How To Bake Butternut Squash

When harvest brings in the butternut squash, it's time to fire up the oven and bake this delicious vegetable to use in pies or served as a simple, nutritious side dish.  

When the weather cools down and fall is in the air, butternut squash makes an appearance in the produce departments of Texas, the southern states, and other markets like Australia and New Zealand where it's known as butternut pumpkin.

This pumpkin-like fruit was first developed in Stow, Massachusetts, and it's wonderful when used in baking breads and pies or even as a side dish. It's a member of the Cucurbita moschata family.

My family likes butternut squash in a no-crust pie recipe that I've adapted that uses canned, frozen, or fresh-baked butternut squash. Having baked this pie for many years, I never tried it using fresh squash until recently. The difference in texture and taste is amazing.

After years of using the frozen kind of winter squash, I finally embraced my fears of strange and unusual vegetables, picked out a firm, uniform specimen at the produce department, and took it home. Then I began to search for instructions on how to prepare it. Should I peel it? Cube it? What about the seeds?

Inside an old Mirro Ware Cookbook from 1954, I found a recipe for acorn squash, which I adapted and it came out delicious. I was pleased at how easy it was to prepare even on my first attempt.

Here's the Easy Way to Prepare the Squash

1) Line a baking pan (13x9 inches) with aluminum foil. It makes cleanup easier.

2) Preheat the oven to 350°F.

3) Wash the squash to remove any debris. Use a cutting board and a sharp knife to carefully cut the stem off the squash.

4) Firmly grasp the squash and cut it in half lengthwise, starting at the bulbous end using a serrated knife. Use care. It's hard to make both sides exactly even as the vegetable is very tough when raw.

5) Just like a cantaloupe or melon, scoop out the seeds using a spoon and set them aside. These can be washed and saved for planting or baked and eaten.

6) Drop the seeds into a small bowl with a little water and the membrane will wash off and drop to the bowl bottom and the seeds will float. Spread them out to dry on a paper towel.

Spray the bottom of the pan with Pam or lightly grease with vegetable shortening.

• 2 Tablespoons of butter (melted in the microwave for 10 seconds

• Brush the cut surfaces of the squash with the butter

Mix the spices together and sprinkle onto the cut side of the squash.

• 1 Tablespoon of granulated sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/8 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1/8 teaspoon nutmeg

Put the brown sugar into the cup of the cut squash.

• 1 Tablespoon of brown sugar (optional)

Add one cup of water to the pan.

Cover the pan with aluminum foil

Make small cuts in the top for the steam to escape.

Bake at 350 degrees (f) for 45 minutes to an hour, until a fork can easily be inserted into the squash.

Once tender, use a spoon to scoop out each shell and transfer the squash into a serving dish or covered container and refrigerate the cooked squash until needed.

Fresh-cooked squash improves the texture of my butternut squash pie and adds to its holding power in the refrigerator.

Here's a recipe for crustless butternut squash pie. 

https://vespertinewriter.blogspot.com/2025/08/crustless-butternut-squash-pie-recipe.html

It's delicious topped with whipped cream or Cool Whip. Even Kids will love it.

Memories from the Fifties

This is me when we lived in Goldsborough Housing in Bayonne New Jersey. Yes, we three kids walked to and from school in the snow, uphill, both ways.

This was our brand new 1958 Oldsmobile Super 88, black with lipstick red interior. My dad was big on buying new cars even though we lived in the projects. Before we left town, he traded it in on a 1959 Rambler Station Wagon, a more practical choice for a family of five.

Most of our neighbors were Navy personnel and their dependents. Dad was stationed at the Brooklyn Naval Yard on the USS Allegheny ATA 179. We often took Sunday dinner aboard the ship served to us in the Captain's quarters. Dad was the XO or Chief Executive Officer aboard the Auxiliary Fleet Tug. I remember he would sometimes bring home a member of the crew to join us for Sunday dinner when we ate at home. Other times, we'd visit the Museum of Natural History and spend hours learning. It was free admission, which was a plus.

We went to church on Manhattan Island where Pat Boone was the song director and his wife was my brother and sister's Sunday School teacher.

Even though I was only 6, 7 and 8 years old when we lived there, I hold these memories close to my heart.

Like when we started at a new school after living in four states during my first year. They tried to set us all back a year because we came in from schools in the south, like Key West, Florida, Valdosta, GA, and Charleston, South Carolina. 

Dad donned his Naval Officer's Dress Whites and made a trip to the Principal's office to protest. They relented and put us on probation until we could prove that we could keep up with the work. My first grade teacher there was the sister of my second grade teacher, Mrs. Cassell. She was the absolute best. I wish I could go back and thank her for her kindness and acceptance of me.

There was a little candy store right across from Horace Mann Elementary where we spent our allowance on Red Hots, licorice or salted pumpkin seeds. They also had a good selection of orange wax lips and vampire teeth. My mother sometimes came and took me to lunch at a nearby diner where we ate hamburgers. There was no cafeteria at the school so mostly, we carried our lunch in our tin lunchboxes with a Thermos of milk.

My dog Trixie used to know what time we were expected home from school. When it was time, she would sit on the window ledge and watch for us to walk up the sidewalk.

The project bully lived in the apartment above us. There was a snowball throwing incident with Bruce at the intersection where the school grounds began. We retaliated by lobbing some snowballs back at him. All of us were taken to the Principal's office where we were given detention.

Dad was furious that we didn't show up at home at the expected time. He later told us he was proud that we defended ourselves. We were released from custody under his supervision.

There were lots of good times there: Trick or Treating in the housing complex; having a snow day when a six foot snow drift blocked our building; practicing air raid drills walking two-by-two to a shelter in the school basement. Ah, good times.

And when Dad got new orders, we packed up our station wagon and waved goodbye to our belongings in the moving van, and drove the 1426 miles back to Key West for another tour of duty.

We lived in Navy housing there, too, a place called Sigsbee Park. And when we started school at Sigsbee Elementary, we were already ahead of the game having learned cursive writing, the times tables, and how to memorize passages like Psalm 100.

Then, we moved again, locally this time, into a two-story house on Flagler Avenue which became our family's ongoing project as a fixer upper. For 18 months, Dad was stationed in the Mediterranean and we didn't see him during that time. When he returned, we remodeled the upstairs bathroom, repainted the living room (Mom had us paint it Flamingo Pink during his absence), and built a 6 foot cement block wall around the back yard.

From our frequent moves, we learned how to adapt to change, how to make new friends and how to say goodbye to people we vowed to stay in contact with. Time passed and those connections drifted away like sand on a beach but their memories linger on.

The September Song - These Precious Days

It seems as if 1983 was just the other day. But it's been 42 years. That seems impossible.

In 1983, I was living on a 300-acre horse ranch, working during the day as secretary to the President of three companies.

My small cottage was located nearest the main road on the long and winding gravel driveway. Delivery people stopped to inquire if my boss, at the big house, was in and accepting visitors. The hand-me-down furniture in the cottage was huge, having come from the house on the hill after they remodeled. The king-size bed took up nearly all the floor space in the tiny bedroom. But the little house was comfortable and just the right size for me.

There were horses in the pasture behind the cottage and I witnessed the early morning birth of a foal, my first such experience. The horses would come right up to the fence hoping for a handful of the greener grass from my side or a fresh carrot with green leaves.

It was quiet, eerily silent at night with only the sound of owls and crickets singing in the dark. Away from the city, the stars seemed brighter, the sky clearer, the air fresher.

We had an office in town. From the third-floor window I could watch the busy traffic on LBJ Freeway aka 635. I'd show up at eight before the family employees who came in around ten. That gave me a couple of hours of peace and quiet in the elegant surroundings.

I sometimes miss driving into town at the rush-hour and finding a good parking place under a shade tree on those blistering Texas summer days.

After I left that job, they relocated the business to a busier, even taller building right off the High 5 intersection on Central Expressway, a nightmare to navigate. The building has changed hands many times since then, each proclaiming their corporate names high at the top of the black glass structure.

So much water under the bridge since those days. There've been many career changes. A college degree finally completed. Holding a corporate management role in a multi-billion dollar global company. Now, retirement. Ah, sweet retirement.

The memories of the past have had time to soften and mellow and the bad times seem less harsh with time. I'm content, now, to live my slower-paced, homebody life at home with my wonderful husband and precious dogs.

The September Song - Ella Fitzgerald

I don't miss those days as much as I miss the energy and productivity that goes with being young. With each passing birthday, I see less time ahead than behind. And I'm grateful for the things I experienced along the way to getting old.

The Pub: A Murd*r Mystery by Peggy Cole © Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The manager of a fancy restaurant suddenly disappears. When paychecks start bouncing, the new bookkeeper falls under suspicion. Her new manager creates havoc in an already unstable workplace as Joe battles to save her job.

Joe watched dawn break over the channel. On the dock, a fisherman readied his boat for the day's work. She longed to spend the day on the water with the wind in her hair. It had been weeks since her boss, The Pub's owner, took her out on his boat. She wondered how things could have turned around so quickly.

There were only two cars in the parking lot. "Leftovers," she mumbled. These belonged to customers who'd found a ride home with someone they met at the lounge. She'd learned the hard way not to leave her car there overnight.

Once in the door, she was engulfed in an odor of stale beer and cigarette smoke. She followed the stains on the carpet to the service kiosk and made a pot of coffee. In the kitchen, she caught an image of herself in the door of the walk-in cooler. Sunken eyes, messy hair, wrinkled outfit, she looked far different than she had a few months ago.

"Home sweet home," she said and tossed her purse into a drawer. It was the late seventies. There were no computers to calculate balances. She'd learned to use an old Pegboard System with carbon copies of checks for records. She studied the entries on the bank register until her eyes blurred and her thoughts drifted.

Why did I take this job in the first place?

It had been fun at first. She loved counting stacks of cash and balancing the registers. Another benefit was the free daily meal. Eating at a fancy restaurant wasn't something she could do on her salary from the bank.

Her new boss, Dick, one of the owners liked to say, "There's no such thing as a free lunch."  He'd said it again yesterday.

"Yeah, I know." She rolled her eyes.

Another thing, he often said. "Always have a Plan B." Right now she was wishing for a "Plan B."

The job had become nothing but trouble. Paychecks were bouncing and she was being blamed.

When she'd first started the job, she and Dick would drive up the coast to check out the competition. At least, that was what he said. He wrote it off as a business expense. The truth was, he liked to be seen with pretty women who would drive him home while he nodded off in a stupor.

Joe knew that other girls on staff shared the same favors. Joe didn't mind. It was her best chance to drive a fast, fancy sports car.

He'd tell her to let him out a couple of blocks away from his house.

"The night is perfect for a walk," he'd say. But Joe knew the real reason. He wanted to stay out of site of the condo he shared with his wife and his mother-in-law.

"Just take the car home with you," he'd say. "You can drive it to work in the morning." She only fell for that one time. Repercussion came the next morning at work.

"Looks like somebody got lucky last night," the early-shift bartender cooed when she walked in. "Saw your car in the lot." He snickered.

"What?" she sputtered. "No! I drove Dick's car to my house." Words spilled out before she could stop them. Shut up. You're making it worse. She turned her back and drew a soda from the fountain trying to hide her bright red face.

"Guess that makes you someone's pet then, doesn't it?"

Joe had spent the morning sulking in her office, thinking about her old job at the bank.

Working at the brand new bank hadn't been all that bad. It was furnished with huge oak desks, marble counters and decorative lighting. Sadly, the fancy furnishings didn't spill over into the employees' salaries. Despite that, there was a waiting list to work there. Eight-to-five jobs were hard to find in the small town.

The day she realized she was going nowhere there was the day they promoted the security guard to head teller. He had no teller experience. He was just a man and the owner liked to favor men employees. She griped about it like the others but she was the only one that looked for a way out.

Scouring the want ads on her break she read, One weekend off a month? Hours 5 pm until midnight? They've got to be kidding. Most of the ads were for hotels, bars or restaurants. In the tourist driven town, hospitality workers seemed to drift in and out like the tide. Joe wasn't like that. She wanted a job with stability.

She thought she'd found that at The Pub.

Snapping back to reality, she ran the numbers again trying to explain the overdraft. She needed to prove herself; remove any doubt about her bookkeeping abilities.

Trying to raise some funds, she started making calls to customers with past-due house accounts. Not something she liked doing. She wondered why the management let people run up tabs into the thousands of dollars. Even Dick's tab was overdue. She put his file aside and moved to the next one. Maybe she could bring in enough to cover the payroll this week and hopefully, next week's liquor order.

She searched the office again trying to find the old bank statements. They weren't there despite her constant reminders to Bob, the general manager.

"I need those," she'd told him two days earlier. He'd blown her off. She pushed harder. "What if Ervin shows up? The last time he was here that's the first thing he wanted to see." Bringing up the CPA from hell turned Bob's face into a dark angry mask.

"If he shows up, tell him to ask me," he shouted, spit flying. Tomato juice and vodka sloshed out of his glass as he teetered under the low ceiling.

"Like I said, I balanced them myself while you were wasting time on some other worthless crap."

That was a new one, even for the master of insults.

"You don't need them to do your job," he screamed, storming out of the office. Through the closed door he yelled, "I need that staff schedule I told you to get done. Work on something useful for a change."

That was the last time she'd seen Bob.

She wondered if Bob's infatuation with Doreen had anything to do with the state of the books. Flings among the staff were common as hangovers and as quickly forgotten. This one was different. Bob fell hard for Doreen and she took advantage of it. The waitstaff grumbled that she got the choice shifts and better table assignments, although, no one dared mention it to him. That subject was strictly off limits.

Lately, Joe sensed trouble between Bob and Doreen. That would explain his foul mood over the past few weeks when he’d show up barking orders and scowling more than usual.

Two hours flew by as she poured over the books. She ran the numbers again and came up with the same balance. She heard the clatter of pans and dishes in the kitchen just beyond her door. Staff was showing up for work. Her eyes were bleary when the office door opened and Dick stood in the doorway. She could tell from his expression that something was up. He never came in this early.

“Bob’s gone,” he said eyeing the tangle of adding machine tapes snaking across the desk. Joe took the pencil stub she was chewing out of her mouth. It left a black smear on her lip.

“What do you mean gone?” 

“He’s disappeared.” He formed his hands like a bird in flight.

“How do you figure?” She smirked, thinking he was trying out one of his corny accounting jokes. She waited for the punch line, but his expression remained grim. He stepped inside and lowered his bulk to the bench across from her.

“I drove by Bob's place on my way to breakfast. He always parks in the same spot but his car’s not there. When he didn’t answer the door, I peeked in. The place looked empty. Nothing but furniture. You know his place looks like a train wreck - clothes draped over chairs, dirty dishes everywhere, even during staff meetings.”

Once a month, the employees met at Bob’s for a breakfast meeting. It was usually on a Sunday when they didn't serve lunch. Then everyone went for an outing on Dick’s boat.

“The room looks like it did before he moved in," he went on, "and the car not in its usual spot. Looks like he split."

Bob rarely drove his own car to the restaurant. That gave him an excuse to drive Dick’s fancy car to the bank for the daily deposit. He liked to brag that walking kept him in peak shape. Joe had to admit, for a man in his fifties, he was lean and muscular not paunchy like some. She looked at Dick's bulging belly.

“Maybe he’s with Doreen,” Joe said, instantly regretting it. Everyone knew about Bob’s obsession with Doreen. Maybe not everyone. She doubted that Dick knew. He was oblivious to most of the drama at The Pub.

His eyes lingered on her pencil-stained lips. She knew his affection for her ran deeper than he cared to admit. But she could tell. She always could tell that about men. For as long as she could remember. The way he stared at her with a dreamily when he thought she wasn’t looking. It was nothing new. She turned heads. Over the years, she’d become used to getting double takes from strangers. Beauty was a mixed blessing with its own set of hazards.

They sat quietly in the wake of news about Bob. Joe knew she’d get a new boss. Even worse, Ervin, the other partner, would be flying in to scrutinize the books and Joe in particular. His knack for making people miserable was clear during his last visit.

Beyond his tactless interrogation of the staff, he tended to stare at Joe with such intensity that it made her queasy. She never knew which of his cold, black eyes to look at.

"In a thriving restaurant with packed lounges, how is it impossible we're losing money?" he screamed at Dick. "This is a black hole where my money disappears!”

Ervin had the financial means to keep the Pub open. That gave him a sizeable amount of power. But with the current state of the books, she wasn’t sure if either partner would put more money into the restaurant. If not, The Pub would fold and put everyone's job on the line.

Dick broke the silence.

“I’ve asked Chip to take on the management duties until we can hire someone.”

“Oh?” She was unable to hide her disappointment. The assistant manager wouldn’t be her first choice when it came to replacing Bob. Although he acted friendly, something dark lurked beneath the surface of the muscle-bound bouncer. She knew if Dick already talked to Chip, the rest of the staff probably knew about Bob, too. Getting the news second-hand stung worse than Chip as Bob’s replacement.

Dick reached across the table and patted her shoulder, then, shuffled out. The gloom of the space closed in around her. Muffled voices filtered in through the thin walls. She could hear Dick telling the day cook to spread the word about a staff meeting before lunch. Reactions varied. One loud voice said, “That’s just great,” then, the grumbling went quiet.

“Staff meeting at eleven,” Denny announced in the dining room where two waitresses folded cloth napkins. They stopped and glared as he moved down the hall. Doreen slammed silverware onto a linen triangle and rolled up the edges. Her companion glanced at her across the table.

“They probably just came up with some more rules,” she said, “as if we need any more.” Doreen nodded and they resumed their task.

Denny’s voice carried as he moved into the lounge. He told servers with their pitchers of iced tea and condiments about the meeting.

At precisely eleven, a restless crowd shuffled around in the breakroom. Typical of a small town, rumors spread at the speed of sound in the restaurant. By the time Dick came in, many already knew what was coming. The room drew silent as they waited for him to make the official announcement.

“Bob is no longer with us,” he began. For a few of the late comers, the news took them by surprise. Doreen’s reaction was the most surprising.

“Why that scoundrel!” she said loud enough for anyone nearby to overhear. Heads swiveled toward the back of the room and there was muffled laughter. She stood a few feet away from Chewy who glanced at her with compassion mixed with a glimmer of hope. Months earlier, he’d tried to win her heart with boxed chocolates and bouquets of flowers he’d sent to her home address. With the stage set, he’d finally dredged up the courage to ask her out.

“How about a movie?” he’d asked.

“You and me?” Her eyebrows shot up toward her hairline.

“Sure,” he told her. “Death Wish is on at the drive in. It’s got Charles Bronson.”

“Not in this lifetime,” she’d answered with disdain walking away her nose in the air. Her rejections weren’t just for Chewy. Her cold indifference applied to every male who’d shown interest. That was, until Bob came along with his distinguished good looks and trim physique.

“Looks like the Ice Queen has finally melted,” one of the bus boys had said when news about the manager and the waitress spread.

While Dick droned on about Chip being in charge for the moment and his plans to advertise for a new manager, Chewy used the time to focus on Doreen.

Bob may have won her over for a while, but now, she’ll warm up to me. With Bob out of the picture, I have a better chance. He decided to make her jealous using Joe as bait. Chewy smiled at the thought. Jealousy will tip the scales in my favor.

Doreen seethed in a quiet rage. She knew more about Bob’s absence than anyone. He’s no different from the rest, she brooded, a scowl pasted on her face. He used me! The words screamed in her head blocking out Dick's voice. All she could think about was her new plan of action.

She frowned thinking about Bob's betrayal. While the others listened to Dick's ramblings, she worked on the details of her revenge.

They’ll be sorry they messed with me. They’ll all be sorry.

By that point, her anger overflowed one single target. It grew to include her coworkers. Suddenly her scowl changed to a smile.

“That’ll do it for now,” Dick said drawing the meeting to a close. Any questions or opinions about missing managers and missing cash went unanswered while they got ready for the waiting lunch crowd.

But those who'd survived other recent management changes knew uncertainty was headed their way.

Available on Amazon The Pub: A Murder Mystery

© Peggy Cole 2012

All rights are reserved. No part of this story may be copied or transmitted in any form without written permission from the author.

This story is fiction. Names, characters, businesses, and locations are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to persons, events or locales is coincidental.

How To Find Military Service Records for Veterans

Did you know that you can use online tools to gather information for official military records? All you need is some information about your relative to find fascinating details from their service records.

Lt. B. Moore, USN, 1958 

When Dad would talk of his time in the Navy, he would captivate the room with his adventures and narrow escapes. I took notes, but there are gaps that I can no longer fill in with a quick phone call. I wish I'd asked more questions while I still had the opportunity. He's gone now, but not forgotten. Rest in peace, Dad.

During the 24 years my dad spent in the service, the names of ships changed as often as the names of the bases where he was stationed. Brooklyn Naval Yard, Key West Naval Station, Charleston Naval Shipyard in South Carolina and Naval Station Norfolk, VA were ports where he served within just a few years.

Finding out the names of the ships on which he served was something I waited too late to ask. But there is a way to get the official records that would answer my questions, and it was surprisingly simple.

He served as a Plank Owner aboard the USS Rich, a Gearing Class Destroyer. A "plank owner" is an individual who was a member of the crew of a ship when that ship was placed in commission. 

Filling in the gaps as I reconstruct the timeline of my father's military service assignments was definitely easier with help from the Naval Archives. Below you'll find what is required for requesting records for your own veteran.

Who Can Request Records?

If you are a veteran or a deceased veteran's next of kin, you can request records through the National Personnel Records Center. There's no charge for this service, and it's straightforward whether by mail, fax, or online.

The next of kin can be any of the following:

• A surviving spouse that has not remarried
• Father
• Mother
• Son
• Daughter
• Sister
• Brother

What Will You Need For Proof of Your Kinship?

Information needed to request the Official Military Personnel Files (OMPF) includes the following:

• The veteran's complete name used while in service
• Service number
• Social security number
• Branch of service
• Dates of service
• Date and place of birth (especially if the service number is not known).
• If you suspect your records may have been involved in the 1973 fire, also include:
• • Place of discharge
  • Last unit of assignment
  • Place of entry into the service, if known.
• All requests must be signed and dated by the veteran or next-of-kin.
• If you are the next of kin of a deceased veteran, you must provide proof of death of the veteran such as a copy of death certificate, letter from funeral home, or published obituary.

What is a Standard Form 180?

Personnel records and Service Treatment Records (STR) of military service members who retired, were discharged or died in service over the past sixty-two years are available to the next of kin of the veteran.

When the Standard Form 180 is submitted to the appropriate agency, depending on the branch of service, it requires only a minimal amount of information to complete the form, including the exact name the veteran used during service, their social security number, date and place of birth, branch of service and date entered and released from military service.

The form asks if this veteran is deceased and, if so, the date, and if the person retired from military service. They offer a checklist of items that may be requested, such as a form DD214 (which is the military discharge "Report of Separation from the Armed Forces of the United States"), an important form useful when filing for military benefits and other business.

The requester can ask for All Documents in the Official Military Personnel File (OMPF), Medical Records including Service Treatment Records (outpatient), inpatient and dental records.

The form does ask your purpose in obtaining these records. Although the answer to this is voluntary, it may result in a "faster reply" when answered. When I submitted my Form 180, I listed my interest in writing a chronology for the veteran's descendants and for publication of stories related to military interest.

Your signature is required on the form along with any proof of death, such as a death certificate, and the relationship you have to the military service person, for example, next of kin. In my case, it was as the daughter. I didn't have a copy of the death certificate but they accepted the obituary from the newspaper along with the funeral card showing the birth date and date deceased of the veteran.

After making a copy of my request, I mailed it off on March 7, eager for the return of my packet. I called to follow up on the request on March 25th and spoke with an efficient, well-informed staff member who found my request quickly and let me know they were "working on it" pending copies of certain documents. He said I could expect to receive something by the middle of April.

Living in military housing, most of our childhood friends were other Navy kids both at school and in the neighborhood. We moved often as the duty stations changed about every 2 years.

Our military ID cards gave us access to the Commissary for groceries, the base exchange (BX) for supplies, and the base theater where for 10 cents we could see the latest movies and spend our Saturday mornings. We enjoyed countless hours swimming at the Officer's pool on base. We took classes for self-defense in Judo and Jiu Jitsu and competed in tournaments against other students.

The Navy was our world and it was a good life.

The manila envelope marked Official Business came from the National Personnel Records Center in St. Louis, arriving in remarkable time just thirty days after my request was mailed. It included a list of decorations, medals, badges, commendations and campaign ribbons that he was awarded.

There were records indicating his pay scale, ports of duty, dates he took leave and even the service training he completed. Copies of his enlistment papers listed classes he took in high school and which sports he played written in his own hand. I'm still discovering interesting facts about my father's military service from the documents I received.

If you're a historian or just fascinated with the details of your parent's military service, requesting this information about your veteran is the way to get started. Follow the link to the National Personnel Records Center to begin your quest.

I wish you all the best in your search to find out more about your family history.

Veteran Personnel Records at the National Archives

The Host, by Stephenie Meyer - Book Review

What if an alien invasion is the reason for the political and social unrest? Author Stephenie Meyer provides a scenario of possibilities that may reveal the current media trend of disinformation.

The story, written by the best-selling author of the Twilight series, begins with the transformation of a female professor who begins to question her existence and her occupational choice.

She's inexplicably drawn to the desert in search of something she can't quite explain. Against the rules of the new societal norms, she takes off on a quest to explain the strange images that flood  into her dreams. When the images invade her mind during her wakened state, she can't resist the urge to explore their roots.

In the new norm, television has changed dramatically, along with sports, the news, and human interactions. Cooperation is the norm, with helping others being the primary objective. Football has lost its competitive edge with players finishing the game with hugs and handshakes for their opponents. Both teams receive a trophy. Violence is replaced with kindness and complacency. The news contains only feel-good stories of people, world leaders, and celebrities acting charitably. Murder and crime is at an all-time low.

These changes would seem ideal if it weren't the results of an alien invasion.

Everything You Do - Bryan Adams

Look into their eyes, and it's easy to tell. One quick beam of a flashlight will reveal them. The transformation of humans from their natural state of combat readiness—fight or flight responsiveness—has morphed into dormant, non-violent, docile and helpful citizens ready to assist their brothers and sisters with any need.

What's wrong with this picture? The reason for the abrupt changes in the way things have always been can be explained by an alien invasion. These tiny creatures who take over the mind of their host are a peaceful lot.

In this case, the alien beings are tiny enough to live within their victim's body undetected. There is one easy giveaway to their existence: Around the inner iris of their captive's eyes, a shining iridescent presence can be detected, along with a scar at the point of insertion at the back of the neck. The invaders use skilled surgeons who operate under the influence of implanted beings to conduct the procedure, placing the worm-like alien creature along the spine. Once there, it extends thousands of microscopic tentacles into the bodies of their host to control all aspects of their subject.

Attempts to remove the beings result in the unfortunate death of its captive host, although experiments to remove the invaders are ongoing. One such surgeon, a member of the resistance, suffers the emotional consequences of these questionable operations which challenge his Hippocratic oath and his own conscience. He struggles with the pressure to rid the population of this invader, yet, is torn by the results he experiences by doing so.

The main character, an alien known as Wanda, short for wanderer, is a complex being who has hosted on at least nine planets during her lengthy lifetime. Living out the lives of the species who reside in each of these worlds, she has taken their memories along for the long journey to Earth. Traveling in a cyber freezer while en route to the next ill-fated planet, her kind will occupy the homes and the minds of their inhabitants. She is among those destined to set up the new world for total invasion.

The trouble starts when the lingering memories of the human in which she is implanted begins to invade her own consciousness. The love her host body, formerly known as Melanie, continues to feel for not only her brother but also for her former mate and lover, Jared, drives Wanda into the desert on a journey from which she will not return.

Out in the middle of nowhere, a colony of humans has escaped detection and have begun a commune of cooperative efforts within a series of caves. With incredible ingenuity, they have created underground gardens, a kitchen with ovens heated by the natural elements, sleeping quarters and even hot baths for their residents.

Wanda is forced to join their community, first as a prisoner, and later as a contributing member who teaches classes about her species, captivating the youthful audience with her stories of life on other planets. As her inner voice grows louder, she is convinced that her human occupant of the body where she now resides, is still actively hanging on to her former life.

The character, Wanda, is befriended by some of the cave-dwellers and suffers abuse at the hand of others. Her persistence and optimism under pressure is as admirable as her submissive and passive behavior at the hands of her captors is degrading and offensive.

Those who are not fond of Wanda resent her acceptance by the founder of the safe place where they live. One heavy-handed abuser catches the woman alone in the hot springs and tries to drown her in the pool. Her response to his attack draws varied reactions from the collective who hold a trial to determine the outcome of the incident.

A complicated psychological thriller, this story evokes emotions of the reader who can compare the alien invasion situation to present-day prejudice, oppression, and fear of those who are unlike us. It draws the reader into a web of entanglement between both humans and aliens, demonstrating a familiar pattern of violence and resistance to change.

Along with the introspective, the story presents a realm of medical issues concerning right to life and modern medicine practices. The innovative nature of the alien race brings with it a variety of cures, medicines, and practices that, on the surface, pulls one in favor of their presence. Their restrictive and lackluster lives, on the other hand, makes one pull for the tenacity and resilience of their conquered hosts.

A captivating read, Ms. Meyer's book takes us into a world of what-ifs. It explores the depth of human interaction and the residual effects of love for others, whether borne of passion or familial ties. It demonstrates the differences in families and siblings, husbands, wives, lovers, and the ever-present curiosity of children whose acceptance of the unexplained is inspiring.

Love, hate, passion, survival, revolution, innovation, and a story that draws the reader in from the beginning is the basis for the success of this book, which has since been made into a movie. This book is one I've read more than once and turn to for tawdry escapism and entertainment.

Though she's the author of the Twilight series, a blockbuster story about vampires, this venture into the science fiction realm is by far Stephenie Meyer's best work.

Gift Ideas for Seniors and Nursing Home Residents

Choosing a gift for a nursing home resident can seem difficult, but these ideas are sure to please your loved one.

If you ask your senior what they want for a birthday or holiday, they'll likely tell you they have everything they need. But do they? 

What your loved one wants most is you spending time with them. Whether you're sharing a meal or clipping their nails, your presence reassures them that they are valued.

If you're not able to visit for whatever reason, consider these gifts that my family members appreciated when they lived in a skilled nursing home. 

Many facilities offer a guest meal for visitors. Sitting and sharing over a meal is true quality time. If guest meals aren't available where your relative lives, you can always bring a bag lunch or a takeout meal. Ask your senior what they might like from their favorite place.

These are some of the top 10 requested gifts:

1. Cotton socks, slippers, sweat suits, and clothing that's easy to get on and off. Avoid zippers and buttons that might be hard to unfasten.
2. Homemade cakes, cookies, candy, individual puddings, Ensure or Boost, sugar-free food items or fast-food favorites like milkshakes.
3. Gift certificates for the hair salon at the facility. Clean hair lifts the spirit.
4. Audio and video recordings of their favorite songs, movies, and TV shows.
5. Large print books, adult coloring books, or audio books.
6. Colored pencils, paint-by-number kits, yarn and craft supplies.
7. Office supplies like small tablets and ballpoint pens.
8. Board games like Scrabble, dominoes, jigsaw puzzles and crossword puzzle books.
9. Nail clippers and emery boards.
10. Bird feeders and seed to refill them.

Limited funds? Here are some cost free activities that you can do.

• Offer to comb or style your senior's hair.
• Give a hand or foot massage.
• Trim your senior's fingernails.
• Write a letter on their behalf. Stamp, address, and mail the letter.
• Read them a story.
• Sing their favorite song.
• Play a game together like Dominoes or card games. Work a puzzle together.
• Attend an activities session with the group.
• Join in on the stretching exercises.

Edible gifts like homemade cookies, cakes, candy, and pies are things that most residents enjoy getting. If your senior is on a restricted diet, you can customize your holiday baking to include sugar-free gifts.

If you're not a seasoned baker, choose other edible gifts like individual pudding cups, packages of peaches or pears, crackers with peanut butter or cheese, juice boxes, or wrapped candies that are easy to open.

Another welcome activity at any skilled nursing facility is the music from volunteers who perform for the residents. Sometimes they like to sing along, wave their arms, clap to the music,  nod their heads, or even get up and dance.

Personal care Items are often requested. Keep in mind that some people have allergies, so choose softly scented cologne, air fresheners, moisturizers, hand lotion, and disposable hand wipes.

Remember that caps and lids may be difficult to open. As my mother grot older, packaging became more difficult for her to manage. Items with pump dispensers or easy to open containers are a good choice.

You might need to open the box of tissues and start the first one out of the box. Tasks that are simple to youthful hands can become a nightmare for a senior who struggles with arthritis.

Hair Salon Gift Certificates

Most nursing home residents would enjoy a little pampering. A beauty salon certificate for services by the on-site cosmetologist is a blessing. Or, you can ask to use the beauty shop and give your senior a nice shampoo and gentle scalp massage. If neither of those options is available, arrange to take your loved one to a salon nearby.

Something to Keep their Mind Active

What do seniors do with their time? Many seniors enjoy looking outside. My 95-year-old aunt likes watching the birds that come and go outside her window. A bird identification book helps her know which kind of birds land on the feeder. Volunteers will usually refill the bird feeder as long as we provide the seed. 

Visiting Pets Associations

One of the best ways to provide comfort and a touch of home is to invite the Visiting Dog's Association to visit your family members. It is amazing to watch the expressions of joy when seniors make contact with a well-trained, friendly canine. Some groups bring horses to meet the residents.

Make sure to find out which residents are allergic to animals and make arrangements for medication or for them to be in another area of the building.

Volunteer to Serve As A Patient Advocate

Most facilities allow and encourage family members to attend resident wellness conferences. At these meetings, family members and patients discuss medication issues and the care your loved one is receiving. It can also bring out issues that may need attention either from the staff or from family members.

Your presence helps your loved one advocate for themselves and gives them confidence to speak out that otherwise might be lacking.

Gifts For All Occasions

It doesn't have to be a special occasion to bring a gift to your favorite senior. Whether it is a purchased present or a gift of your time and effort, your loved one will treasure these small tokens of your affection.