know me. Also left my pen at home - or lost it so this is a 98 cent Special ball point. (I’m in the bathtub under water writing this.) [Joke]

Classes start tomorrow - if I start writing Psychology to you it’ll just be an excuse to review the stuff while also writing you. Conscientious Student, you know. Besides there’s a greater incentive to make good now.

Oh, Harriet, Harriet, I love you
Love you more than pen and ink can tell.
Love that smile, those bright and
sparkling eyes.
Love the things you stand for,
purity and light
And love you because of them.

And when your soft, low voice,
The voice angels must speak with,
Says “Jim” I thrill within my soul
For low and sweet it says also
“I love you.”

Well, that wasn’t supposed to be a poem, but it expresses me tho’ts to youward.
I’ve written John & Jean and told them that we plan eventually to be wed, but told them to keep it under their hats for a while; not that I care who knows, but would like to hear your reaction to any publicity.

Am enclosing a picture I happen to have with me, with the fervent hope that you will do the same. It isn’t to good. I think it flatters me, but Aunt Bertha says I’m better looking that that. (God bless her.)

It’s 5 PM and I must shower and shave before 6 as Joe Litchenstein is coming by for dinner. He’s my colleague at Marshall in Psychology. So I’ll close for today.

Love you, Jim

A Poem

I was looking for something else months ago and found this poem. I think it might have been something to do with Grant Wood. Anyway the thing takes true meaning for me now.


A World of Seeming

It is a world of seeming:
The changeless moon seems changing ever,
The sun sets daily, but sets never.
So near the stars and yet so far;
So small they seem, so large they are;
It is a world of seeming.
And so it seems that she is dead,
Yet so seems only; for instead,
Her life is just begun; and this -
Is but an empty chrysalis
While she, unseen to mortal eyes,
Now wins her way in brighter skies -
Beyond this world of seeming.
- H. A. Blood in the Century.

DAILY NEBRASKA STATE JOURNAL, LINCOLN, SUNDAY 5 JUNE 1887

Musings

Well, it has been a tough week here both in regards to the heat and the bullish attitude in the Stock Market. The former has been well above average all week, and the latter has sunk. I really only keep track of the Market on weekend my portfolio is down about $3400 since last Friday. Interestingly enough it is slightly above what is was 2 weeks ago. This afternoon the temperature was at 96 with humidity at 11%. I’ve spent most of the week in the basement, and for the last couple of nights I’ve pull the light cover up before morning.

I’ve just finished watching the evening news, got some supper (do I ever miss the cook), ate while watching Jeopardy and then turned to the Seattle Mariners baseball game until Monk came on. Now I have an hour or so until Becker. Don’t really watch much else on TV these summer nights.

Between bouts of updating my Quicken data I have read further in Yancy’s “Disappointment with God.” His main point at this time seems to be that in our hurt it is not that God is not fair, it is simply that life is not fair. Good people die sometimes painful death and good people have their houses burn down as we are witnessing now in much of the West including Montana. Years ago I was teaching a class which I labeled Healthy Personality. One Spring Semester there was a hugh fire just north of Billings in the Roundup area. One of the students had her house and all her belongings destroyed. After dealing with the shock of the loss she told me that it was the best thing that ever happened to her. “Now I don’t have any reason to stay . I have the freedom to move on with my life.”

I suppose that that is the attitude we all need to have. --Move On --

Live Baseball

It was a good outing last night with Pete. We went to one of his favoriate eateries - the Rock Pile, and then to the Mustangs baseball game against Idaho Falls. (Free tickets from the Manager of the restaurant) It was a close game and tied at the end of 9. We left at that point, but listened on the radio as the Ponies got the win in the bottom of the 10th. Billings leads the Northern Division of the Pioneer League and Idaho Falls leads the Southern Division. Pete saw a number of people he knows, I saw only one. I had pretty much forgotten about all of the young kids who are at these games with their parents and in some cases Grandparents. And I found out that I am not able to follow the ball as well as I used to. Probably to much TV and instant replays.

I am still having trouble with my Quicken software. After re-entering all my 2006 data for both checking accounts and for the credit cards the damn thing screwed up again and I am not able to find the update. Maybe I’ ll give it one more try and then try some other program. It does fill in the hours - and I do mean hours.

Maddening Monday

Now to more mundane matters. Last night I found a skinless chicken breast in the freezer. That in the rotisserie plus a can of green beans, some lettuce/tomato salad and some packaged rice made dinner for Pete and myself - with his help. Tonight we are planning on going to watch our local pro-baseball team. For those who who don't know the Billings Mustangs are a farm team of the Cincinnati Reds. They are playing some pretty nice winning ball this season.

The most mundane is the fact that I somehow screwed up my financial program again and have spent most of the day re-entering date from hard copies. I have the checking accounts up to date at least.

Oh well. So much for the computer age!!##**@@@!!^

I wrote something the other day about how some of the songs from South Pacific had reminded me so much of the loss of my wife, Betty. My brother-in-law responded later that this also happens to him in remembrance of his sister who had died 25 years ago. Its only been 7 months, so it doesn’t take much for me to remember the good times and all that we meant to each other. Near the end of Tim Russert’s book about his Father and his own journey into TV he tells of the death of the 17 year old adopted son of his former boss at NBC. Russert called the man to express his sympathy. The father is reported as saying: “I don’t know how to deal with it. I had a wonderful, robust, healthy boy on Tuesday he got sick on Wednesday, and he died on Thursday.” Since the lad was adopted Russert at one point in the conversation said: “What if God had come to you and said, ‘Michael, I’m going to make you an offer. I will give you a . . . son for 17 years then it will be time for him to come home.” You would have made that deal in a second, right?”

I then thought of the over 56 years of the gift of love which was mine, and I wouldn’t exchange them for anything. To quote Russert further (he had a strong Roman Catholic upbringing) death “is God’s design, God’s plan.” He blessed me for longer than the lifetime of many including two of my own brothers. Today I picked up Philip Yancy’s book “Disappointment with God”. He starts with a visit with a young man who is giving up on God because “life isn’t fair.” I will have to admit that in my grief I have had the same thoughts. I remember being reminded of the wedding script where the clergy says “What God has joined together let no man put asunder.” And I railed within myself to the effect that while no man should separate the two God had, himself, done it. “It is God’s design, God’s plan.” I find it hard to believe that this old guy lives on in spite of having had a heart attack at 33 years of age and by-pass surgery twice. And Betty says to me one Sunday morning “Take me to the Clinic”. And in two weeks she is dead. My comfort is that she did not suffer long and most of our family were here to visit her at the hospital. 80 beautiful years and including our engagement over 56 of them I was privileged to share.

Sesame Steet

This is supposed to come up readable. Let's see!

You Are Bert

Extremely serious and a little eccentric, people find you loveable - even if you don't love them! You are usually feeling: Logical - you rarely let your emotions rule you You are famous for: Being smart, a total neat freak, and maybe just a little evil How you life your life: With passion, even if your odd passions (like bottle caps and pigeons) are baffling to others

The Sesame Street Personality Quiz

Another Monday

Not a lot going on in this life since brother Lee and his wife visited in mid-June. It was good to see them again this summer after our periodic Family Reunion last Summer. I am reminded that this time last year I was on the road coming back to Billings with Pete and Betty after the Reunion and a short visit with her family in Ceredo, WV. Traveling across the West on a holiday week-end did not prove to be all that bad. We stopped in Des Moines, IA one night, visited the Amana Colonies on the way there. The next night we were in Mitchell, SD and visited the Corn Palace. On the way to Gillette, WY we stopped at Rapid City for a short trip up the mountan to visit the "Presidents". What a rude awakening. The place has now been throughly commercialized.

The last few days I've managed to finish "The Secret Supper" by Javier Sierra and the "Wisdom of our Fathers" by Tim Russert. I am also almost through "Big Russ and Me" by little Timmy. It is amazing how much the upbringing of that kid in an Irish Roman Catholic setting reminds me of my own childhood in a Conversative West Virginia Baptist environment.

Tonight Pete is getting supper. I took him out last night rather than do the cooking myself.

Peace!

Visionary Betty

Shortly after our first child, Ken, was born in February 1950 I went off to graduate school at Penn State. In the past week I find that I am inordinately glad of that fact. I have found a small suitcase full of letters which we wrote back and forth that year. As a matter of fact there are numerous such letters from B. Clarkson to James R. Taylor which were sent to me in Cincinnati, OH just after we were engaged and I was studying at the University there the summer of 1948. There are also letter from Harriet (that was what I first knew her as and what I continued to use in personal contact) Taylor to James R. [Her family called her Betty to distinguish her from her Granny, Harriet, and her Grandma Clarkson - Lizzie.] Most every body else called her Betty and she was somewhat more comfortable with that name when addressed by others. The point is I have those letters now to bring me closer to her in my time of sorrow.

One I read today is particularly remarkable. It was written November 29, 1950. She talks about picking up “a couple of those house plans at the bank the other day. There was a wonderful few hours of dreaming. Someday -- maybe one like this. This one is mostly windows-particularly the Living room. A nice fire place, big windows, a compact kitchen, and a possible 3 bedrooms, and the big terrace makes it attractive. Pick us a Sate, a county, a city, and here we go.” What is so remarkable is that in November 1964 we were in Montana, in Yellowstone County, and in the city of Billings when we actually bought that house. Fourteen years later. There it is, above. Taken October 9, 2005 with family visiting as we celebrated Betty’s 80th birthday, my 81st, Paul’s and Louise’s 10th Anniversary and Jim and Cec’s 20th Anniversary. Along with Pete, Lisa’s and Cecilia’s birthdays also in October.

Concert

Some how or other there is supposed to be a picture here. I've just looked at the 'Preview" and indeed it is there twice. This is at Pioneer Park and is a picture of part of the thousands who were at the Symphony in the Park yesterday in Billings. Pete tells me that he was down near the yellow tent. I never would have found him as I was way up above. The picture was taken with the telephoto option. I didn't stay much because I saw no one I know and could enjoy the concert with, and the first number really sounded like the Orchestra was still warming up. That is probably a poor thing to say just because it wasn't what I was expecting to hear, but that was the impression I was getting. At any rate I had to park at least a half mile from the Park and just went on back to the car and went on home to read, and to watch Becker at 9:30 pm. Then the news and then to bed.

I'm reading Tim Russert''s latest book with notes from many people giving their memories of their fathers. My last memory of my father who died while I was in Basic Training in 1943. He was 59. The last thing I remember his saying at the depot as we prepared to leave was some regret about sending his twin sons off to war, bu that one "must render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's.

Letters

Wonder of wonders! I have been cleaning out the garage trying to decide what might be eligible for a garage sale, and what could be thrown in the trash. In the process I have come across a small overnight case which is full of letters from the past. I found one set that I wrote to Betty from Cincinnati right after we were engaged. I had gone to do some grad study at the University to support my teaching at Marshall. That was 58 years ago this July. I also came across an invitation to my ordination to the Christian Ministry on June 27, 1958 That is tomorrow - 48 years ago. I remember saying once to Betty that she should not be surprised if she woke up some day and found that she was married to a preacher and not a teacher. It took 3 years as an Instructor in Psychology at Marshall, 1 1/2 years of graduate study at Penn State and 4 years as a Clinical Psychologist in Iowa before I answered that call and enrolled at Andover-Newton Theological School. A quick look at the letters show that she was a regular correspondent while I was at Cincy, and when she was staying with her parents while I was at Penn State. Later when she was able to visit family and I had to stay on the job we wrote our love to each other often and with passion. I’ve been able to read some of the letters today, and will look them over from time to time. I suspect that my sense of organization will find me organizing them into some sort of “time frame”. It didn’t help my composure this afternoon when I read Tim Russert’s paragraphs about his mother’s death just a few months before Betty died. At least he and his siblings had a chance to tell her good-bye.

South Pacific

Several weeks ago I caught the tail end of a Carnegie Hall Concert presentation of South Pacific with Reba McIntire, Brian Stokes Mitchell and Alex Baldwin in lead roles. It was delightful and I learned that it would be out on DVD in June. The original production was apparently done in June 2005. Well, I finally tracked it down and last night (6/21/06) I watched it. It is certainly worth the price of admission, but I never thought that an old Rogers and Hammerstein musical would bring tears to my eyes. Two songs in particular caught me right in the heart. “Some Enchanted Evening.” Find a stranger - no. But an enchanted evening, yes! We ate supper at Grandmother Taylor’s house with a bunch of relatives including Aunt Bertha who, as we left to go to Church that Sunday evening, assured me that the family found her “likable”. “We like her, Jim,” she said. When I took her home we sat on the porch and when the fire whistle blew we somehow had to go out and find the fire. It was a lumber yard in the next town. When we got back we talked some more and when I finally kissed her I blurted out: “You are going to marry me, aren’t you?” That was in July and we were married the following April. “When you have found her, never let her go.” That lasted for over 54 years, but she is gone. Gone from this life, but not from my heart.

The second song was near the end of the second act when Emile sings “This Nearly Was Mine.” “One love to be living for, one girl for my dreams, one partner in paradise” Yes. If there is paradise we had to have a share of it. But then the words sung is deep sorrow: “Close to me heart she came, only to fly away. Now I am alone still dreaming of paradise.”

The play, of course, ends well and Emile and Nellie are together. I’m sure that I’ll have more to say about eternity some time in the future.

MARYLAND VISITORS

Interesting past few days. Last Saturday we met brother Lee and his wife, Irene, at the airport. They had flown in from the Baltimore-Washington International (BWI) airport to Billings. The two hour time delay has been with them all week. Since they plan to be here only for one week they don’t seem to be inclined to adjust to Mountain Time. Sunday evening our Mark and Rosanna (nephew) invited all to their place for a cookout. A number of my own children were in town to visit with their distant relative so there was a nice crowd out on Blue Creek. Jim and Cec with Natalie were in from Dickinson, ND; Annie and Bill were here from over in Powder River County (130 miles to the East); and Ken came down late from Helena MT. Pete, of course, lives here in Billings with me. In addition brother John and Jean were with us along with their daughter, Lisa and her husband, Dennis. It was a good family gathering.

Monday many of us were able to go visit the new Visitor’s Center at Pompey’s Pillar which is about 40 miles east of Billings. Most of them climbed the stair case past William Clark’s signature and some to the top of the sandstone rock pillar which Clark named. On Tuesday John and Jean took the Marylanders to the Big Horn Battlefield where Custer met his demise. That evening was able to take them out to the Feedlot Restaurant in Shepherd which is about 20 miles from my driveway. Betty and I had taken Sister Dorothy Ann and Edward there a few years ago.

I’m looking forward to being with the visitors tomorrow and showing them some of Billings which is now over 100,000 population. It was interesting seeing in the Huntington WV newspaper this morning that the hometown is losing population and is now around 49,000.

Memories

Every once in a while someone will say something to me that reminds me of how much Betty meant to them and why. I have no reason to be surprised that her life touched so many. Usually it was because of the joy she had in living. Yesterday a former collegue in the Psych Department at Rocky simply stated that when we finishing a brief visit. Linda simply said: “I truly miss Betty. You know, the kind of person it was fun to be with.” Last week a young mother from the Church told me that it was Betty who first made her feel welcome. Another friend wrote after I had given a donation in honor of her mother who was also a long time friend of ours. Bonnie wrote: “She always loved you and Betty and loved to work in the kitchen with Betty. She would often remark that Betty was always singing and happy . . . .” That, of course, called to mind that the kitchen wasn’t the only place she sang. She was constantily hummning or “singing” as we walked through the Mall or the grocery store. I wasn’t always accepting of that wondering what other people would think. Now I know.

I looked, again, through the over 100 cards people sent after her death. Many of them spoke of how open and loving she was to them and how much it meant to them. A good friend from politics wrote: “Kindness radiated from her, Jim. She as kind and sweet and supportive and I never fel anything negative coming from Betty. Never.” Another spoke of how she always had a smile.

Son, Jim, had a T-Shirt with her picture on it. I haven’t been up to wearng it yet. But his note with the gift is testimony to her humor. “When I asked Mom about making a t-shirt for you, she said to make it an x-large so that she would not be stretched.” And then he commented to what we all have experienced: “She will be missed greatly.”

Joke

It’s an oldie, but I found it the other day in a file labeled Eucunet Jokes. It was worth a new laugh, at least for me. Enjoy. You don’t have to pass it on or else.


Mahatma Gandhi walked everywhere barefoot, and so his feet were quite thick
and hard. He also was a very spiritual person. Because of his many hunger
strikes, he was very thin and frail. Furthermore, due to his poor diet, he
wound up with very bad breath. Therefore, Gandhi came to be known as a....
(are you ready?)

"Super callous fragile mystic plagued by halitosis."

Sociable Jim

Well, maybe not to socialble. Breakfast this a.m. with brother John"s family -Jean, Mark, Lisa, Rosanna, after which we had a delightful slide show of photos taken during John and Jean's recent trip to the great southwest. It is good to see them home after more than a month of absence.

This afternoon daughter Annie with husband Bill came in and we went to dinner at the Golden Corral. Before that I made a necessary appearance at the Church as a long time couple celebrated a wedding anniversary, the birth of their daughter and the wedding anniversary of their, I think, grandson. After dinner I drove the 34 miles out to Joliet, MT for the 50th wedding anniversary of a long time collegue at Rocky Mountain College. Jim McDowell and wife Roberta (Bert) have been good friends for many years as Betty and I joined with them in a Faculty Bridge Club sometime ago. Jim tells me that he is on the schedule for next year, but does not yet have a contract. He believes that the new administration is trying to get older faculty to retire in an effort to cut the budget.

Many of the people present at the McDowell function were not only their children, but numerous Rocky Students who were also students and advisees of mine. It was great seeing many of them again. Bill Hope always tells me that I was the first person he met on campus. He showed up in the office and I was stitting there with my legs stretched out on the desk drawer. 'I'm Bill Hope" he said; and allegedly said to him: "Hello! Where have you been? I've been waiting for you." And that I had his file on the desk at the time. It is good to be long-time appreciated. Others greeted me warmly as an old friend and not as a former Dean or Administrator.

I didn't stay at many of these functions long, but it has been satisfying to have been in attendance.

Pussycats

Another think that both Feller and Bednarik mentioned in their talks was the currrent state of todays so-called athletes. I have, myself, often wondered how any body who is paid as much as many of those guys are paid could be so often on the DL (disabled list). Now a football player plays either offense or defense. Bednarik went both ways. Sometimes a guy will be paid well for appearing only on "special teams": kickoff or punt return. Bednarik went both ways. Feller usually pitched a full game without relief. Nowadays we have pitchers who are "good" if they go a full seven innings. A player strains a muscle sliding into base or reaching for a fly in some unnatural way and he's out for a few days or longer. How is it that Cal Ripkin could set a record of games started and today's "stars" aren't apt to come near it. They don't take good care of themselves in the off season and they still demand high salaries whether they are capable or not. The owners are nuts to keep them, and the players union is out of line to support the woosies. As one of the guests suggested: to much pay and to little play.

Incredible Night

Last night was incredible. My nephew, Mark, invited me to attend a fund raiser dinner for an organization of which he is President - PLUK, Parents Let’s Unite for Kids. It is a program designed basically to help parents and teachers deal effectively with kids who are in some way “handicapped”. When I got there Mark took me to the “head table” where the two speakers were seated. One of these men I have known of it seems forever. Bob Feller began to pitch baseball with the Cleveland Indians while I was still in college. During WW 2 he entered the U.S.Navy. He was chief of an anti-aircraft crew on the USS Alabama. After the war he went back to Cleveland and continue to make his mark in Major League Baseball as “Rapid Robert” until his retirement in 19516. By that time I had my Master’s Degree and had moved to Iowa, Feller’s home state, and from there on to Seminary in Massachusetts. Feller not only knew of Marshall (my alma mater), but also knew that a movie of a tragic airplane accident involving the football team was being produced. The man is in his late 80’s and still sharp. The second speaker was Chuck Bednarik. I had heard the name, but was unaware of one of his famous tackles as he played for the Philadelphia Eagles. I introduced myself to him as “Jim Taylor”, and got an appreciative response. Sorry, but you will have to read the following to understand that.

"With the Eagles leading the Packers 17-13 late in the game, Bart Starr moved the Packers down the field. The ball was on the Eagles 22 when Starr threw a swing pass to Taylor, who was heading to the end zone.

"Enter Bednarik. At 35, he was the oldest player on the field. But even after playing 58? minutes and leaving the frozen field only for his team's kickoffs, Bednarik still had enough left to get to Taylor. "He got through a couple of our defenders," Bednarik said, "but he had to go through me. That wasn't going to happen."

"Bednarik met Taylor at the nine-yard line, and in the words of sportswriter Bill Lyon, "wrestled him to the cold, hard ground like a rodeo cowboy bulldogs a steer and then sat on the squirming, seething Taylor until the clock blinked down to all zeroes."

Bednarik punctuated the moment with a verbal exclamation point, telling Taylor, "You can get up now, Jim. The game's over." It was the Eagles' last NFL championship and the only time Vince Lombardi lost a title game as head coach."

For his whole career Bednarik played both ways and was often known as “Concrete Charlie” It was a delight to sit beside his wife, Emma with Chuck on the other side. Both of these guys were there to make money for PLUK. They were down to earth essentially humble every day guys

Thanks, Mark, for a great evening.

WATER PROBLEMS

I've played around with ideas from time to time the last few days about something which might be worth putting on this Blog, but have tended to reject all of them. Today my dear niece wrote of a potential water tragedy at their home when the water hose on the washing machine broke while they slept. The noise of running water did not attract enough suspicion until things had gotten pretty much soaked. For one thing she commented how the newly laid and admired laminate was now squishy and would likely need to be replaced. It reminded me of the time I was out of town and Pete came by early one morning to pick up the paper and found that a hose at the bathroom sink was split and water had soaked the run and through the floor to basement. The tiles on the ceiling of the lower bathroom had been “washed” away. At the time I though of replacing the bathroom run with laminate until I read somewhere how unwise it would be to put laminate where it might get wet. The rug was dried and then left in the garage for a time until I finally decided that it didn’t look that bad and it may as well go back in its place. After all it had already be cut to fit around the toilet and the lavatory cabinet. How glad I am that Pete decided to come by in the morning on his way to a work out rather than after he had been to 24/7.

Another interesting bit had to do with Betty. A picture of the daughter of the Art professor who worked with her as she was into clay was in the paper the other day. My almost immediate thought was to cut it out and send it to her. Unfortunately heaven doesn't have either an 800 number or a Box Number and Zip code.