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THIS WEEK IN REVIEW ....Feb 14, 2008
This weeks Reporter-Don Smith
 

  Glen Combellick      Scott Manley      Doug Harder

Guests:    Randy Smith introduced Rich Long.

Fines:   Harder fined the President for berating the Sgt. At Arms, (Scott) for not having “Guest” tags available.

Announcements: Jacobus: Sign up sheet is coming around for Freedom Week, Feb 19 th At Sheridan Four Pointes at I-25 & Hampden. Registration 10:30-11:15, lunch 11:30. No regular lunch that week.

Benton: Trip to Blackhawk for Mardi Gras sometime in March 13 th. Need 40 people, have 33 so far. Ask your friends and neighbors, they don’t have to be members.

Rees: We still have tickets left for the 25 th Annual Charity Raffle. Hurry up and sell those things. April 19 at Pinehurst C.C. Think about door prizes and such. It was announced that Miss Colorado is pulling the numbers.

The Sgt. @ Arms presented Jim Perkins with a wooden, Sertoma pencil holder as the Handshake prize winner.

Don Smith’s name was drawn a second time for the POG but the Chair ruled since he already had won the Flying Fiver, he was not eligible to win again. This would be the first time this reporter has ever heard that you can’t win twice in one meeting.

Bingo Report: 109 players and a deposit of $5,200. E-team up this Friday


SERTOMAN OF THE DAY: 

Bill Benton, the one and only car salesperson in the club, was the honored SOD. (he mentioned he is 27 months older since the last time he was SOD. Records show it was only12 months, Jan 4, 2007 to be the exact date. Bill is also our favorite candidate for Sertoman of the Year and has won several awards during his years with Arapahoe Sertoma.

Denver native - entering the scene Sunday, October 14, 1928, makes him 79yrs, 4-1/2months old. Graduated from Manual High School – joined the Navy in 1946 and served for 3 years, 2 months, returned to Denver and graduated from the University of Denver in 1954. He mentioned that the U.S. has not been raided by Japan since he enlisted to protect this country.. Married Betty (who passed away 10 years ago). Daughter Cindy retired from Metro West Fire, and a son still flying the nation’s air routes with United. Bill also has a granddaughter that is 23 and a snowboarder ski bum. She moved to the mountains to be close to the slopes.

Bill has peddled cars for Burt Chevy for more than 43 years ( 54% of his life) and claims to have sold about 22,055 cars by the end of 2007. He was asked if he held the title of being the longest employee at Burts but he isn’t, he is real close though.

ill has a ‘significant other’ Gail, who seems to keep him out of most trouble. Bill was brought into Sertoma by Bill Anderson, a long time ago, back in the days when we met at Wyatt’s cafeteria. He’s been a consistent and faithful doer of good deeds ever since

Program:  

Mabe introduced Joe Osman who came to tell us about a 3 week trip he made to China and other countries in that part of the world. He wanted us to know that he was not an expert of china. Joe traveled with a tour company called OAT, whose parent company is GrandCircle.com. OAT stands for Overseas Adventure Travel and usually have small groups of maybe 15 compared to much larger groups.

Joe is 82 and still very active and still skis. He said that during the tour, he and some of the older members were able to climb places that some of the younger folks couldn’t do.

The group left LA, flew to Tokyo and then on to Beijing, China and stayed in the Beijing Hotel. He said that China was a great place to visit and very beautiful. One day, the group visited the summer Palace of the leader of China, it was a holiday and full of Chinese tourists. He said people speak English all over the country and that their kids are required to learn English in school. He also toured Tinamen Square and there was no military present anywhere.

On the next day, they went to the Great Wall of China and climbed to the top. Joe was amazed at the rugged country that the wall was built on and how large it was. On the way to the wall, the group stopped at a city that was selling condo’s.

Another trip took the group to a new area of Beijing that full of high-rise buildings. The buildings were 20-25 stories high and a single units would cost about $60,000 and in the main lobbies of the buildings, there were many small booths selling all kinds of things like appliances and furnishings for the condo unit.

The group took a train ride and Joe said he had a room on the car designed for 4 people but it only the 2 of them. He thinks it was because he didn’t complain to the tour guide like some of the other people did. They stayed at a Japanese hotel and a Chinese home. No one at the home spoke English because the daughter was on a date.

Some other things they saw was a Panda reserve, it is believed there may be only about 400 Pandas left in the world. They saw the site were the buried statues were found. Buildings have been built over the dig site. Went to Tibet where there was a shortage of paved roads but went to a place where there are statues of all the past Dali Lamas. There were piles of money collected from the poor people laying at the base of the statues. Another spot to visit is the 3 Gorges Dam and rivers. The area is very hilly, only about 10% of the area has farmable land, the rest is on hills, terises as far as you can see.

Joe strongly recommends that if you get a chance, you should visit China. He said his 21 day trip, 3 years ago, cost about $4500 per person. He said he was going to spend HIS money before Hillary gets into office. He had a lot to tell us but just didn’t have the time.


   Jim Perkins  Dick Laskey Don Smith

      On the calendar .. www.arapahoe-sertoma.org/cal.htm

Sertoma Application form: app.pdf


     BINGO

Feb 22 – Bingo Team A
Feb 29 – Bingo Team B
Mar 7 – Bingo Team C
Mar 14 – Bingo Team D
Mar 21 – Bingo Team E

 

 

Feb 19 – Freedom week
Feb 28 - Regular Meeting - SOD – Benton
Mar 6 - Regular Meeting - SOD – Bezjak
Mar 11 - Board meeting 6p.m. All members welcome
Mar 13 - Regular Meeting - SOD – Buckland


   Click the printer (or here) for a printable version

   Editors notes:    
If you want an electronic copy of the Roster,    send me an e-mail.     donny46@comcast.net

Movie review:




             


*The Love of a Friend*

"Watch out! You nearly broadsided that car!" My father yelled at me.

"Can't you do anything right?"

Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.

"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt.

Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back. At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside to collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil.

What could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.

The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing. At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived.

But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctor's orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.

My husband, Dick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him

adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Dick. We began to bicker and argue. Alarmed, Dick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But the months wore on and God was silent. Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it.

The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem to each of the sympathetic voices that answered but in vain. Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article." I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.

I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons; too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly.

I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked then shook his head in puzzlement.

"He's a funny one. Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him.That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?"

"Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."

I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said. I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.

"Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly.

Dad looked then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it" Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples.

"You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!" Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed. At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate.

We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw.

Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.

It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.

Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night. I woke Dick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene. But his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Dick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.

The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church. The pastor began his eulogy; it was a tribute to both Dad and the dog that had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers."

"I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.

For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article; Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter, his calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father, and the proximity oftheir deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.

Life is too short for drama and petty things, so laugh hard, love truly and forgive quickly.

Live While You Are Alive. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.