The amazing blueberry

One of my favorite summer activities is hiking. Connecticut is blessed with an impressive array of wooded parks and semi-wild public lands. Some of my favorite hiking areas are among the ‘Hanging Hills’ of Meriden, where I’ve discovered an abundance of wild blueberries. Once I learned to recognize the leaf patterns, I realized blueberry bushes were everywhere! They often grow as ‘undergrowth’, shadowed by trees, yet they thrive at the tops of mountains where the sunlight is better. I have found blueberry bushes growing up through crags in the rock – amazing to see Life making the best of every environmental niche. There are different varieties of blueberry as well. These can be distinguished based on leaf appearance, ripening time and the taste of the berries. Nature loves diversity!

The wild blueberry is more flavorful than the cultivated variety. In fact, it’s hard to ‘go back’ after having tasted that real blueberry flavor. Although the wild berries are smaller, a handful will unleash a symphony of tart juicy sweetness! Blueberries are one of the best foods to eat. In fact, a respected doctor of nutrition – Dr. Stephen Sinatra – recommends daily consumption of blueberries. This is because of the high levels of antioxidants (anthocyanins) they contain. These compounds are thought to slow the aging process and reduce some forms of cancer. Blueberries are a foundation of good health.

Wild blueberries can still be found here in the Connecticut wilderness because of the cool summer this year. You can pick your own on a hike or seek out the cultivated variety at my favorite blueberry farm - Hrubiec Farms, 421 Southington Rd, in Kensington CT. Happy picking!

RW

Doctor Sunshine

My dad always wanted to be a doctor. He grew up, the eldest of three brothers, in upstate New York. His father worked in the factories of Rochester, his mother Coletta did her best to provide. She suffered from primary biliary cirrhosis, an autoimmune disease that slowly destroys the liver. My Dad recalled that she was always sick.

Joe delivered newspapers and studied hard in school. He was driven and lucky to be gifted. He received a scholarship to St. John Fisher college. Then, he applied to Harvard Medical School and by some small miracle was accepted. Before he could graduate, Coletta passed away from liver failure. I can only imagine how awful that must have been. It fueled my dad’s passion. He would try to heal what could not be healed.

My dad was the kind of person I think of as a ‘natural doctor’. He cared about his patients beyond ‘professional’ obligations. He was like family to them. He loved them. He wasn’t afraid. Once another doctor warned him that he shouldn’t drive his patients home from the hospital – ‘You might get sued!’ he exclaimed. My dad just smiled, knowing how impossible that was.

His patients, friends and colleges came to know him as ‘Doctor Sunshine’. He always had a ready smile. Everyone was equal – everyone had a name. From the janitor on the 4th floor, to the new radiology tech, to the E.R. nurse’s mom. For almost thirty years my dad took care of people in small town Connecticut. He was their doctor. That was my dad.

Cancer took him too early. I remember I first heard the news while traveling in the Philippines. He didn’t want me to come home, but to finish my work there at San Lazaro hospital. That was typical of my dad, he always put others first.

I had hoped one day to show my dad the Philippines. There was so much work to do, so many to take care of. He would have to see it through my eyes and hear it through my stories. The Philippines was such a far away place.

For some reason, my dad never had pain during the weeks his health declined. That was another miracle. As the cancer spread, he slipped into a long sleep without suffering.

It’s hard to believe it’s been five years already since he left. I know I’ve got big shoes to fill.

RW

A miracle on the water

February 29th is a special day – not
just because it’s that extra day in February of the ‘leap’ year, but it’s also my former rowing coach’s birthday.

I remember with fondness the days when
Ken Sabbag was our Novice Men’s rowing coach at Wesleyan. I had signed up for ‘crew’ as a college freshman because anyone who was interested could join. At the time, I had little insight into what rowing was all about. Through Ken’s leadership and my experiences, I came to appreciate probably ‘the ultimate’ in team sports. Crew meant dedication and commitment, hard work and endurance, sacrifice and pain. Yet a special camaraderie was formed during those times. Friendships were forged that I still treasure almost 2 decades later. Giving your all for the team, the ‘crew’, meant something. Testing ourselves beyond anything we could have imagined or expected brought out the best in us.