ST. VALENTINE'S DAY

In honor of St. Valentine, court clerks elaborately decked the halls and a courtroom of Roswell's Magistrate Court with romantic finery Friday, February 14, where many weddings took place. By mid-afternoon, they had 36 weddings scheduled, and five more couples and their entourage had arrived unannounced. The number of marriages held at this popular annual event broke all previous records. 

Various local businesses contributed gifts, including restaurant meals, to the couples.

Magistrate Judge Eugene De Los Santos presided over the weddings, doing what he clearly loved to do. "This is a time of joy," he said. "We serve the public in different ways. This is a service to the community that we truly enjoy. It's so much fun!" 

Before each ceremony began, the judge prompted each individual to explain why they were there. Some were uncertain what they were supposed to say until they finally mumbled, "I love her," and "I love him." 

"That's it!" said the judge beaming with delight, "That's what I wanted to hear!" and the bride and groom and their small audience laughed.

Judge De Los Santos congratulated every groom for picking an outstanding, beautiful bride.  Occasionally, he halted the ceremony to ask a clerk to hand tissue to a weeping bride, so she could collect herself. He wanted her eyes to be clear so she could look her groom in the eyes when she said her vows to him. If a groom stumbled over his words, the judge told him to take a deep breath, relax and do it again. Although he was gentle, warm and good-natured, Judge De Los Santos insisted that each couple fully realize the seriousness of their vows. "Your family and friends can tell you, you'll have good days and also some bad days. They may listen to you when you have problems, but they will tell you to go back home to her/him and say, "Forgive me." 

To each one, he explained the symbol of the wedding ring, an unending circle. "Forever," he said, and he asked them to explain what forever meant.

Judge Eugene De Los Santos enjoyed the day as much as the brides and grooms, and he and the clerks gave them a day to remember. 

Kevin Trombla and Sandra Shamas was one of many couples wed by Judge De Los Santos

The community was invited to attend Villa del Rey's eighth annual Chocolate Affair on Friday afternoon, February 14. The lobby of the retirement village and both dining rooms were decorated for St. Valentine's Day, and tables were laden with chocolate in every imaginative, delicious form. 

A piano player provided soft, soothing, romantic music for the appreciate gathering. It was estimated that 200 people attended, including many of the Villa del Rey residents, and they enjoyed the treats and the social atmosphere.

Chocolate cake, chocolate cheese cake, chocolate cups filled with chocolate cream: it was a chocolate lover's dream.

ALMOST AN ANGEL

by Barbara Corn Patterson

Saint Mary's Hospital was where almost everyone in my small town (Roswell) was born and died. Nuns with thick German accents and who wore long black habits did all of the work: the nursing, laundry, cooking, cleaning and gardening. They were a familiar sight any time we walked down the long halls when visiting family or friends. The hard working sisters were well respected by everyone in the community.

Years later, most of the old nuns had died or retired. A few younger ones had replaced them. By the mid-1970s, their dress was more casual and their foreign accents gone, but they were still an important part of the hospital although most of the work was now down by "outside" help. The newer sisters shared the same kind of caring ways of those of my childhood. 

I felt at home in the hospital when I went to work there as a Registered Nurse.

My nursing assignment for the 3-11 shift on surgical floor shortly before Christmas one year included caring for an elderly retired nun. I was already acquainted with Sister Mary Catherine, a frail but spirited little lady, who lived in the retirement section on the floor above. Her once straight spine was now painfully bent by arthritis and her poor hands were crippled into almost useless claws. Yet, she still always had a smile and spoke whenever we met.

"Hello. How are you today? God bless you my child," she'd say as she shuffled down our long hall while taking her nightly walks following the evening mass.

"Hello Sister," I would reply as I hurried on with my duties, rarely taking time to stop and visit with the poor old soul.

That afternoon, the outgoing white uniformed but slightly disheveled RN gave the change of shift report. She told us that Dr. Moore, the orthopedic surgeon, had worked on Sister Mary Catherine's distorted hands earlier in the day so she could continue using her badly misshapen fingers and hopefully relieve some of her pain. "The OR crew brought sister back to room 350 from surgery about an hour ago. She's been coughed, deep breathed, and her vital signs are stable," the nurse read from her long sheet of notes as she communicated important information to the oncoming crew of RNs, LPNs and aides. 

"She's had 25 mg. of Demeral and was asleep just before I left the floor," the day-nurse concluded with a sigh of relief, her long day over.

After report, I headed down the hall to check on all of the patients on my list. My first action was to check on a couple of patients who required special attention since they were not yet stable. 

I worked my way through a throng of concerned visitors in room 348 when a young male in his twenties had to have his abdominal dressing changed where it had become damp from his surgical incision. He had been admitted two nights ago with a gunshot wound and still wasn't out of the woods. All except his worried mother had to leave the room while I worked. She nodded her approval as I left.

The lady in 341-B was one of our fresh gallbladder surgeries. Her blood pressure was still a little low so I sped up the IV rate, then looked in on all the others before I went to Sister Mary Catherine's room.

I had saved her for last because she was on "reverse isolation." Everyone entering her room was required to put on a long white disposable paper gown, a head cover, surgical mask and gloves to protect the patient from a post-op surgical infection, a common practice with orthopedic patients at that time. 

Once I was garbed, I went to her bedside. Her small frame looked more frail than ever draped with the white bed covers. Her face was pale but her lips were a healthy pink. She was still sleeping off the medication but I was able to rouse her enough to get a mumble of recognition and a cough to help clear the anesthetic from her lungs. I gently turned her to her side to face the window. I could hear her deep breathing, her pulse was strong and regular and the dressings on her hands were dry. Good, no fresh bleeding. There was nothing to be alarmed about. A routine case, I reasoned.

Before I left the room, I noticed the tall east window was totally exposed. The early morning sun would awaken her and be blinding in the morning if it weren't closed tonight. The shade, along with its pull, had jumped and wound itself around at the top. I brought a chair over and carefully stepped up onto the wide sill. Both of my arms were outstretched as I reached up to pull the shade back down.

"Gabriel," a tiny weak voice behind me said.  I paused to listen with my arms still above my head. The voice grew stronger. "Gabriel, you've come at last!" There was no mistake about it. Sister Mary Catherine thought I was her guardian angel, an archangel at that, and I wasn't even a Catholic.

"Sister?" I replied as I listened carefully. What should I do? They hadn't covered THIS in nursing school. There was no way I could take away her spiritual vision that seemed, at the moment, to be the answer to her years of devotion and prayer. 

All I could bring myself to say was "God bless you, Sister," and to give brief and reverent answers to her questions of Gabriel. I said a silent prayer of my own, asking that I might do the right thing and, "Please God, forgive me." 

The old nun finally turned to her other side and was sleeping peacefully when I carefully climbed down from the window, knowing that seeing my silhouette against the light from across the room had been the reason she thought I was an angel.

The following day, Sister Mary Catherine's "miracle" was the talk of the hospital although I hadn't mentioned the incident to anyone. Everyone was talking of how she had been "blessed by an angel." 

Only I knew exactly how, and I felt blessed too.

Barbara Corn Patterson

(We received this Email a while back and it is a classic!)

The Roswell Web Magazine published an article about Ken Hudnall a few issues back because of his book, The Occult Connection. He visited Roswell in July 1997 during the city's 50th anniversary of the "Roswell Incident" that has since become an annual event.