When our kid had appendicitis the doc stated the pre-ultrasound method for diagnosing appendicitis was through abdominal palpitation.

The key indicator wasn't pain occurring when the site received pressure, but pain occurring when the pressure was removed. Push down -nothing. Remove the pressure -pain in spades.

Plus, appendicitis normally starts a pain in the sternum area that slowly moves toward the lower right side of the waist. Our kid complained he felt like he was being stabbed. I never did ask how he had learned what being stabbed felt like.

> his inflamed appendix gave him more buoyancy

Like a freakin' swim bladder! That tiny little thing buoyed his whole body. /s

I don't know how Roth felt, but when one of our kids had appendicitis, the pain was excruciating and left them doubled over almost constantly.

Either his appendicitis was slow-moving or the guy had amazing pain tolerance. Either way, I'd say he won that gold fair and square.

Your dad was mostly right. Most all plants native to an area are native precisely because they are capable of handling the weather patterns.

In the US, there are weather zone planting guides that help determine if a tree or shrub would thrive where you live. If you want to plant something that will live as long as what your grandma planted, they are decent references.

"Do you ever wish you could soar above the earth, taking in the view from horizon to horizon, only the wind holding you aloft?" asked the human.

"No, that sounds...unpalatable. The deep recesses of the earth call to me. The smell of cinnabar, the tang of cuprium, the ethereal glow of argentum, the vibration of corundum, the visions of quartz. It all is wondrous to explore, to discover, to share with others," the dwarve replied earnestly.

"What about you, dear elven one? You sit with us and listen much, yet you speak little of what brings you joy," said the human.

"I speak long and much, much too much among my own," the elve replied. "So much that they send me to sit with the likes of you just to shut me up."

The human and the dwarve laughed. "Tell us a little of what you say that makes them want to send you our way," the dwarve gently prodded.

"If I do, I may lose your company, too. But you have been given fair warning."

The elve sat back and seemed to peer off past the two as if something held their gaze. "I live to feel new grounds, new grasses, under my feet. I seek beautiful trees whose shape tells the story of their growth, of having been battered by storms, beaten by winds, and yet they still slowly reach for that sky that you humans wish to soar through, wish so strongly to conquer.

"I live to meet young and old, wise and foolish, strong and weak, bold and shy, arrogant and humble, and learn from them. Through each encounter, I am reminded how ignorant I am, how much there is I'll never know. But each and every one has learned something of which I am ignorant and teaches it to me.

"I return their gift by telling them something that was told to me, that they didn't know. And little by little, I spread knowledge, share the wisdom and foolishness of others... and spread a bit of foolishness of my own.

"I revel in the colors of the seasons, live to hear the storms howl from within the safety of a dwarve's cavern. I sit in the pubs where you humans gather, and listen to your loud exchanges, as the spices of the food cooking on the hearths tickle my nose, reminding me of the many places those same spices permeated the air.

"I have come to favor certain paths, even though as the years advance, less and less of the familiar faces greet me, as their younger selves grow and mature. To many I am ancient, but to the young, I am as new as the last spring they saw me.

"I have memories of places that are no more that I can only speak of around others like me. We share a common sadness that comes with the burden of seeing so much pass before us. This is why we seek to keep moving. We need to replace what is no more with what is new and wondrous, otherwise we lose ourselves in the past."

The elve stopped and sighed.

The human nodded in understanding. "So that is why the others send you away. What you speak of is familiar and yet reminds them of so much that has come and gone."

"Yes, I know the effect I have on them. They send me away, but they always call me back when the isolation threatens to intrude too much. Together we fight oblivion by laying down our memories on vellum and parchment in letters of aurum. As long as we remember and record it for others, those people and places are not lost. The paths to them are just untraceable."

"So, will you speak of me in letters of aurum?" asked the dwarve. "To know my legacy is a few lines held in memory would give me contentment."

"Only if you provide me the aurum," laughed the elve.

"I will gladly bring you enough aurum to fill sheaves and sheaves of vellum. I will bring you stealite to wipe away your mistakes, though few may they be. I will bring you the finest powdered lapis, ferrous salts, cinnabar, minium, and crystals of agates for polishing your words."

"I will gladly bring you the flight feathers of the geese to write those words, and the eggs of their hens for you to mix into those powders so the words you write can glow, if I knew I'd live on through a few lines penned by your hand," said the human.

"You both place a burden on me, but it seems you wish to ease it as best you can," laughed the elve.

"What if those lines are not complimentary? We are not known for our, as you humans say, diplomacy and you dwarves describe us as speaking few words but the most necessary ones to be heard."

"What will I care?" replied the human. "I suspect you only record what is no more, and by the time what few lines may be laid down that may relate to me, whether complimentary or fact, I will have passed onto my next adventure."

"I feel the same," the dwarve added. "What I give you freely is for you to keep alive that which cannot be held alive any other way. By the time I have become one with the earth itself, I will no longer be held foolish by my vanity."

"Oh, you are quite the vain one," teased the human. "Look at these baubles! Don't they shine! I found them!" he mimicked the dwarve.

"Oh, to see the view from the top of that mountain as the sun rises behind me, dear dwarve. Why you don't ever join me, I cannot fathom," the dwarve mimicked the human.

The elve smiled. "Both of you are why I tread this path. Sharing your meals and the long evenings together these cold days are gifts more valuable than anything you have offered me.

"You both have taught me that if any of us tried to live as another, we would not be content, but cursed."

The human raised their mug. "To the lives that fit us, that we wear like our favorite capes, that allow us to enrich ourselves."

The dwarve raised their mug to the human's. "To riches found and laid to vellum, may the words they form forever outstrip them in value."

The elve raised their mug to the human's and the dwarve's. "To the riches found in the lives of others, far outstripping the value of life itself."

The three touched their mugs together and all drank deeply. Laying their empty mugs aside, none of the three wished to break the ensuing silence as each found contentment by simply basking in the quiet companionship of the others.

My family had those elves as Christmas ornaments back in the early 1960s. They had no "you're being watched" bullshit connected with them.

The elf-on-the-shelf just used a common widely-available ornament, which in my mind, tainted it forever.

Elf-on-the-shelf isn't a "Christmas Tradtion." It is a control-freak, narcissist parenting fever-dream. There is nothing wholesome about it.

Sounds like the makings of a profitable-to-you whistleblower report to the NHTSA.

Sure they will and turn it into Wallstreet 2.0 where their cronies are the only ones allowed to steal investors blind.

I wasn't asking because I was incredulous. I was asking because the poem relates to the TIL, nothing more. For all I know, your knowledge of poets worldwide could be vast and rich.

It's entirely reasonable that one might have never heard of him or any of his works. Most of what I know of Eugene Field is due to his tenuous connection to my wife's family.

Otherwise, as far as poetry goes, I don't get very far. :p

Disney made a [Silly Symphony](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wynken,Blynken_and_Nod(film)) cartoon based on it also. This was how I first learned of the poem.

You've never heard of Wynken, Blynken, and Nod by Eugene Field?