Things that are published and things on the Internet are not always accurate and factual. I’ve had several experiences with finding misinformation taken from the Internet and published in newspapers and magazines. The information about the chickadee brain is that each year the chickadee grows a whole new set of new brain cells! And the writer says hard as it may be to believe, it’s true—a portion of the chickadee’s brain dies off each fall and is replaced by a fresh, new and larger memory bank. Somewhat akin to wiping a slate clean and starting over, the bird needs more memory in fall and winter to recall where they have hidden all those tasty morsels of seed, suet and insects parts. So the area of the chickadee brain that provides memory and a spatial sense (where hidden food is in relation to local landmarks) grows larger. She writes in late summer and autumn the chickadee busily caches food in tree bark and cavities, beneath lichen and even pushed into the ground. When winter comes they know right where to find it—the new portion of the brain carefully has mapped where each bit is hidden. She goes on to say when winter ends and food is more widely available, chickadees’ brains shrink back to normal size. In fall it’s the same thing over again—they start out wiping off the past—start a new memory bank! There is more, but due to space I repeat the main point of the article. This is truly an amazing story. Perhaps it is true. If so how was it determined everything from the past is wiped off the bird’s memory (such as landmarks)? Or is that assumed? I appreciate people sharing with me. There are some that I go to with questions on certain subjects. If they can’t answer them, they often suggest a source for the answer. My curious mind has several questions on this latest story. If and when questions on the chickadee’s brain story are answered we will pass the findings on. This is my last column for 2003. Thanks to all our readers who follow this column and those who help out with suggestions and information. It is good to hear from you.

“Registration is the process by which the U.S. Government collects names and addresses of men age 18 through 25 to use in case of a national emergency, determined by Congress and the President, which would require rapid expansion of the Armed Forces.”

It’s just a simple form that gets filled out and mailed back. All male U.S. citizens (“and immigrants, documented and undocumented”) residing in the U.S. must register if they are age 18 through 25. Men are required to register within thirty days of their 18th birthday. Once men reach their 25th birthday, they can no longer register.

If you do not sign up, there is a chance of prosecution and a fine of $250,000 and up to five years in prison. Or both. The other threats are loss of student financial aid, government employment, and U.S. citizenship.

My head and my heart know that filling out this form is no big deal. I really don’t think our government will institute the draft. It has not happened with all the recent events and from what I read, it will not happen. Besides the thoughts of war, it is disconcerting to view my son as “a man.”

I can handle that he is a “young man,” a high school senior, and this is my last year with him under my roof. He plans to go away to college next fall. Babies grow up. Moms freak out. It’s the cycle of life.

The night of September 11, 2001, I sat in bed with my mind reeling. I blubbered to my husband that my babies would be drafted and have to go to war. I rattled on about how I loved our country, and I believe in serving our country, but what does that really mean, and can’t we figure out something besides war, and if mothers were in charge there would be no war.

My sons were in elementary school at the time. My husband told me to go sleep and that by the time these boys were eighteen, this nightmare would all be behind us.

Well, fast forward to today. World events still boggle my brain. We have not figured out something besides war. The Man of the Place is not the man of my place any more, and my baby is eighteen and signing up for the draft.

Babies grow up. Moms freak out. But the freak-out does not last. I see my son for the remarkable person he is and I support him in every way. If he chooses to join the Armed Forces, I would be so proud of him. If he chooses to go to college, I will be so proud of him. If he chooses to join a trade, I will be so proud of him.