Friday, August 17, 2018

Santorini Surprise by Kim Lawrence-Breuer

“We’re not in Kansas anymore” came to mind when we first laid eyes on Santorini, Greece, so different from anything back home, with its white washed buildings clinging to cliffs perched high above the Agean Sea. After a ten hour flight, followed by a two hour layover in Athens to catch our small plane to the Island, we at last arrived to the quaint, boutique hotel. Despite our exhaustion we were eager to explore, not wanting to waste a minute of our 48 hours. Before heading out I sought out Maria the friendly villa manager, “Is it too early for dinner”, I asked, my preconceived notion late afternoon was siesta time.  She assured us everything on the Island was open from early until late.  The steep street out front took us to the main plaza of Fira, Santorini’s capital. Suddenly a frantic rush of traffic came at us from all directions with little regard for our lives, as we jumped back in the nick of time.  I was also on my way to breaking my neck with these ridiculous, platform sandals, that had no business being on uneven, cobblestoned streets.  Soon however we discovered a delightful taverna, making everything fade away. “Good evening Mademoiselles” our hostess warmly greeted us, who seemed to anticipate just what was needed as she led us to a quiet corner. Here was our first taste of Greece where we fell hard, especially for the unusual white eggplant, so sweet it melts in your mouth, only cultivated on the island with its volcanic soil. A double scoop of gelato cooled our palates, making for a great first impression of what Santorini will offer.

The next morning we took Maria’s sage advice to get right up with the alarm, even though our jet lagged bodies believed it was 1:00 am back home on EST. Fueled by a hearty breakfast of eggs with tomatoes and feta, followed by Greek yogurt with toasted walnuts, drizzled with the most heavenly honey. This was no ordinary tasting honey. That’s because Greeks have taken their honey seriously for 3,000 years. Fueled by a hearty breakfast and strong coffee, we made our way up winding steps far above the streets, where a shopping paradise existed. Here expensive goods mingled with touristy souvenirs. Boutiques abounded and we weighed in on the trendiest styles, observing women wearing loose, gauzy pants and flowing blouses, in sharp contrast to the guys who sport super tight pants with fitted tops. Which they pulled off nicely to our eyes. Speaking of eyes, everywhere we went the big blue eye stared back at us. It was embedded in jewelry, clothing, even furniture and is believed to ward off sudden bad luck caused by the evil eye. Apparently the gaze of blue eyed people are thought to project the evil eye best.  Careful not to stare too long at others, my blue eyed daughter and I did not want to be accused of casting any spells.  At the end of a long, day our bags were filled with all things Greek; olive oil soaps, sea coral bracelets and painted ornaments and coasters with island scenes.

A breathtaking path took us to bars and restaurants lining the cliff’s edge where we went in search of more Greek food and views of the famous, fiery sunsets. Here friendly but never pushy staff stood outside toting the virtues of their establishments. We settled on one based on the scope of its menu. The moussaka layered potatoes, eggplant and tomatoes topped with melted feta, and spanakopita, a flakey feta filled spinach pie, didn’t disappoint. The service was what we had become accustomed to, efficient but never rushed, for the Greeks pride themselves on being gracious hosts.  As headed back, we stopped to watch patrons have their feet nibbled smooth by tiny, garra rufa fish. Although tempted to dangle our tired dogs in the giant fish tank, we were anticipating a glass of home grown Retsina wine from our quiet patio, with the moon rising low in the sky over darkened waters.


Copyright © 2018, Kim Lawrence-Breuer. Material may be reprinted or distributed only with author permission

Sunday, August 5, 2018

Toxic Tea by Carol Creswell

It was hot and noisy on the surgical ward at twilight in the summer of 1958. New patients had been admitted for the next a.m. surgery and the young externs were making rounds and taking verbal histories of their patients for medical records and the next day’s procedures.

The young head nurse felt sorry for the would-be doctors who had been assigned to this obscure hospital in a small college town. They were working slowly and carefully, conducting their interviews and going room to room, dealing with clients. Some patients were hard-of-hearing, some were apprehensive, and most were just plain hostile and stone-faced and resented intrusion of their privacy with the questions about bowel habits and sex partners.

Nurse Annie decided she would make some nice fresh iced tea to refresh the docs a little. They were a cute gang of guys and she wanted to make a good impression.

Finishing her medication distributions to the patients, she got busy in the tiny kitchen on the ward.

Teabags? Check.   Ice water? Check.  Sugar? Check.  Lemon?  OH OH. No lemon ANYWHERE and the main kitchen was undoubtedly closed at this late hour.  Hmmm…what to substitute? Jelly pack? Nope. Milk or cream?  Gosh, no.

Aha! What about this bottle of G.I. prep for a colonoscopy? It was strongly lemon-flavored and just a little bit wouldn’t hurt. She mixed and measured and prepared a tray with tea and ice and a few stale cookies from a glass bin of sweets. She carried it all down the hall and with her brightest smile and cutest wiggle she went to each room and offered the externs a drink. MOST OF THE PATIENTS WERE N.P.O.—meaning nothing per os or mouth—and couldn’t partake. THAT TURNED OUT TO BE A BLESSING.

Nurse Annie was complimented and thanked and received a few winks and hugs that made her heart skip a beat. Feeling very self-satisfied, she clocked off duty and left for her apartment at 10 p.m.

NEXT DAY.
7 a.m.

Nurse Annie came on duty to chaos. Externs had all been seen in the ER—emergency room—for unexplained diarrhea. Was there a new Virus on the ward?

Do we cancel surgery?

IS THIS AN EPIDEMIC?

Blood studies of the externs proved negative, and the diarrhea crisis passed by 11 a.m.

Annie didn’t have the ’chops’ to explain what every guy had been drinking on the hospital ward the previous night.

Some had gone out for a beer at 10 that night and blamed it on ‘that bar we went to.’

THANK GOD.

The End


Copyright © 2018, Carol Creswell
THE ESSAY TITLED TOXIC TEA IS COPYRIGHTED AS PART OF A BOOK CALLED ‘HELP! NURSE!’ TO BE PUBLISHED BY AUTHOR CAROL CRESWELL R.N.


My Teacher by Mimi Benson



My teacher wears workman’s shoes with heavy laces

that could take him places no one else would dare to go,

over rocks and streams

over dangerous ice and snow.

His shirt is a friendly one, faded from many washings.

I hope it is his favorite, but I don’t know.

Sometimes he wears a crisp, new shirt that means business

like a sharpened pencil

or a clean, white page.

But now, in his faded shirt he seems to say

bring me your poems.

I care what you dreamed today.


Copyright © 1986, Mimi Benson
Material may be reprinted or distributed only with author permission.


Quotation #4 by Mimi Benson


There is a Japanese legend:
“If you can’t sleep at night, it’s because you’re awake in someone else’s dream.”


Here in my room, the clock nears midnight

I want to be asleep.

But I am captive in someone’s dream,

walking through his left-over thoughts, in the

room of his imagination.

And there I do his bidding, meet his friends,

get up to dance.

The clock moves on and pale light will begin

to creep nearer my bed.

Another day

and I am tired from dancing the night away.


Copyright © 2018, Mimi Benson

Material may be reprinted or distributed only with author permission.