We visited Arlington on Saturday, December 29th, to close out 2007. The marker had been placed sometime in August and we had not yet seen it. Time slips by so fast. The engraving was as I had requested... with the addition of Dad's 101st Airborne designation of which he was so proud. Mom is with him and her inscription is on the other side. This is the ultimate in togetherness... forever. Just as they both would have wanted.

The letters "PH & OLC" signifies Dad's Purple Heart and an Oak Leaf Cluster. The Oak Leaf Cluster was awarded as recognition for being wounded a second time in combat. The first time was when he was hit by anti-aircraft flak as he was jumping out of the C-47 on D-Day on June 6th, 1944. The second was for his wounds at the Battle of the Bulge that led to his capture when the 101st Division Field Hospital was overrun on December 19th, 1944.

Last week while Bob, Chris and I were cleaning out the garage, we came upon a surprise. In an old bird seed bag was one of the few souvenirs Dad had from his active service days. We believe it is a D-Day-era parachute but we don't know its history.


It's dated 1944 and manufactured by the Irving Air Chute Company, Inc., Lexington, Kentucky. They were the original suppliers of the 101st and 82nd Airborne Divisions. The control lines have all been removed at about 24 inches below the canopy suggesting this was a used or rejected unit made unusable for further service.

I received a simple postcard today from Arlington Cemetery stating that the headstone has been installed. It was postmarked August 23rd. I suppose this is the last penny postcard Dad (and Mom) will receive. It will be made a permanent part of their extensive collection.

A Tornado in Back Creek???

Friday evening, July 27th, a strong line of thunderstorms passed through the Northeast. This ominous cell overtook the neighborhood and for the next half hour, pelted us with rain, hail, and swirling winds. The tree at the left is now gone as are several others from all over the development.


The image is a frame captured from a digital video.

Monday, July 2nd was the first anniversary of Mom's passing. Lisa and I placed a small vase of red, white and blue flowers on the grave site. The temporary markers are still there waiting for the headstone to be completed.

Mom and Dad were interred at Arlington National Cemetery on Monday, June 25th just after 2pm. I will post video and photos as they become available. For the record, the grave site is: Section 54, Grave 3627. It is within visual distance of the administration building and an easy walk from the parking lot.

As of this morning, the headstone text has not been finalized. Dad's POW status was not included on the paperwork given to the Arlington staff so I emailed to them a different document that mentioned his release from a prison camp.

Once there is agreement on the headstone, it will take about a month to deliver and set at the site. I'll let everyone know the schedule as it becomes more certain.

After a very short letter to the funeral home, Dad's obituary has been posted to the News Journal web site: http://miva.delawareonline.com/miva/cgi-bin/miva?obits.mv+69582

It is dated June 20, 2007.

This is the back of the prayer card. Bob drafted the first version keying on words found in the 101st Airborne Quarterly changing a few things. Chad and I changed a few more. I think it turned out beautifully. The front of the card was fittingly an eagle superimposed over the flag.

Do Not Forget Me

Tho’ the years have passed so swiftly,

With an open heart and open mind

I’ve watched all of you

My family

Grow into men and women.

My love for you has never waned

Tho’ the grass grows above me

The warmth of the earth surrounds.

I have been with you so short a time

But I will be with you forever

Do not forget me.

Chad had a very special relationship with Dad and Mom. They all had extraordinary impacts on each other's lives.

This is Chad's eulogy for Dad.


IN LOVING MEMORY OF

FRANK L. Davis

By Chadwick Boyd

February 9, 1923 - June 3, 2007

His name was Frank, Lester, Lec, Dave, Davis. He was Honey…Dad…Grandpa. He was a son, a brother, a husband, a father, a grandfather. He was a friend, a neighbor, a leader, a teacher. He was an engineer, a jokester, an artist…a magician. To me, he was everything.

I met him when I was three…and it was kismet from the very beginning. I was a little boy, gregarious and determined, with a big smile and a lot to say, but without a full voice. I was full of potential. And he saw it at the start.

For the next 32 years, without condition, he worked hard –teaching me. Guiding me. Inspiring me. Loving me. Molding and shaping me into the man I am today. It’s a gift that I still am learning to fully understand and appreciate. And a gift that I am now entrusted with to share with others – to change the world in my own way – for good.

Grandpa is why I do what I do today. To be the expressionist I was born to be. To tell stories that help people. To encourage them to be better. To be the best that they can be. To live their best lives.

He pushed me to be courageous. To believe in myself…no matter what anyone else said. He pushed me – sometimes really hard – to “Do it. Do it. DO IT!!” (he would always say that). And he was fearless. Something that I always admired in him. He had fire in his eyes…behind this extraordinary glow of life. He truly loved living – every day…and making every day special…in simple – yet BIG – ways…for others.

Grandpa had a way of creating magic. All of you know that Grandpa was all about Christmas. One year, when I was about 8 or 9 in mid-December, I was sick. So Grandpa went out and bought a Christmas tree by himself. He brought it home to Grandma and me. It seemed small to us – strange for a man who LIVED for a big Christmas tree.

I was soooo disappointed. Disheartened. Christmas would never be the same. It was ruined. I went to bed, deflated, thinking “this is the worst Christmas tree ever! How could MY grandfather – Mr. Christmas – pick out the ugliest tree?!” The holiday was over.

When I awoke the next morning, Grandpa was already up and going. As I got out of bed, he stood by his bedroom door, waiting for me to head toward the kitchen. As I turned down the hallway, cringing a bit for fear of seeing that blasted ugly tree, I was STUNNED! I looked up, and before me was THE MOST BEAUTIFUL TREE! My eyes bugged out of my head; my mouth dropped to the floor…I gasped for breath. “GRANDPA! What happened? Did Santa Claus bring a tree overnight???!!! Did you go out and buy another tree??!!” Both Grandma and Grandpa belly laughed at my reaction. And Grandpa beamed with excitement and pride.

You see, Grandpa knew how disappointed I was when I went to bed that night. But, he saw the potential in the tree. So, he stayed up all night…twisting branches from front to back. Tying them with twine and rubber bands from one side to another. He drilled holes in the trunk and moved branches from top to bottom. All to create the perfect Christmas tree – just for me. For everyone.

And he delighted in the moment the next morning when I saw the transformed Christmas tree in sheer awe.

It was then in that moment that I learned that it was in the giving of the gift that was so special. It was the thought behind it. Therein lived the magic. The spirit of life.

Grandpa lived a life creating magic for everyone. He LIVED for it. He created a 9’ handmade Eagle to make earning the Eagle Scout honor worthy and special for 101 young men. He ingeniously made by hand – from a pattern out of a children’s’ coloring book – a Santa sleigh, eight reindeer and a Rudolph with a blinking red light bulb for a nose that brought joy to the hearts of children young and old – for more than 40 years. He made popcorn balls, concrete marble lights, handmade birthday cards, rubber banded everythings(!), a patented “Rocket to the Moon” board game, Whiskey sours – his “slushes,” reinforcement rod tree houses…and so many more magical things that ALL OF US here in this room and beyond could continue to list. And he prided in being in the moment when we experienced his creations.

My uncle, Glenn, sent me this note when he heard the news about Grandpa’s passing. It says a lot about how prolific Grandpa’s good deeds, his teachings, his expressions of love, his moments of magic meant to so many – those whom we know and those we never will.

“I am very sad to hear this news. Your Grandfather was an exceptional person. You are very fortunate to have had such a person in your life. Knowing him has been a true blessing for me as well. He was a role model to me as I matured and will continue to be a role model as (my son) Cole's scouting career takes off, with me as Cub Master. I could listen to his stories for hours on end. I will miss him greatly. I'm sure that he is now reunited with his true love, Clare, and all of his pain is gone. I think of him often, even today, since it is the 63rd anniversary of D-Day.

Unfortunately, we cannot attend the services on Saturday, but I will honor him by continuing with a leadership role in Scouts.”

There probably are a litany of others who have a personal story like my uncle’s…many of you, I’m sure…about how Grandpa touched their lives…and encouraged them to be better. Where he created magic for them. And inspired them to make a difference in their own way in their lives and the lives of others.

My friend, Ron Clark, writes in his book,

The Essential 55:

“To me, life is all about experiences, the ones you make for yourself and the ones you make for others. As a teacher and a person, I have tried to give special moments to people.”

I believe that. I know Grandpa did, too.

If I have done nothing else in what I shared with you about Grandpa today, I do hope that it has inspired you to make more of a difference in the lives of children. Guide them as they grow…hug them…tell them that all things are possible…as my grandfather did…show them in every way possible that they are cared for, and make special moments for them that will add magic to their lives, motivate them to make a difference in the lives of others, and, most importantly, teach them to love life.

My grandfather, Grandpa, surely did.

We had the funeral for Dad on Saturday. There were dozens of memories arrayed among the flowers and photos. Eulogies were given by Chad, Uncle Ray and me. Chad will post his somewhere in the future. Uncle Ray's was not written before hand but was nicely done. This is mine.

My Dad

Thank you all for coming together today to celebrate Dad's extraordinary life; a life of honor and an incredible drive to make each day better than the day before. Thanks too to the staff here at Doherty Funeral Home. Their professionalism makes this difficult task so much easier to bear. Jim taught us how it's done with our first experience only 11 months ago. Mike took good care of us this time. So we thank them for their caring and assistance.

I've dreaded this day for so long but here it is. After Mom's death less than one year ago, I thought we would have some time for Dad. After all, he was pretty worn out taking such good care of Mom while recovering from his own broken leg and pacemaker implant... and continuing to endure dialysis every other day. But that was not to be. Cancer came roaring into our lives and in three short months, he was gone. Like I say to the irritation of Maryellen and Lisa, "All time happens at the same moment. We are simply too simple to understand it."

=============

How do you sum up a life?

How do you express your gratitude for a lifetime of love that was totally unconditional?

How do you say goodbye to your best friend? A friend that is always there no matter what... never too busy to come to your aid and never asking for anything in return.

=============

For all of the struggle with Mom and her failing health, Dad never complained once about taking care of her; getting anything she needed; jumping up from the couch every 5 or 10 minutes to fetch the next cup of coffee or glass of water. His face never showed even the slightest reluctance but only concern and compassion for his "Honey". Her passing was hard for Dad but he was strong. For the next six months, he would fall asleep with Mom's picture sitting on his chest. But dialysis kept him busy. Three times each week and doctor's appointments sprinkled in between left him little time for boredom. Virginia would be there every morning at 8:30 to get "Her Man" up, cleaned and dressed by 10:00 so he could motor out to the paratransit bus. Virginia was a true member of the family having taken care of Mom for a time too. After getting Dad ready, she would get Mom something to eat and sit with her for a while. "Some of your time" is what Mom cherished most. Waiting for Dad to return after dialysis made a very long day of boring mid-day television.

Thank you Virginia for being such a good friend to both of our parents when they needed someone they could depend on and trust. (Dad just loved buying her a cheesecake and watching her face light up when she opened the fridge!)

==================

Dad was a true role model. As a youngster, I would play army man with my toy rifles and pistols but I knew Dad had been a real army man. Although he never talked about it, Mom would talk about how handsome Dad looked in his Army uniform and on rare occasions we would be allowed to look at his 101st Airborne books that had a panoramic picture of "A" Company with him standing tall in the middle of the photo. Dad was also pretty fast with his hands and especially his feet. He would wrestle the two of us and not even use his hands. He could throw knives from 60 feet and make them stick in any tree he wanted. He told stories of trapping muskrat, beaver and rabbits and selling the pelts to the fur trader from Sears and Roebuck. There was also the story of how he impressed Mom by shooting a pheasant through the throat at 100 yards so it wouldn't make any noise and alert the neighbors. He was the kind of hero you heard about in the movies... except this was my Dad!

============

When Mom died, Dad became my anchor. We kept Mom close by remembering her at every turn. Her clothes still hang in the closet. Dad was just beginning to talk about finding someone who would appreciate her sweaters and sending whatever was still usable to Goodwill. We had a few good months. We even went to Bethany Beach the day after Mom's funeral just to shake off some of the gloom. That trip was incredible. Uncle Ray, Cousin Mark and his new bride Laurel went along to make the day so much more special. Dad loved the smell of the ocean and visiting our old house on 2nd Street. Mom, Bob and I called it home during the Summers Dad was working on Rt. 1 and rebuilding the jetties at Bethany. The woman living there even invited Dad in so he could stand in the place he called home for three wonderful years. We spent several hours in Bethany, had coffee on the boardwalk, then shaved ice, and bought carmel corn... Chad couldn't go with us that day so we bought him some too....

Bethany became our Summer vacation spot. We didn't go to "The Shore" or vacation in some far-off place, we went to Bethany. That day became even more special when we stopped at Rehoboth which was always a tradition with us. On our weekend trips to Bethany, Dad would ease the transition between fun and the return to Newport by spending a few hours in Rehoboth to enjoy the sounds and lights of the boardwalk. On this trip, Uncle Ray pushed Dad who was riding in his wheel chair while Mark, Laurel and I followed behind. We couldn't keep up with them because Ray was running pushing Dad out ahead. Well... this was quite a spectacle as you might imagine. A 90-year old running up and down the boardwalk pushing an 83-year old in a wheelchair.

As the sun dropped over the bay, the lights on the boardwalk became brighter and the carnival atmosphere (and Ray!) lifted Dad's spirits. Heading South on the boardwalk, we began to hear music - Big Band music. Well it was the Tim Laushey Orchestra playing in the new bandshell so we wheeled Dad into a good spot and watched the show. There were these two bouncing children dancing to the music -- Connor and Cameron. Amy was there so we spent the rest of the night watching and listening. After the show, I wheeled Dad up the ramp to see Tim before leaving for home. Tim immediately introduced Dad to Elliot, the clarinet player who was also a prisoner during the war. He and Dad struck up a conversation and discovered that they were POWs in the same prison camp. The stories flew back and forth. They both enjoyed the chance to exchange experiences with someone who "was there".

=============

Dad had many names. To us he was simply "Dad". Mom called him "Dave" because his military buddies called him Dave on V-J night, the night they met. "Dave" also worked for the neighbors from Pleasant Hills who were influenced by Mom. Most of his family from Ohio called him "Lec" but some still called him "Lester". Everyone from the construction companies called him "Frank" as did the folks from his days on the school board and scouting -- and it was always Mr. Davis from the scouts. Grandchildren called him Grandpa. Michelle shortened it later to "Gramps". Then there were the occasional adopted grandchildren... Scotty, Brian and Tommy, and a few others that called him "Silver Dollar Dave". Dad was big on giving Christmas gifts of unusual currency. First it was the big silver dollars. He gave them instead of paper money because he knew that few of them would be spent. When the silver dollars became hard to find, he switched to two dollar bills, then to Sacajawea gold dollars, then to packs of ones. Last Christmas, it was dollar coins. And every year, the packaging had to be interesting too. Tall olive jars, little gold baskets, or fancy gift boxes. Gifts from Dad were creative inside and out. There had to be something special wrapped in something special. Dad always made life interesting at every turn and he did it for everyone who's lives he touched.

==========

From time to time, the family would grow a little. There was the "Jerry" era when Jerry Smuzynski, who was the same age as Bob, would deliver papers early in the morning. After his paper route, he would come to the house and join us for breakfast before heading off to school.

Darrell was another addition. He was like a little brother to us and Dad would spend hours with him.

Michelle lived with Mom and Dad for a time, then Brian took a turn.

Tim also spent a few weeks at the house and got to know Mom and Dad as family. Amy and Kiersten grew up with Mom and Dad in their lives because I was always 'over there'.

Mom and Dad adopted Chad as a son and grandson all at the same time. Chad's favorite photo says it all. When Chad went to the University of North Carolina, I remember Dad sitting in his corner chair writing letters to Chad on cash register paper... yards of it! He would roll the paper back up and send it to Chad in a box.

Lisa came into their lives and it was a special relationship from the start. Christmas meant sitting in the sleigh, the reindeer and the glowing inside tree. She has her own Christmas Stocking that is her favorite part of Christmas morning.

==========

Dad had no real vices except working long hours. Dad never smoked although Mom did until the early 60s. I can remember the tin ashtrays with the beanbag bottoms sitting around the house -- but there were no ashes lying around... or dust either. The house was always clean. Mom promised to quit if Bob and I promised to never start smoking. I guess we agreed to the promise but smoking was never appealing to either of us so that was an easy win! Mom quit cold-turkey and never smoked again. Dad always made a point of saying how proud he was of her for quitting and sticking to it.

Dad never drank except for a beer once in a while. Miller High Life was his beer when he did have one. It was bitter to me... never liked it. He never drank hard liquor that I can remember. The closest he got was his "Slush" at Christmas time. He was rather famous for his frozen whiskey sours making two or three big batches at every Christmas. Dad would make at least one batch for me to take home every year. When I'd be up late at night working on some computer problem, I'd get my slush container out of the freezer and wake everyone up shaving the ice into a glass with a big metal spoon. In all the years that Dad made his whiskey sours, he never wrote down his recipe. Wayne Raile is the only person we know of to have had it. So I can't wait for Wayne to perfect it. Christmas time would be the perfect time to do taste tests !

==========

Dad was about getting the job done -- no matter what. After we built the house in Middletown, Maryellen, Lisa and I were away, it was one of our longer trips over two weekends... Yellowstone I think. I had asked Dad to mow the lawn with the riding mower. It was a fairly easy job with the rider and he had a key to the house so I didn't think the request to be too difficult to pull off. When we arrived home, the lawn was mowed and all seemed well. We called to let Mom and Dad know we had arrived home safely and Dad mentioned that he couldn't get the key to the garage to work. So I asked how he got the riding lawn mower out of the garage. He said he didn't use the rider. After the key wouldn't work, he drove home, got his own push-mower, lifted it into the trunk of the '86 Chevy, drove back to Middletown and use it to mow the 3/4 acre lawn. Dad always seemed to have a plan "B".

In 1961, the family moved into the 'homestead' after only six years on Tennessee Avenue. Of course, this was an exciting time for all of us but especially for Dad. The new house was full of possibilities. He was upset that the foundation was dug square to MacArthur Drive rather than angled toward the intersection. Dad wanted room to add a garage to the side of the house later when the family finances had improved. But the builder set the house so that there was no room for the garage. Not giving in, he turned sure disappointment into some quick wheeling and dealing. Dad was able to negotiate the garage behind the house instead of alongside like all the other homes, a connecting roof and concrete floor, and the circular driveway. From that new configuration came the breezeway that he was so proud of, and the handmade patio with concrete circles and a wall made of pink and white quartz. He made sure his boys were involved helping him mix concrete and giving us each our own circle with hand and footprints captured in 1965.


===========

In October last year, Dad's struggles became more intense when he had severe pain between his shoulder blades. Whatever the cause of the pain, he was in the right place -- the Christiana ER. He experienced ventricular fibrillation.. an uneven heartbeat that leads to immediate unconsciousness. Bob and I were there with him and we called out for help. Within seconds, there were over 20 people crowded around the bed working on Dad. Two minutes of manual CPR with no results, they resorted to the defib paddles. That did it. He was back and fighting to get off the bed to go home. He was sedated and sent to the ICU where he stayed for three days -- including the breathing tubes. Towards the end of this ordeal, I remember Dad trying to communicate with the tubes down his throat. He was becoming frustrated because he couldn't speak to me even though I was only inches away. I suppose my face showed my helplessness. He saw that I was getting upset and he did an amazing thing --- he settled down, smiled as best he could and gave me a wink to say that everything would be okay.

He did the very same thing last Sunday night.

==============

Building, creating, teaching... That has to be his legacy. Building not only four lane highways, countless neighborhood roads, parking lots, quartz walls and concrete patios, but creating men from boys. He did it with his sons and grandchildren and he did it for countless other boys through scouting. An amazing leader, he was able to organize hundreds of people over the years to do better, do more, and take action.

His life was bigger than life.

He was a hero in every respect.

He was my Dad.

Frank L. Davis

February 9, 1923 – June 3, 2007

Frank L. “Dave” Davis, peacefully died on Sunday, June 3. He was 84.

Mr. Davis was born in Greenford, OH on February 9, 1923. He was the son of Leona Seubert and Harvey L. Davis, a clay miner, of Canfield, OH, and one of seven children. Frank is survived by the youngest and the eldest, his sister, Wilda Weaver (75) of Evansville, IN, and brother, Raymond Davis (90) of Syracuse, NY.

Mr. Davis lived a simple, yet extraordinary life. As a young man, he skillfully earned money for the family by trapping pelts for Sears & Roebuck and delivering the Grit newspaper. He graduated from Canfield High School in 1940 and was employed by the Erie Railroad as a plumber’s helper before enlisting in the U.S. Army's newest unit, the airborne infantry, in November 1942.

Mr. Davis was assigned to the 502nd Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101^st Airborne Division. Injured on his third qualification jump, he was reassigned to Company "A", 506th PIR following his recuperation. On June 6, 1944 – D-Day, he jumped into Normandy in support of the Allied invasion of Europe. On September 17, he participated in Operation Market Garden parachuting into Holland near Son. On December 19th in Belgium while leading his squad to destroy a German 88 anti-aircraft battery, Staff Sgt. Davis was severely wounded. Recovered by Corpsmen and evacuated to the 101st Division Field Hospital, he was captured by German forces when the hospital was overrun in the opening hours of the Battle of the Bulge. Transported into Germany, he was held in captivity for 99 days and pressed into forced labor repairing bomb-cratered roads and recovering civilian casualties from destroyed buildings. Locked in a cattle car for eight days by retreating German forces, he was freed by a tank squadron from Patton's 3rd Army. After a brief stay in a Paris hospital, Mr. Davis returned home to be reunited with his family and a long recovery. Mr. Davis was awarded the Purple Heart with One Oak Leaf Cluster.

While a Prisoner of War, Axis Sally read Sgt. Davis' name and hometown over shortwave radio in a propaganda broadcast that was heard by amateur radio monitors here in the States. His family received dozens of comforting penny post cards telling them this news, the first news of Sgt. Davis in over four months. The generosity of these people inspired Mr. Davis to begin a research project to identify as many short wave monitors as possible. Working together throughout the 1990's, Mr. and Mrs. Davis catalogued 429 monitors who were true Homefront Heroes. This research will be finished by the family and will be gifted to a national museum.

On August 15, 1945, V-J Day, while celebrating America's victory over Japan in the streets of Cleveland, Ohio, Mr. Davis met the love of his life, Clara Gugino. It was a storybook romance that began with a fateful kiss and endured for more than 60 years. They married in Fredonia, NY on May 4, 1946. Mrs. Davis passed away in July, 2006.

Under the GI Bill, Mr. Davis attended Tri-State College in Angola, IN, served as President of the Civil Engineering Society and earned B.S. degrees in Civil Engineering and Administrative Engineering. Upon graduation, Mr. Davis and his young bride moved to Newport, DE to work for The DuPont Company at the Engineering Department's temporary facilities over the Diver Chevrolet building on Delaware Avenue in Wilmington. A year later, he opted to work outdoors, and for the next 39 years served as a civil engineer for the Henry C. Eastburn and R.A. Boyer construction companies. Mr. Davis was the sole civil engineer for the 11-mile stretch of U.S. Route 1 between Dewey and Bethany beaches as well as the Valley Forge / U.S. 202 interchange. He also led the re-building of the Bethany Beach jetties after the March 1962 "Nor'easter." In 1961, Mr. Davis was granted a U.S. patent for inventing a “Rocket to the Moon” game board.

Mr. Davis was a dedicated community leader. In 1965, he volunteered as Cub Master of Pack 88 in Newport, rebuilding the Pack from 18 boys to 81 over the next six years. Moving to Boy Scouts with his sons, and with his loving encouragement, both sons became Eagle Scouts. Noting the absence of a memorable Eagle award ceremony, Mr. Davis designed and built a 9' eagle ceremonial display and traveled throughout the Del-Mar-Va region, making Eagle award ceremonies special occasions for 101 young men. For his exceptional service to scouting, Mr. Davis was awarded the Order of the Arrow Vigil Honor and the Silver Beaver Award. Mr. Davis also served on the Krebs School Board in Newport and later as President of the Conrad Area School Board from 1968-1972. Friends in the Newport community know Mr. Davis by his handmade Christmas display of Santa's sleigh, eight reindeer and Rudolph with the blinking red nose arranged in the front yard for the last 43 years. Many children will always cherish their photos taken while sitting in the sleigh.

Mr. Davis is survived by his two sons and their families, Robert L. and Carol Davis, of Bear, DE, and their children, Christopher L. and Leslie Davis, both of Sylvania, OH, Michelle L. Davis, of Houston, and Brian C. and Anne Marie Davis, of Fallston, MD; and John M. and Maryellen Davis, and Lisa M. Rickert, of Middletown, DE, and Chadwick Boyd, of Atlanta. Mr. Davis has written of his military experiences and favorite stories for a book he calls "Caged Eagle". The family will complete this work in his memory.

Funeral services will be held on Saturday, June 9, at the DOHERTY FUNERAL HOME, 3200 Limestone Road, Wilmington, DE 19808. The family will receive visitors at 11:30 a.m., with a memorial service to follow at 12:30 p.m. Mr. and Mrs. Davis will be eternally reunited during a committal ceremony with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery on June 25 at 2 p.m.

In lieu of flowers, the family requests donations to the Del-Mar-Va Council of the Boy Scouts of America – www.delmarvacouncil.org or 801 N. Washington Street Wilmington, DE 19801-1597.

To send condolences, visit www.dohertyfh.com or call (302) 999-8277.

I thought I'd take a minute to share a document I recently received in email. It is a dramatic demonstration that shows the amount of bacteria that lives on your fingers and hands. The message is "Wash your hands often and do it right!" The topic is timely with Bird Flu steadily advancing across the globe. During a health crisis, controlling the spread of bacteria becomes a priority for entire populations.

The first two images should grab your attention. If you are still curious, open the web site hosted by the Georgia College of Agriculture and read the entire story.

The test was done by touching finger tips to an agar-filled petri dish then waiting 24 hours. The growth of bacteria is truly astonishing. The test continues by washing the fingers and hands in different ways and repeating the test.

Image 1: Unwashed fingers touching the agar material.

Image2: The resulting bacteria growth after 24 hours.

So when should you wash your hands?

• when hands are visibly soiled
• after using the washroom (includes changing diapers)
• after coughing, sneezing, or blowing your nose
• before and after eating; handling food
• after touching raw meat, poultry or fish
• after handling garbage
• after handling pets, animals, or animal waste
• after shaking hands

But what is the correct way to wash your hands? It's really easy if you follow a few simple rules.

1. get your paper towel ready before your start and keep it dry and clean
2. remove rings or jewelry
3. turn on the water and adjust it to a comfortable but warm temperature
4. rinse your hands then apply soap. one squirt from the soap dispenser is enough.
5. rub the soap onto your hands starting at the wrists and working down
6. rub it vigorously into your fingers and between them for 10 to 15 seconds
7. rinse your hands in the running water and leave it running
8. pat your hands dry with the paper towel
9. use the paper towel to turn off the fawcet so you do not contaminate your clean hands
10. but wait, don't throw the towel away just yet. Use it again to open the restroom door. Hold the door open with your foot and throw the towel away as you leave.

As with every important task, you need to practice these steps several times. Teach your children by showing them how to do it right.

Hand Sanitizer products are good too but do not rely on them exclusively. Wash your hands using soap and water when possible.

DuPont has recently introduced their RelyOn(tm) product line. It is a professional strength antiseptic solution in sprays and handwipes. RelyOn(tm) is a little difficult to find in stores but is avaliable online for about $4 for a 2oz bottle. Click here for one example.

Purell products are also popular.

Now go and wash your hands!

Sunday was a great day. Dad and I went to the Air Show and Open House at the Dover Air Force Base. We watched F-18 Super Hornets, C-5's, C-17's, P-51's, and the Air Force Thunderbirds. Pictures will be coming soon. Check out the short video clips I've uploaded on YouTube.

Watch a C-5 land.

Watch an F18 Super Hornet create a shock cone as it reaches the sound barrier.

Dad's new DART schedule is working out great. He is getting out earlier and even when the bus is late, it's not near as late as before. Traffic is better at 3:30 than at 4:00. He even gets home before Miss V arrives.

He also had his ICD checkup today and received a clean bill of health. In a few weeks, a device will be installed at home to remotely monitor the ICD so he won't need travel to have it checked. Travel was necessary today because they also wanted to check the incision and placement of the ICD under the skin. All is well.

Next week is the cardiologist appointment to check up on his heart.

Tomorrow's dialysis trip will be extended slightly. The team has ordered a test on his fistula (the attachment point for the dialysis needles) just to make sure it is not being constricted above or below the 'business' area.

Time to begin documenting the DART Paratransit service... Friday, Sept. 22, Dad waited until 4:30 at the VA before being picked up and was then driven into downtown Wilmington where the driver picked up a woman. He then drove her into Hockessin to a private home. Dad didn't get home until after 6:00 -- a 1.5 hour ride in a rattle-trap Paratransit bus after sitting in his powerchair for 1.5 hours in the VA entrance way. 4 hours sitting still for dialysis then 3 hours stuck in the powerchair.

Today, he has been waiting at the VA for 1.5 hours. His arrangement is to be picked up at 4:00 and the paratransit has a window of 30 minutes before being considered late. Tomorrow's post will document today's experience.

I called DART dispach and changed the standard pickup time to 3:30. Maybe this will help with traffic and scheduling his trips home from the Elsmere VA.

This entry is just to capture a few events over the past week that I haven't had time to post.

On Friday, September 1st, Dad felt some pressure and pain in the front of his chest just before getting into the dialysis chair. He took a nitro pill but it didn't have much effect so the nurse gave him an antacid. This helped and he began feeling better. The rest of the dialysis went as expected but the nurses were worried and called in the cardiac and kidney specialists to take a look. Dr. Agerwald, the Chief Surgeon asked that Dad be admitted overnight for observation. There was no heart problem this time. It appears to have been indigestion.

Dad stayed Friday night and was very uncomfortable in the hospital bed. He couldn't wait to get home.

I took him home Saturday morning leaving his powerchair in the dialysis area. Monday morning, I took him back in for dialysis using the black wheelchair and he reconnected with his powerchair.

Friday, he had difficulty with the DART Paratransit. The bus did not show at the prescribed time and he had to wait 3.5 hours after a long diaylsis session. Uncle Ray almost jumped into the Chevy to get him but the bus got there just in time.

Second post from Monday... Read the earlier post first, then return to this one.

Dad's emergency room episode was determined to have been a ventricular fibrillation... where the heart just vibrates and can't get back into a normal rhythm. The standard protocol in this case calls for the implanting of an ICD, or Implantable Cardioverter Defibrillator. The ICD also has a pacemaker feature so it's a combination of the two devices.

He was brought to the prep room at 12:30 where his monitor leads were switched from the portable monitor used on the 2nd floor step-down unit (a step down from the intensive care unit) to a more sophisticated monitor. Although keeping a steady 55 - 57 beats per minute, the monitor graph was rising and falling (?). (I'm not sure what this signifies but after the procedure, the graph maintained a steady horizontal line.)

At 1:00 the anesthetist discussed his role and what Dad should expect from today's procedure. Dad's only question was "When do I get to eat?" He was grumpy most of the day. He hadn't eaten or had a thing to drink since midnight Sunday and to make things worse, he was given a three hour dialysis treatment in the morning.

At 1:20, I wished him good luck and went to the waiting room and registered with the receptionist. She handed me an LED pager... it wasn't really necessary but I carried it around until the doctor appeared at 3:45. All had gone as expected. The ICD was implanted on the right side instead of the usual left side because of the dialysis port in his left arm. They wanted to stay clear of the left side so the leads into the heart are a little longer than they would like but it is not a major concern. He said there would be someone prior to discharge (later in the week) to go over detailed instructions about the care and management of the ICD.

I called Bob, Chad, Wilda and Ray to relay the news then went into the recovery room where Dad was already awake. He saw me coming from about 125 feet away and waved as if to say "All is well". He was wearing an oxygen mask and was very thirsty. He had to endure another 30 minute wait before being released to go back to his room where he ate and drank continuously for almost 90 minutes...

This is the first post to my renewed blog. Events of the past several months could have been documented easily if only I had thought to re-awaken such a useful tool.

Dad's been the family focus of late, just a few weeks following Mom's passing on July 2nd. He was complaining of a pain in the middle of his back between the shoulder blades. At his regular dialysis visit Monday, August 21st, he told the dialysis technician that he needed a nitro pill because he thought his angina was flaring up. One small pill and the pain subsided. Fast forward to the same evening -- His Bayada aid, Virgina, became worried because he had no appetite and went into the bedroom to lay down... totally out of character. Virgina called me and I stopped at the house after work.

When I arrived, Dad was lying on the bed restless. He couldn't get comfortable and didn't feel as though he could fall asleep so he got up and came out to the kitchen table. He ate a little salad and went in on the couch where he stayed until about 9:00. He said the pain had subsided and he was feeling much better. I told him to take it easy and get some sleep and I left for home.

At 2:30AM, the phone rang. It was Dad. The pain had returned and it was intense enough that he felt he should call 911.... I told him to call then I hung up and called Bob. Bob lives closer to Dad's place now and it would take me 35 minutes to get there. He managed to get to the house in about 5 minutes where he found the paramedics already had Dad loaded and were ready to take him to Christiana. He called me with the destination.

I met them at the emergency room entrance where Dad was awake and feeling fine except for the pain between his shoulder blades. He was joking with the paramedics and the admitting staff. We were escorted to ER 9 where Dad was hooked up to a small monitor with about six leads. We were there approximately 30 minutes while the nurses did basic checks and a paper work-up. At that point, only the three of us were in the room. Bob was sitting on a chair and I walked over to the counter to put down my phone and keys. Dad was extremely uncomfortable on the gurney and had tried to sit up straight with his back off of the mattress. I had moved over to the starboard side of the gurney when I glanced at Dad and saw him stiffen and begin to shudder. He stiffened his entire body and his arms went straight with his palms down. His mouth opened and his eyes rolled up and to the right and he went grey immediately. I put both hands on his face and yelled "DAD!". He went limp.

I called for help just as our nurse was coming around the corner. Her expression immediately went to a sad "oh no" look. She called for assistance and from that moment on, people just kept arriving until there was no room for me or Bob. The first male nurse to come into the room began to pound Dad's chest with his fist. One, two, three thumps but the monitor didn't change. He started chest compressions while another nurse started using a mask and air pump. They continued this for at least two minutes. Bob and I were asked to stand outside so we did. I had propped the door open about an inch with my foot so I could watch Dad. I couldn't see anything except his left ear and neck but I could tell he was in serious trouble. This was the moment that I realized I was shaking noticeably. I watched as they used the defibrillator and with a single hit, Dad's heart found its rhythm and began beating on its own. I could hear the nurses calling out various things then Dad tried to sit up or get out of the gurney. He let out several growls and loud groans pulling himself up off of the mattress. One of the nurses called his name a few times and told him to lay back down... "Mr. Davis, Mr. Davis, Don't try to get up..." As he was lying down again, someone pushed the door closed.

About that time, this huge guy came around the hallway and said we should wait in the ER waiting room. I looked at him in disbelief, shook my head and said I wasn't leaving. He didn't say another word and walked back the way he had come. A few moments later, a nurse appeared and said we could watch from the inner entrance to the trama room. We were escorted to the area just past the inside nurses station where we could see the crowd around Dad. They were winding down... moving away giving a few remaining staff more room to work but none of them were leaving. We all stayed between the small trama room and the nurses station watching the monitors. The worst was over.

For more information on Ventricular fibrillation (VF):

http://www.hrsonline.org/

http://www.hrspatients.org/patients/treatments/cardiac_defibrillators/default.asp

I don't keep personal journals so writing blog entries is not natural for me. And, I don't deal with a single subject for very long. So finding the right use of this blog will take some thought.

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