Sam Does Meditation – Part II – Courtney Webb
(Previously, Sam Reynold, PI, gets very bored with life and needs a change. He gets an invitation from Green Veil Monastery to come for a weekend retreat and decides to go.) Part II
Later that week: Green Veil Monastery

Sam checked in at the office and confirmed his payment. Going out the door, he was greeted effusively by Brother Huang.

“Sam- shi! So, good to have you back!” Huang made a low bow and then put his hand out for a shake, American style.

Sam extended his hand and the brother pulled him into a hug and clapped his back.

“Nice to be back, Brother Huang.” Sam said somewhat uncertainly. He was still not convinced this was a totally sane idea.

“Yes, yes. You unpack your things and we have lunch, yes?”

Sam was a fit sixty-six years and worked when he felt like it. He had met Brother Huang a few months before when he had tracked a missing woman to the Green Veil. Brother Huang had helped Sam with the woman and then offered a invitation to come back and learn meditation ‘sometime’.

Sam nodded and was led to his tiny dorm room by the silent major-domo of Huang. A tall, skinny young man, he waved Sam into the room and promptly left.

At first, Sam felt like the young man was being rude. Then, as he unpacked his bag he thought to himself, He’s neither friendly nor unfriendly. He’s just neutral. That’s different. Oh well, time for lunch.

Sam took his shoes off at the door and was lead to some low tables. With an uncomfortable grunt, he lowered himself to the floor. Immediately, one of the servers handed him a big pillow to sit upon. He schooted his butt onto the fluffy square with relief.

Getting up will be fun, he grimaced, thinking about the arthritis in his hips.

However, he forget his aches as he was soon chatting with Brother Huang and other guests. The servers ran back and forth with big aluminum trays covered with an array of dishes.

The table was soon covered; a female server brought him a fork wrapped in a napkin and bowed. He thanked her. He realized, looking around, other people at the table were eating with chopsticks.

Hum, he told himself, one step at a time, maybe tomorrow.

His senses were entranced by smells coming from the mix of little separate bowls. Many of the items he did not recognize. He started with fish and rice, two things he knew. He began to eat. Ah, surprisingly good! He wolfed down some more of what looked like trout and started to gingerly pick at a couple of other offerings.

There was an assortment of guests at the table. A couple of middle-aged female school teachers were to one side. They babbled incessantly at Huang about the benefits of meditation. On another side, were a couple of millennials on short holiday from the IT tech business. They mostly talked and laughed with each other about people and events only they knew. An assortment of other types were scattered down the row. The staffers were also having lunch. Sam could hear them practicing their English with the Americans. They would frequently lapse back into their native tongue. Sam, not a language expert, thought maybe it sounded like Korean.

“So, you new here?” The little woman to his left peered up at him with enormous blue eyes. She smiled brilliantly. For a moment, he was taken aback by her silver jewelry. Trinkets occupied every spot on her neck, ears and fingers. They tinkled when she moved, and various stones winked at him.

“Ah. . .” He mentally shook himself. “Yes, first time, very first time.”

“Oh, you’ll love it!” She gushed. “We just love it. Don’t we, Silvia?” she turned to her companion. Silvia sat bent over her food. She had drab, straight brown hair cut in a plain bob. Steel rim glasses adorned her nose and she wore what looked like a dark green painters frock.

Silvia nodded dumbly and kept eating.

“I’m Lydia. Lydia Glass. And you are. . .?” She extended a tiny hand.

Sam managed to put down his fork a moment to shake her hand.

“Sam, Sam Reynolds, ma’am.” He grabbed his fork up.

“Oh, Silvia, he called me ma’am! Isn’t that just adorable?” Lydia gushed some more.

The younger woman nodded slightly.

“Silvia’s my daughter,” Lydia explained with a wave.

She turned back to Sam. “So, what are you in for?” She beamed.

“In for. . .?” Sam stared a moment. “Oh, you mean, why am I here?” he tamped down his mustache.

“Drugs, alcohol, broken heart. . .?” The little lady gestured expansively around the room. Sam noticed her thick, hot pink fingernails.

Acrylic? He thought. Aw, Kristie would know.

Lydia leaned toward Sam and batted extremely long eyelashes at him. They reminded him a little of black spiders.

“We came for weight loss, didn’t we, Sylvie?” Sylvia kept eating.

“You. . .?” she dazzled Sam with the whiteness of her teeth as she smiled again.

“Ah. . . smoking.” He managed to get out. “Stopped smoking on my own, but still keep having cravings and I don’t want to go back to it.”

“Ah, smoking! The Devil’s own handmaiden. I know, I know.” Lydia inched closer to Sam. “I never smoked, of course. My dead husband would have never stood for it. But, I understand from all my friends who are ex-smokers that it is the very worst thing to quit!”

Sam started to choke from the intense smell of Lydia’s perfume. It had a musty, cloying aroma he didn’t like. He looked up to see Brother Huang watching him, eyes twinkling.

“Sam-Shi, are you about finished? Would you like a tour?” Brother called out.

Sam stuffed in a last mouthful of rice and nodded. He began the laborious process of uncoiling out from under the table. At 5’11”, Sam wasn’t the tallest American going. Still, he was having a devil of a time trying to figure out where to put his long legs and an equally tough time retreiving them.

With some more grunting he managed to get up. He immediately felt sharp twinges in his back.

Lydia began to protest that they were almost done and could come too. She began shoveling rice into her mouth.

Huang put out a stopping hand, “No need, no need, ladies. Take your time, please. They will be serving coffee very soon. You can tell some of our newer members about the benefits of your meditation practice.” He bowed low and placed a hand under Sam’s elbow, quickly steered him out of the dining room.

Outside, Sam had to stop, bend over, hands on knees, and take a couple of deep breaths.

“Oh, my. That perfume she was wearing.”

Brother Huang laughed lightly. “Ah, the lady Lydia. She is a widow and is what I think you American’s call ‘husband hunting.’ ”

“Wow, I guess so,” was Sam’s reply. “What a get-up. Why not take a cruise? I hear that’s a great way to meet new people.”

Huang glanced over his shoulder and continued walking. “Between the two of us, that is her very next stop.”

“Does she really do the meditation thing?”

“Oh, yes. I think maybe it is to calm anxiety and get rid of wrinkles.” Huang laughed.

Sam was breathing again and had to chuckle. “Well, I don’t know about wrinkles. But, it is true about the smoking thing. I have been craving cigarettes again and it was dang hard to stop the first time.”

His companion nodded. “Understood, understood. I have heard such a thing many times. Come, we will get you some proper clothes for mediation and we will begin in the big hall at 1 pm.”

Huang led Sam into a little laundry/clothing facility. The girl started to measure Sam for the tunic/pants combo he would be wearing.

“You are very tall, Sam-Shi but I think Yumi will be able to find you something. I will see you at 1:00.”

“Yes, you will and Brother Huang,” Sam was sincere, “thanks for rescuing me back there.”

Huang smiled, did a low bow and disappeared out the door.

Sam got his clothes and went back to his dorm room for a wash-up and a little lie down before the class started.

He lay down on his bed, which was mercifully not on the floor, and texted Kristie.

“I here, the weather is great. XOXO.”

“Oh, good, sweetie. Thanks so much for understanding about the kid thing.” She texted back.

“No problem, have a good time.”

She texted back a row of kissy faces. He turned off his text and closed his eyes.

He dozed for a few minutes when he became aware of the sound of voices. The voices were fairly close. Male? The sound was muffled. It didn’t sound like an argument exactly, but certainly edging toward a disagreement.

“Jesus. Can’t you leave that stuff behind for three days,” he mumbled and turned over pulling the pillow over his head.

The alarm on his phone went off and he sat up. Damn, the class starts in five minutes. Got to hustle.

End of Part II

by Courtney Webb

(Sam Reynolds, PI, is home alone feeling very bored and thinking about his life. Thoughts about some old cases come up.)

The next case was a forty-five-year-old married woman. Sam found her working as a waitress at a bar in a coastal marina, two hours away. The formerly brown hair was now blond. The woman sported a new tanning-bed tan and a hot pink tube top over some very short shorts. She took his drink order and retreated back through a flower patterned bead curtain next to the bar. Sam pulled out her picture again and squinted at it. Yup, same woman, different hair.

Returning, Marilyn Cummings plunked down his cold Budweiser; he handed her a ten. She turned to leave. Quickly, he held up a picture of Benjamin, her cubby, balding husband of twenty-five years.

“Benjamin sent me,” he told her.

The woman’s mouth dropped. She looked stunned, then angry.

“How the hell did you find me?” The freshly applied lipstick formed a tight line.

“Would you like to sit, Ma’am?”

“For about one minute and don’t call me ma’am,” she replied tersely, sitting.

“He misses you, Marilyn. Mr. Cummings would like you to come home.”

A shadow flickered over her face but passed.

“Well, tell him I’m not coming home. I am sick to death of church meetings, picnics, and the Lord. Then, those Sunday dinners with that old bat he calls his mother. Her nitpicking me to death. . ..” She seemed to run out of steam and stared off into space.

“He needs to know you’re alive, so he doesn’t file a missing persons report with the police.”

Her head whipped around and she stared at Sam a moment.

“Do you have to tell him where I am? Jesus, I don’t want him mooning around here bothering me!”

“If you can give me something to prove it’s you and promise to contact him, I won’t have to give him specifics.” Sam sipped his beer and eyed her over the rim of the bottle.

She stared into space again. Stuffing the ten into her apron, she got up.

“I’ll be back in a second.” She disappeared through the curtain and was gone several minutes.

Sam played with the label on his beer. The weather here was beautiful. Clear sunlight with a light breeze blowing through the cheery cantina. The place was decorated with lots of yellow, orange and acid green posters. Banana leaves peaked over the veranda and there was an excellent view of the ocean. He wouldn’t mind working here himself.

The beads on the curtain clicked together. Marilyn reappeared with a small, white envelope in her hand.

“Give him this,” she handed the envelope to Sam. “Tell the little turd I will give him a call. Or, my lawyer will.”

Sam looked at the envelope. “Benji,” was written on the front. He nodded and stuck it in a pocket.

“Can I get back to work now?” She waved at customers sprinkled around the bar, talking and laughing.

Sam sensed his cue, took a last sip of his beer and got up. He patted his pocket. “I’ll give this to him Ma’… Mrs. Cummings. Thank you.”

She nodded curtly, and he made his exit.

Back in Tranquility, California, Sam’s hometown, he drove the truck up to Cummings Insurance Agency. He got out and went into the office. A young lady with an outdated Farrah Fawcett hairdo greeted him.

“I’ll get Mr. Cummings.” Sam sat and waited. Benjamin Cummings hustled out and greeted him.

“Sam, Sam. Come into my office, please.” The same cubby man in the photograh appeared.

Sam followed Ben Cummings into the man’s office and sat. Cummings closed the door and came around to his desk and sat in a big brown leather chair. He looked eagerly at Sam.

“You found her?” He reminded Sam of a lost St. Bernard puppy.

Sam nodded and pulled the little package out of his pocket.

“I did, sir. She asked me to give this to you.” Solemnly, he handed it over.

With a questioning look, Benjamin Cummings slowly took the envelope and stared at it.

“That is her handwriting, isn’t it, Mr. Cummings?”

Cummings nodded silently. He reached out a pudgy hand for a silver letter opener. He sliced the letter open. When he turned it over, something fell out with a little clunk. He picked it up. It was a gold wedding ring. The man began to cry.

Sam shifted uncomfortably and tried to look away.

Fidgeting, he thought, Geese, I could use a cigarette right now. He patted his moustache instead.

Cummings grabbed some Kleenex and blew his nose.“What did she say?” He looked at Sam with emploring eyes.

Sam told him and advised Mrs.Cummings agreed to be in contact.

Cummings nodded numbly. “I guess I owe you the balance of your fee, since you found her.”

“Well, if this is a bad time. . .”

“No, a deal’s a deal.” Cummings reached into a drawer and pulled out his check book. He wrote Sam a check and handed it to him. Sam looked at the check. It was for the exact dollar amount agreed upon previously.

“Thank you, sir.” Sam got up and was about to leave when Cummings stood up and held out his hand. Sam shook it.

“Thank you, so much for your service, Sam. The Lord be with you and have a blessed day.”

Sam forced a smile on his face and turned to escape. He got into his truck and shook himself.

“Geekville. Good luck, Marilyn.” He went to deposit his check.

‘#’

Memories of these events stirred in Sam’s brain as he stared out into the soggy landscape.

Plunking a broad-brimmed hat on his head, he went out and did a walk around the front yard. Neighbors were jumping in cars and charging off to work and school. A couple waved as they drove by. He waved back and stared around. More grey, wet dampness everywhere. Depressing.

Turning back to the house, he checked the mailbox and discovered a little envelope he hadn’t noticed before.

“Hmm.” He read the return address: Green Veil Monastery. “Wonder what they want?”

He took it inside and got out the silver letter opener Kristie had given him. He slit the light green paper open.

“Mediation for the Soul — Come for a three-day retreat at the beautiful Green Veil Monastery. Learn to master your inner mind.”

“Don’t know about mastering my inner mind,” Sam chuckled. “Is that like the inner child?” In a moment, he realized what was wrong with him. “I am bored to shit,” he told the room. “I am, 100%, bored out of my ever-loving mind.”

He turned the card over and looked at it again.

The price isn’t bad for three days, he thought, and I bet they serve meals too. Might have to sleep on the floor on one of those matt things.

“Oh, what the hell.”

He underlined the phone number with his pen and went to get his phone.

“Hello? Yes, this is Sam Reynolds. I’d like to speak to Brother Huang. Yes, he knows me. Thanks, I’ll wait.”

Sam started to hum a little tune. He needed a change of scene and he had liked that place. Very green, pretty.

Months before, a distraught mother and grandmother hired Sam to find their child. A possible kidnap/suicide victim. Using intuition and tracking skills, he located the girl at Green Veil Monastery, east of San Francisco. He made a short acquaintance with Brother Huang who ran the monastery. Sam liked him.

“Brother Huang? Yes, Sam Reynolds here. Remember me? Of course you do. Well, I got this little invitation in the mail. Something about a retreat. Oh, you sent it. Well, I guess I’ll have to come then. Right, talk to your assistant. Okay, will do and see you then.”

Sam gave the assistant his credit card information. He got off the phone and started humming a jaunty tune. This could be fun. He couldn’t wait to tell Kristie.
“#”

“Meditation!” Kristie broke into a laugh. “You’re kidding. You?”

Kristie leaned forward and held a hand over her mouth to cover the laughter.

Sam frowned and smoothed down his mustache.

She finally took a deep breath and straightened up, saw his face and quickly composed her face.

“Sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s. . . well . . .” she waved a helpless hand his way.

Sam looked hurt but tried to recover himself. “I know, I know. It’s a little different is all.”

“Well, yes, you could say that.” Kristie, Sam’s longtime squeeze, sidled over and gave him a big hug.

He smiled a little.

“It’s . . . a little unlike you, I guess I should say.” She pecked him on the cheek. Grabbing her coffee cup, she moved away a little and looked to be trying to overcome another case of the giggles.

Sam pursed his lips. “You think I shouldn’t go?”

Kristie slid her eyes sideways at him then started inspecting the morning paper. “No, no. It might be . . . good for something. Blood pressure, that kind of thing.” She studied the paper, avoiding eye contact.

“Well, yeah.” He paused a little uncertainly. “I quit smoking you remember. All by myself. No nicotine patch or nothing. Powered through it.”

She nodded. “True, true.”

“You want to go with me?”

Kristie looked up,stricken. “Go with. . .? Ah, what do they do there, other than hum?” She started to smirk again but caught herself and stopped.

“Well, I don’t know for sure. I went that one time and there was a bunch of them in a big room, sitting on the floor. They were following the master in the front.”

“Following the master. . .” Kristie goggled a little. “Ah, well. . . I don’t know about that. Sounds a little religious to me and I get plenty of that every Sunday.”

Sam looked disappointed. “You might like it, something different.”

“Well . . .” Kristie was teetering on the brink of indecision when the phone rang.

Kristie picked it up. “Chelsea? Yes, it’s mom. How are you? It’s been ages! This weekend? Well, I don’t know?” She cast a pleading look Sam’s direction and he gave a dismissal wave and pointed at his watch.

“Yes, yes. That would be okay. No, not doing anything. Sam? Well, he might be out of town. I know you like seeing him but . . . “she gazed at him again, “He might be doing something else.”

Sam went over and gave her a quick hug and tousled her curly, dark blonde locks. At fifty-five years, she was still a looker. He kissed her cheek.

“I’ll be going,” he whispered. She nodded back and blew a kiss in the air.

“Boyfriend? You have a new boyfriend? Want to bring him by? Well, sure, that would be great. I’ll have to clean house of course, which is a big bother, but . . ..”

Quietly, Sam let himself out the front door and went and got into his pickup truck. He patted the little green envelope.

“Yep, this might be a very quiet weekend indeed.” He drove off home.

Continued – Green Veil Montastery

by Courtney Webb

It was early spring, and the weather was overcast and drippy. Rain was intermittent in the valley and the ground, soggy underfoot.

Sam Reynolds stared gloomily out the glass slider at his backyard. He clutched a hot mug of coffee in one hand. Slow drips of water followed one another down, drip, drip, from the eves. He gave a sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh and turned back to the kitchen table. The morning news was spread out and he turned some more pages with a listless finger.

“Jesus, even the sports section is a zero!” he told the still air.
He had to admit, if only to himself, those last two cases had left him feeling flat. “Uff,” he shook his head. Sam, a self-employed PI, had successfully completed two missing persons cases. Two missing persons who had not wanted to be found.
‘#’
To celebrate his sixteenth birthday, Thomas Dolby, Jr., had run away from home. A pair of concerned parents had hired Sam to find him. It wasn’t difficult to track the kid to a dive in the southeast section of town.
Sam checked the address,parked his truck, being sure to lock it carefully, and walked to the run-down, clap-board house.

In his clean white T-shirt, blue-jeans and cowboy boots, he was aware that he was still better dressed than many residents of this neighborhood. He knocked on the door. He could hear some shuffling inside. The door eventually creaked opened.

“Yeah?” The desultory inquiry oozed from behind a tattered screen door.

“Sam Reynolds.” Sam held out his wallet with the PI license tucked behind a plastic sleeve. “Like to speak to Thomas Dolby.”

“What’s for?”

“Just want to speak to him.” Sam looked around. Neighbors were peeking at him as he stood on the porch. There was a small pistol in his right boot, but he really didn’t want to have to use it. “I have something for him he’d like to have. From his parents.”

Sensing the smell of money, the hook was undone and the door pushed open. A shabby young man, in dirty clothes and barefoot, stepped back and stared at Sam. Sam grabbed the door and went in. The living room was an indescribable mess of clothes thrown everywhere and bits and pieces of food, drinks, trash and clutter. His host was shuffling away toward the kitchen. Several other teens were lying on old sofas, half-asleep.

“He’s in there,” his greeter waved down the hall.

Sam had several pictures of the boy and knew he would recognize him. He got to the second bedroom and pushed open the door. Thomas Dolby was lying on a mattress on the floor, in his boxers. His arm was around a skinny red-headed girl with impossibly white skin. His eyes were closed. Sam went and stood over the two. He nudged Thomas with the toe of his boot. The kid opened his eyes.

“Thomas Dolby?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m Sam Reynolds and I’ve been sent by your parents to bring you home.”

“Fuck off.” The dark-haired youth rolled on his side toward the girl.

Sam looked around the filthy room. A pair of newish jeans were thrown in a corner along with a pair of very expensive Ugg boots. He grabbed the jeans and threw them at the kid. “Get up.”

“No!” the kid rolled into more of a ball, clutching the girl who mumbled protest.

Sam came over to the side of the mattress and squatted down. He tried to not touch anything.

“Thomas, it’s like this. You get out of that bed, put your pants on or I’m calling the police. They will come and arrest you, your little girlfriend and everyone else in this flea-bag dump for being under-age and on drugs. Then, your parents can pick you up at County jail.”

Sam stood back up. “I’ll give you ten minutes to decide. I’ll be outside.” He turned and left the room.

Picking his way gingerly through garbage and bodies, he pushed through the screen door and stood on the sagging wood porch. Some people on the sidewalk had paused to gawk at him.
Jesus, I could use a cigarette right now, he thought to himself. And, I don’t want to be here a minute longer than necessary.

“Shit!” erupted from inside the house. There was some mumbled conversation and a very angry Thomas Dolby banged out the screen door, pulling up his boots.

With no further conversation, Sam walked off the porch and headed toward his truck. He didn’t bother to look back. He unlocked the passenger side and opened the door. The kid got in. Getting into the driver’s side, Sam put on his seat belt and started the truck.

“Fasten your seat-belt.”

“I don’t want. . ..”

Sam gave the kid a long cold stare.

“Crap!” Thomas grabbed the belt and jammed it in place.

Sam smiled pleasantly and pulled from the curb. “Starbucks?”

Forty-five minutes later, they were both nursing tall Starbuck’s coffees. Thomas had wolfed down two large scones at Sam’s expense.

“Good to see you’ve still got an appetite.”

The kid was sullen and said nothing.

They pulled into the huge drive of the exclusive home on the northeast section of town. Sam had already texted the mom that he had Thomas and they were on their way.

An anxious, but ecstatic mother burst out the front door as soon as they pulled in and grabbed the boy. Thomas allowed himself to be hugged and hustled inside. Dr. Dolby, Sr. was standing at the front door watching this scene. He waved at Sam.

“You found him,” the man said simply putting out his hand for a shake.

“Yes, Dr. Dolby, I found him.” Sam shook hands.

“Let’s go into my study.”

Sam followed the doctor past the grand foyer into a smaller, side room. They went in and his host shut the door. Dr. Dolby went and sat behind his desk and pulled out a large check book. Sam sat in an ox-blood leather chair with brass stud details. He liked this chair. In fact, he liked the entire office. Sort of an Old World, navigational feel to it.

If only I could decorate, he mused to himself. If only I had the money!

“So, give me the details,” the doctor asked. Sam did.

Frowning, Dolby busied himself writing out a check for Sam’s fees. He looked up and handed it to him. Sam looked at the check and his eyebrows shot up.

“Well, thank you, sir.”

Dolby waved his hand dismissively. There was a sad, pained expression on his face.

“Like I told you before, Sam. I don’t know what I am going to do about my son. His grades, his friends. Now this. . .running away, not answering his phone. His mother half sick. . . not knowing what had happened to him. He’s in the best school in town.” He shook his head. “I’m at my wits end.”

“Are you asking me what I think, sir?” Sam folded the check and put it in his pocket. Dolby nodded, head down.

“If it was my son, I’ll let him flunk. Start to appreciate some of the consequences of his actions. Keep the curfew going. If he doesn’t comply, take away his key. Then, if the drugs and alcohol thing keeps on, he’s sixteen, right?”

Dolby nodded.

“I’d stick his ass in a rehabilitation place and maybe they can talk some sense to him.”

Both men got up. “That’s a thought, Sam.”

“Yes, sir.” Dolby reached for the door. “Finding him this time was easy,” Sam added. “Next time. . . might not be so easy.”

They walked to the front door and went out.

“Thanks again, Sam.” Dr. Dolby held out his hand again. Sam shook it.

“I love your money, Doctor, but really, I hope you won’t need me again.”

The doctor sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Sam gave a little wave and left.

to be continued

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In 1991 my little family made a trip to San Bernardino, CA to see the folks. On the Sunday of the visit, we got breakfast at the Bob’s Big Boy Restuarant, (I think they are closed now.) My husband ordered eggs and hash browns. When the hash browns came out, I didn’t like the way they looked and told him they looked faintly blue.

Being the macho kind of guy he is; he went ahead and ate them anyway. On the drive back to the San Fernando Valley; he had to pull the car into the center median on the freeway, open up the car door and throw up on the pavement.
By the time we got home, he could barely walk up the stairs and was running a fever. The fever climbed to, I think, 102.

I made a call to my GP and told him what was going on. I told him we were short on cash and couldn’t really afford an ambulance, etc. The doctor called in a script for antibotics which I ran to get. The next day, my husband was almost completely well. I really doubt any doctor in town today would do that.

This week I had a flare up of lower colon inflammation. It took me a week to realize what it was. However; while at my usual medical offices, the nurse took my temperature and it was one degree elevated.
I then went to the front desk and asked to speak to my regular doctor’s nurse. She was in a meeting. Could I write down everything and they would give her a message?
An hour later, I got a message from the nurse that I should go to ER if the symtoms were bad. It was only a message so there wasn’t anyone to speak with.

I felt the symtoms were not good but that I could wait until the next day, Friday, to see a nurse in their system since my doctor is gone on Friday. I got onto the patient portal and picked an appointment for the next day. The appointment was for a different office.

When I got to there, I was informed that they cancelled the appointment because I was not an established patient in that office. After much back and forth, I advised the receptionist I would have to speak to someone and eventually the office manager came out. More words exchanged; i.e., why did they let me book an appointment if I couldn’t be seen? Lastly, I told her, my situation is getting worse and I need to see someone today. Both young ladies at the front desk kept pointing across the street to an ER clinic that was open and telling me I could walk in there.
At long last, the office manager managed to get me an appointment at yet another one of their clinics further away. I took the appointment; saw the nurse. She prescribed the usual antibiotics and I paid my copay of $35 and went to get the pills. A day later, I’m on the mend.

The cost for the walk in ER clinic would have been at least $100 to $150 dollars. The last time I was in a hospital ER (stuck contact lense) the cost was $1729. Mericifully, the insurance paid most of it.

So, the question remains; why are nurses and doctors both pushing hospital ER’s and walk in ER clinics? Are doctors not treating illness any more? Maybe just doing a lot of tests to be sure the patient is ‘on tract’ and prescribing medication refills. Not once since I have been with this medical provider did I have a conversation with the doctor over the phone. It is always a medical assistant or maybe a nurse. What is going on here?

Here are some satistics about the difference in the prices of hospital ER’s and private walk-in clinics. The walk-in clinics are much cheaper. Still, both are still more than a visit to your regular doctor with whom you have a relationship and wherr the office has all your health records. I have gone to ER’s only on weekends when the medical offices were closed. These days, I would not consider calling the doctor on a weekend short of death or dismemberment.

So, the last word here is the unbelievable journey I had to go on to get medical care on a Friday, not a holiday, when the medical offices were open and patients were being seen. I was pushed, pushed, pushed to go to a hospital ER room. I understand many doctors now take Fridays off, but really? So; in conclusion -just don’t eat any blue hash browns.

Statistics from Debt.org.
https://www.debt.org/medical/emergency-room-urgent-care-costs/
Condition Emergency Room Cost Urgent Care Cost
Allergies $345 $97
Acute Bronchitis $595 $127
Earache $400 $110
Sore Throat $525 $94
Pink Eye $370 $102
Sinusitis $617 $112
Strep Throat $531 $111
Upper Respiratory Infection $486 $111
Urinary Tract Infection $665 $112
The Annals of Internal Medicine study found that the average cost of an urgent care visit for three common illnesses — middle ear infection, pharyngitis and urinary tract infection — was $155. Other estimates place the average urgent care visit at anywhere from $71 to $125. The bottom line is that an urgent care visit is substantially cheaper than an emergency room visi

After reading some of these articles, I gave away my packaged bread and my long time friend – seasoned salt. I have gotten bread and rolls at the French bakery. Guess what? They taste better anyway! Going ‘all natural’ is a real challenge; but the crock pot is heated up and homemade soup is cooking. That plus the bread and Viola! Dinner is served!

LIFESTYLEHEALTH & WELLNESSNUTRITION – The Sydney Morning Herald
This was published 2 years ago

How preservatives can make us gain weight
By Evelyn Lewin
Updated August 19, 2017
When choosing what to eat, we all know fresh, unprocessed food is probably best.

After all, processed foods usually contain more sugar, salt and fat than their unprocessed counterparts, all of which can cause our waistlines to bulge.

But there’s another reason why processed foods can make us gain weight: because of the preservatives they contain.

Those were the findings of new research published in Nature Communications.

The research found that preservatives interfere with our hormones, disrupting the process that tells us when we’re full.

They do that by distorting the chemical structure of those ‘signalling’ hormones. That disables the process by which hormones are transported out of cells, making them ineffective.

Without that signal telling us we’re full, we’re more likely to keep eating and gain weight.

“This is a landmark study that substantially improves our understanding of how endocrine disrupters may damage human hormonal systems and contribute to the obesity epidemic…” said Clive Svendsen, director of the institute.

For the study, investigators used hormone-producing tissues grown from human stem cells.

They then exposed the tissues to three different types of chemicals, including Butylhydroxytoluene (BHT) which is commonly added to breakfast cereals and other foods.

The other two chemicals they investigated can be found in seafood and cookware.

Of the chemicals tested, BHT produced some of the strongest detrimental effects, said investigator Dhruv Sareen.

The problem these days is that most foods we eat contain some level of preservatives, says dietitian Kathryn Hawkins.

She says preservatives play an important role in preventing health risks from food being spoiled or becoming toxic.

But some foods contain more preservatives than others.

Foods with the highest amounts of preservatives include canned foods, processed meats, cheese and wine, Hawkins says.

So if preservatives can mess with our hormones and cause us to overeat, should we try to eliminate them from our diet altogether?

Such an aim is unrealistic, says Hawkins.

However, she says there are steps we can take to minimise our intake.

Firstly, we should aim for the majority of our diet to be fresh food.

Then, we should wash fruit well before eating it, opt for organic meats and eggs and include plenty of legumes and nuts.

Scouring farmer’s markets for preservative-free food and making foods like bread from scratch at home can also help.

But even Hawkins says we don’t have to be evangelical.

“It takes a lot of preparation, organisation and a bit of extra time, and not everyone can do this every day!”

Of course, going organic is also an option, though she notes such options are not always “completely chemical-free”.

Or we could opt for foods that use natural preservatives.

They include substances such as salt, sugar, lemon juice, vinegar and rosemary extract.

But they’re not perfect, either.

“Obviously salt is not ‘better’ for us [than other preservatives],” says Hawkins, who explains that a high salt intake is associated with high blood pressure and cardiovascular disease.

“Sugar is also not appropriate to eat in large quantities.”

Perhaps the ‘best’ preservative is ascorbic acid, also known as vitamin C, says Hawkins.

While it’s commonly used in bread, jams, fruit juices and other snack food, she says its use as a preservative is limited.

(That’s because, in high doses there is a risk of vitamin C toxicity. Plus its flavour can affect the taste of food.)

Instead of trying to find the ideal preservative or eliminate our intake of them altogether, Hawkins believes our focus should simply be trying to eat well.

If you’re worried about how preservatives are affecting your weight, she says your best bet is to cut back on foods that both contain preservatives and offer minimal nutrition, such as sweets and packaged snacks.

You should then consider the health and nutritional benefits of what you choose to eat.

If you opt for fresh, minimally processed foods, you will naturally reduce your intake of preservatives while filling your body with healthier options.

And that can only be good news for your waist.

HealthDay Reporter

WEDNESDAY, April 24, 2019 (HealthDay News) — If you’re watching your weight, you probably know to avoid sugary and fatty foods. But what about preservatives?

Eating a preservative widely used in breads, baked goods and cheese may trigger metabolic responses that are linked to obesity and diabetes, an early study suggests.

The additive, called propionate, is actually a naturally occurring fatty acid produced in the gut. When it’s used as an additive in processed foods, it helps prevent mold.

But in the new study, researchers found that feeding mice low doses of propionate gradually caused weight gain and resistance to the hormone insulin — which, in humans, is a precursor to type 2 diabetes.

And when the researchers gave healthy adults a single propionate dose, it spurred a release of blood sugar-raising hormones — and a subsequent surge in insulin.

None of that proves propionate-containing foods raise the odds of weight gain and diabetes, said senior researcher Dr. Gokhan Hotamisligil, a professor at the Harvard School of Public Health.

“The point is not to say this additive is ‘bad,'” he stressed.

Instead, Hotamisligil said, his team is interested in understanding the effects — good or bad — of the various “molecules” humans consume in their diets.

“There’s a scarcity of scientific evidence on a lot of the things we put in our bodies through food,” he said. “Propionate is just one example.”

Still, Hotamisligil said, the findings do raise an important question: “Could long-time consumption of propionate in humans be a contributing factor to obesity and diabetes?”

When it comes to processed foods, the concern is usually directed toward ingredients like added sugar, sodium and trans fats. But there’s also a host of additives that, according to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, are “generally recognized as safe.”

Despite that “GRAS” status, though, there is typically little known about how those food additives might affect metabolism, according to Hotamisligil.

Dr. Emily Gallagher is an assistant professor of endocrinology at Mount Sinai Icahn School of Medicine in New York City.

Unfortunately, all the really decent Republican candidates have dropped out of the race. Probably don’t want to pit their cash reserves against the Trump. The only Democrate left standing is Pete Buttigieg, a relative unknow. Will have to find out more about him in the coming months.
Candidate % Votes Pledged delegates

Donald Trump 97.1 31,464 39

Bill Weld 1.3 426 1

Joe Walsh 1.1 348 0
Other 0.5 151 0

Source

Total votes: 32,389 • Total pledged delegates: 40
991 delegates needed to win the nomination
22

Pete Buttigieg
21

Bernie Sanders
8

Elizabeth Warren
7

Amy Klobuchar
6

Joe Biden
0

Andrew Yang
0

Congratulations, Mr. President. You have skated through an impeachment hearing by the hair of your chinny-chin-chin. You have become a liability to the party and to the office of President. Any Republican that votes for this guy again is a complete fool. That said, who else is running against him?

Updated Dec. 27, 2019https://qz.com/1696901/2020-republican-presidental-candidates/ Quartz Magazine – Livni, Merilli and Rohrlich.

Donald Trump now has a few challengers from within Republican ranks in the party’s 2020 presidential primary race. He has not referred to them by name, but in a tweet on Aug. 27 called them “Three Stooges.” The candidates seem to feel similarly about Trump. Their platforms are primarily focused on what they see as the dangers Trump presents, and getting their party’s president out of office. Polls still indicate that the vast majority of Republicans say they approve of how Trump is doing his job.
Here is a look at who is running—in the order they entered the race—and possible candidates for the Republican nomination. (Social media figures below are as of Aug. 28.)
Who is officially running?
Bill Weld
REUTERS
The former Massachusetts governor isn’t wedded to any one party, he says, but to an ideal of fiscal conservancy coupled with moderately progressive policies. In January, he changed his registration from Libertarian back to Republican ahead of announcing his run for president in April. Weld was the first Republican to win the statehouse of the Democratic-dominated New England state in 20 years when he was succeeded Michael Dukakis. He served from 1991 to 1997, quitting during his second term to when he was nominated to be US ambassador to Mexico by Bill Clinton. He withdrew when his confirmation stalled in the Senate. In 2008, Weld endorsed Democratic nominee Barack Obama. In 2012, he supported Republican Mitt Romney. In 2016, Weld officially became a Libertarian and ran as the party’s vice presidential nominee all while expressing support for Democrat Hillary Clinton. He supports abortion rights, was an early advocate for the legalization of same-sex marriage, and has promoted the legalization of medical marijuana since 1992.
Age: 74 Years in political office: Six
Who gives him money: Weld, a lawyer and private-equity firm partner, has contributed substantially to his own campaign. He has received about a quarter-million dollars from donors giving under $200. More than half of his funds—about $450,000—come from large individual donors. He’s received no money from political PACs so far.
Biggest idea for the economy: Zero-based budgeting. Weld wants to cut taxes and spending, beginning with the federal budget.
Social media following: Twitter: 83,800, Facebook: 85,074, Instagram: 243
Who will like this candidate: Fiscal conservatives, centrists, Never Trumpers, and people from Massachusetts who don’t love the progressive bent of Elizabeth Warren, the Democratic presidential candidate who is a US senator from their state.
Who will hate this candidate: Voters on the left who want more social programs and strong progressive policies, Republicans who support Trump.
What he says about Trump: ”I do think it’s not a stretch to say that, at some level, Mr. Trump is a sick man. And I don’t mean physically, I mean in his head. There’s lots of furies there. I wouldn’t want his demons. You know, I think that, like all bullies—and it’s clear beyond peradventure that he’s a bully—he is insecure.”

Joe Walsh
A Tea Party Republican from Illinois, Walsh served one term in Congress before losing his seat to Democrat Tammy Duckworth in 2012. Walsh then became a conservative talk radio host, with a syndicated show carried by the Salem Radio Network. The right-leaning company has been steadfast in its support for Donald Trump, and quickly dropped Walsh from its roster after he announced his bid on Aug. 25. Walsh, who has expressed regret over his history of using racist slurs, is running, like pretty much everyone else in the race, as “not Trump.” Yet, in many ways, the two are quite similar: Walsh—who says he plans on making a “moral case” against Trump—also has a checkered (and rather sordid) financial past, rife with unpaid debts, tax liens, and foreclosures.
Age: 57 Years in political office: Two
Who gives him money: Walsh’s has not yet filed financial disclosures for the 2020 election cycle. His 2010 congressional campaign included major contributions from insurance companies, the hospital and nursing-home industry, and the investment/securities interests. Retirees were also an important donor bloc. Walsh has not reported using any of his own money in the past.
Biggest idea for the economy: Reduce the size of government and shrink the national debt, which has ballooned to almost $1 trillion under Trump.
Social media following: Twitter: 223,000, Facebook: 1,000,000, Instagram: 6,200.
Who will like this candidate: Conservatives who hate Trump, Republicans who hate Trump, Libertarians who hate Trump, independents who hate Trump.
Who will hate this candidate: Anyone who loves Trump.
What he says about Trump: “I’m running because Donald Trump is not who we are,” Walsh says in his announcement video. “He’s the worst of who we are.”
HANDOUT VIA REUTERS
Mark Sanford
AP/EVAN AGOSTINI
Mark Sanford speaks at OZY Fest in 2018.
The former South Carolina governor and member of Congress officially announced his bid on Sept. 8, indicating he’ll focus on the federal deficit ballooning under Trump. Sanford earned both the libertarian Cato institute’s recognition for best governor in America and the watchdog group Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington’s ranking as one of the worst governors of the country in terms of ethical conduct. He was raised in Florida as the son of successful heart surgeon who had the family sleep in one bedroom to save on air-conditioning costs. In  2008, the married governor disappeared for five days, after telling his staff he was going to hike the Appalachian trail, only to be found in Argentina with his mistress. (This episode was the origin of the expression “hiking the Appalachian trail” as a euphemism for cheating.)
Age: 59 Years in political office: 19

Who gives him money: Financial firms and banks (including Lazard Freres & Co., Chilton Investments, and JP Morgan Chase) have been his largest individual donors in the past, while the real-estate industry was the largest contributing sector.
Biggest idea for the economy: A believer in conservative economics, as governor he tried to reject South Carolina’s share of the 2009 federal stimulus package (he was eventually ordered to accept by the courts). Warning of a financial storm ahead, he proposes much tighter control over the US debt ceiling.
Social media following: Twitter 17,300, Facebook: 79,800.
Who will like this candidate: Libertarian voters, fiscal conservatives, Never Trump Republicans.
Who will hate this candidate: Trump supporters. 
What he says about Trump: “So ready for a President that can move beyond either self praise or put down to one who will focus on the debt & deficit that have gone wild under his time in office,” Sanford tweeted in response to Trump calling him “Mr Appalachian Trail.”
Roque “Rocky” De La Fuente
AP PHOTO/MATT VOLZ
Roque De La Fuente
An entrepreneur and businessman who’s had a career in car sales, banking, and real estate development, Roque De La Fuente, known as “Rocky,” is accustomed to running for public office. in 2016, he sought the Democratic party nomination, then ran as Reform Party and self-funded American Delta Party candidate in the same election, coming in eight in the popular vote. In 2018, he sought the nomination in nine senate races—winning none. In May 2019, De La Fuente announced his candidacy to challenge Trump in the 2020 election.
De La Fuente’s name is on the ballot in a dozen states, and he owns businesses and property in several of them. His program reflects the candidate bipartisan inclination. De La Fuente talks about gun control, immigration reform that “unites families, not divides them,” promises to match immigrants with job shortage, and supports environmental protection and investment in renewable energy.
Age: 65 Years in political office: 0
Who gives him money: Himself.
Biggest idea for the economy: Match immigrants with job shortages, invest in renewable energy to create new jobs.