I am a person of habits. These routines undergo modification to accommodate others, and, reluctantly, are made with a begrudged concession to age and health. These patterns of behavior are most evident on Fridays. This week, however, my Thursday was turned into a Friday. This wasn’t due to a confusion of days, but a concession to necessity.

Friday mornings, as with all mornings, begin with a cup of coffee. Unlike other mornings, when my attention turns to poetry and other reading material, the coffee is served with the Wellsville Sun. Though I read the paper daily, Friday morning is the Wiser day. Regular readers of my posts know that I often refer to the Sun. There was a slight modification to the paper that has me waking to Fridays on Thursdays.

Chuck Wiser is a weekly columnist for the Sun. His column is titled “Wiser’s Wramblings.” Spell check, as Chuck is all too aware, wants me to drop the “w” before the “ramblings.” The weekly column is clearly defined by him: I write the words to share what my eyes see and my heart feels. What Chuck sees is a community he loves. And, as he makes apparent, has some fun writing about. Wordplay, more accurately applying the letter “W,” which is never overdone, is a side treat of my spending a few minutes “wreading” (sorry, but I couldn’t resist) him. In many respects, as Chuck and I have acknowledged, we are mirror likenesses.

Two weeks ago, Chuck’s column appeared on Thursday. I assumed this was due to his having surgery. He fractured his ring finger (4th left-hand metacarpal) when he fell into a deep ditch while on a golf ball search excursion. “I dove face first into the side of a deep ditch, breaking my fall (literally) by extending my left arm.” Three surgical screws were implanted to attach the two halves of the bone of his ring finger. Having undergone four spinal surgeries, the reconstruction of my right leg, and both ankles, besides having a pacemaker, I could relate. There is enough metal in my body that I jokingly refer to myself as “Iron Man.” As to the golf ball jaunt, well, I will leave that to your imagination.

This week, Chuck’s column appeared once again on Thursday. “Okay,” I thought. A minor adjustment to my routine. But then my cancer combat buddy, Matilda, added to my mixing up Thursday and Friday.

Matilda and I attended graduate school together. We have been family for 37 years. She has been contending with cancer for ten years. I, like her, have had two bouts of cancer. On Fridays, we spend three hours conversing on the telephone, discussing a variety of subjects, from art and food to plants, sports, and weather. We are one another’s safe place to discuss our recovery from cancer, which is comparable to a roller coaster ride. There is no self-pity in our discussions. We uplift one another.

Those who know me are aware that I prefer face-to-face conversations rather than telephone discussions. Body language enriches the verbal exchange. I want to be able to read a person when we speak. Matilda lives in California. We are separated by 3 hours, 3,611 kilometers (2,243 miles). Fridays are our day together, though we text daily. This isn’t to say I avoid telephone conversations. My friend, Hsiau, from Asbury Theological Seminary, who now lives in Houston, and I speak once a week. I appreciate these telephone “visits” as I am a bit of a hermit in landscape due to limitations. Frankly, I do miss the personal engagements with others, though I acknowledge they are busy.

What threw me this week was that Matilda asked that we converse on Thursday rather than Friday. Between her and Chuck, my Thursday became Friday, and my Friday seems like a Saturday.

Sometimes we just have to be willing to mix our days up. Life, afterall, requires flexibility.

This coming Sunday, 29 March, is Vietnam Veterans Day. This day was established to recognize those who served in the war that cost more than 58,000 lives. More than 900 ceremonies are being held globally, many of which will take place in cemeteries. I was privileged to serve these men and women through the VA chaplaincy and to spend time with them in other capacities, including at the Marine Corps Recruit Depot San Diego. As with many of you, I lost friends in the war. Take the time to acknowledge those who served and remember those who didn’t come home.

I am including a link for you to read about a few of these men and learn about their lives during and after the war. The article is titled “On Vietnam Veterans Day, a Story of Loss, Struggle, and Hope.”

https://www.military.com/daily-news/investigations-and-features/2026/03/20/vietnam-veterans-day-story-of-loss-struggle-and-hope.html

And on that note, thank you, Chuck Wiser, for your service.

Image: Portrait of the Artist’s Father (1916)

Artist: Nicolai Fechin

Photograph: U.S. Marine Corps veterans salute during the 5th Marines Vietnam War Memorial unveiling ceremony in the Camp San Mateo Memorial Garden at Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton, California. (Rhita Daniel/U.S. Marine Corps photo).