Dayton Disasters...and Near Disasters

Through the years, I have blogged about the Dayton Hamvention--the largest convention for amateur radio in the US and possibly the world. It is a Friday/Saturday/Sunday event. I have attended annually since 1997, and in the last ten years or so, I have been going on Thursday night in order to set up a booth for The Salvation Army Team Emergency Radio Network (SATERN), and have planned and moderated SATERN's forum at that event for years. Just lucky, I guess! It is a time for buying radio treasures and supplies, having fellowship with new folks, and renewing friendships with people we haven't seen since the last Hamvention. It's always fun, and usually exhausting. This year had a few potential challenges.

Thursday afternoon, I was to meet up with Majors Pat and Carmella McPherson on the east side of Indy for the rest of the trek to Dayton. (Pat is the founder of SATERN, which is probably the largest faith-based organization of its kind in the world. I happened to be in the right place on the radio at the right time years ago, and ended up being Indiana's SATERN Coordinator--and close personal friends with Pat and his wife, Carmella.) We had established a meeting place and time--Wendy's on Post Road on the east side, at 2:00 PM. I even emailed them a Google Earth map of the location that my daughter had sent to me. We were good to go. I beat them there by mere minutes, but after driving up and down that section of Post Road twice, I could NOT find the Wendy's! Fortunately, we were in radio communications. While I was trying desperately to change our meeting location on the air, Pat informed me that they were on the shoulder of the re-entry ramp to I-70, awaiting my arrival. I showed up mere seconds later and we were on our way...but that should have been my first inkling that the weekend was not going to go smoothly!

The Hamvention always takes place at Hara Arena in the Dayton area, and for years, we have met up with the SATERN factions coming from various points in the country (and Canada) at the arena in order to set up the booth, then go out for dinner before heading to our respective accommodations for the night. The process has been the same for years: get our passes and credentials from the Hamvention office, set up the booth, go out to eat. It happens like clockwork without a hitch every year. Except this year. Pat and Carm and I had no sooner gone in the door nearest our booth to set up when we were stopped by a security dude asking where our booth passes were. I said, "We have to go get them from the office." So we exited the same door to do so when it dawned on me that THIS year, the passes were mailed to me at home...which is where they still were! I had gotten them in the mail weeks ago, put the package on my dresser, and seriously never thought of it again!!!!

I hustled to the office and talked to the poor fellow with whom I had earlier worked, in order to get our booth credentials and passes re-issued. He was remarkably patient, asking ME to please be patient while he tried to get things together AGAIN. (Really, Scott?? I am the one that screwed up, not you!) Okay...so while he was doing that, I hustled to the Forum office to get the credentials for our forum speakers, some of whom overlapped with booth personnel. The fellow from Chicago who had delivered the booth materials before we arrived had had to beg and borrow to get admittance before us. I was trying to get coverage for everyone in our group for the next three days. It got tricky, but we finally managed, got the booth put up, and retired to dinner at a Chinese buffet in the area--Pat, Carmella, me, three of SATERN's folks from Canada, and two from the Chicago area. Whew!

Five of us were staying at the dormitories at the University of Dayton. The U of D isn't easy to find, and even though I have been going there for years, I'm not the best tour guide. The two guys from Canada that had a GPS in their vehicle got there before those that were following me did because I had missed an exit in the construction. Ugh! We checked into the dorm. Plastered all over the place was a warning that it would cost $100 for lost keys. We were each issued a card key and a regular door key. No problem! Unfortunately, there were no passes left to park in the dorm lot, so we had to park on the street. I made several trips down to get things. On my last trip, I started looking for my key envelope, but couldn't find it. Went back to the car to look, to no avail. Convinced that it was in some of the stuff I was carrying, I went back to the dorm and called Carmella on my cell phone to ask for someone to come down to let me in. Got back up to the room. No keys anywhere! Back to the car (borrowing Carm's dorm keys)...and FOUND mine in the crack between the seat and the door. Thank you, Jesus!

The only bad thing that happened the rest of that night was that the dorm beds were horribly uncomfortable. I had brought a small TV which we hooked up in the living area of our dorm suite for entertainment. In my bedroom, there was only the fan that I brought to provide "white noise" and some moving air. No computer. No TV. Nothing to read. Hmmmm... I started my prayers thinking how nice it was that I could talk to God without interruptions, and I started to get sleepy...but then BANG! I couldn't get comfortable and the only sleep I got was just dozing. What a way to start a busy weekend!

Friday morning, I rode with Pat and Carm to the arena in good time. We had stopped at McD's for breakfast, then drove on in. No problems. One of our forum speakers was a lady from India who had an escort from Dayton named Bill who was providing her transportation. That morning, he was sitting at our booth, resting (although I had no clue who he was at the time). I looked over at him at one point and noticed that he was sweating profusely, and the wife of one of our Canadian guys was tending to him. She alerted me that he was having trouble and needed medical attention, so Carmella went to ask for paramedics. I gave him some clean napkins to wipe his forehead. I said, "Do you want water?"...wondering if a cold, wet napkin for his forehead would be better...and he said YES. It was clear that he didn't care about a wet napkin. He wanted my bottle of water to drink. I had already been drinking from it. When I told him that, he said he didn't care and would buy me another! A rep from the Hamvention showed up at our booth to determine the problem, at which time Bill informed them that he has a severe case of Miniere's Disease and just needed to get out in the air and rest some, and would be fine in a couple of hours. When the paramedics showed up with a gurney, Bill told them he could NOT lie down. They took him out on the gurney sitting up. His wife was called to come and get him. He went home, slept for a few hours after his spell, and was back the next day, thanking us for our help, and looking a WHOLE lot better!!

You know what I love about this story? Five of the people who were manning our booth are ordained ministers, plus me (a retired teacher). No one panicked. The whole issue was treated with dignity, as if it happens all the time. Pastors are trained to be supportive without intervening, and I was so proud that Bill got the attention that he needed without embarrassment. I've seen it at my own church, when a choir member fainted and was removed to the narthex with dignity by a couple of choir men. Our female pastor quietly went out to stay with her and the "show went on" without a single hitch. I loved the peace of it all!

Along about 2:00 in the afternoon, Pat and Carmella and I went to catch some lunch. I had a piece of pizza and and ice cream bar. So did Pat and Carm. The difference between them and me was that my belly blew up like a balloon shortly thereafter. I was having some abdominal cramping, and my ability to stand and walk was compromised. I also had some nausea. When our group finally left for supper at Outback Steak House, I told the others to go in without me. There was no way I could eat. All I wanted to do was lie down and sleep in the car. That didn't happen, but at least I didn't have to feel bad in front of everyone. I threw up once into a plastic bag, with no results, but then wondered what I was going to do if diarrhea hit. (I know...too much information. Still, we've all been there!) I am sorry that I missed a great meal, but at least I wasn't responsible for shutting everything down. We got back to the dorm (after missing the exit again). By that time, I was beginning to feel better. Figures! Didn't sleep well, again.

Saturday, I felt okay. All of my concerns about maybe having to leave the SATERN forum up to those who weren't sick dissipated. My belly still hurt, but mostly from being displaced from the day before...not from cramping. I did the best I could to take it easy. The forum went well, I thought. We had four speakers: one from Canada, one from Chicago, one about a CW (Morse Code) net, and one from India. We managed to stay within our time limits and had about 50 attendees (which is average for our forums). I didn't feel good, but I wasn't SICK sick.

At one point, one of my radio buddies from home (Harold) showed up at our booth and informed us that a "water line" had broken in the flea market and that restrooms in the arena were being shut down due to flooding. I found out a bit later that it wasn't a water line, but a sewer line...and before we knew it, ALL of the inside restrooms (except one set) were closed. (There were still porta-potties out in the flea market, ripening in the sun.) There were probably 20,000 at the Hamvention at the time, and suddenly there were lines in front of the one men's room...and the women's restroom had been converted to unisex. Considering my problem if the day before, I just worried about what would happen if my belly let loose. Thank God, it didn't!!!! The sewer problem was resolved mere minutes before everything shut down for the day. Whew!

Just before we left for the day, another member of my home club showed up at our booth and motioned for Harold to step out. I could tell by the look on his face that something serious was happening. As it turned out, Harold's wife had been in a car accident at home. A phone call or two later, it was determined that she was probably okay, although shaken. I assured the guys that if Harold decided to go home, there was transportation back to Indiana and space in our dorm rooms to take care of everyone. Harold and wife Joann are good friends of mine. He stayed at Dayton at the advice of his children. I'm just glad that the ONLY loss they had was the vehicle!!

At least three times over the weekend, I thought I had forgotten my purse somewhere, only to find out that Carmella had my back. I guess years of taking care of Patrick has taught her to take up the slack. Thank God for that! Everyone needs a Carmella in his/her life! (Of course, that doesn't do a thing for Carm, but I told her on the radio on the way home today that I need to hire her to follow me around.) Carmie is a diamond in the rough! I love her!

Sunday morning, we got to the arena after checking out of the dorms. I hadn't slept well, but felt better, still. When I left for Dayton, I had NOTHING on my shopping list...but two events happened that required shopping: my watch battery gave up the ghost, and I managed to drop my HT radio which broke the alkaline battery pack. What better place for both of those to happen! My "elmer" told me he had the required watch batteries at home, so I shouldn't worry about that, and I ordered a new battery pack through a company who has a shop within eyesight of my daughter's apartment in California. Aside from miscellaneous food/drink purchases, I spent a whopping $35-something at Dayton!! We took down the booth around 1:00 PM and all of us headed homeward in delightful weather (until we got near Indy). To make a long story short, it was a busy and exhausting and rewarding weekend. SATERN paid for my lodging and most of my meals. I don't know if that will ever happen again, but I am most grateful!

My son-in-law is on the ground in Chicago as I type...for a job interview. My daughter is still suffering from some viral infection. I am still recovering from my belly problem...but I have some afterglow--fueled by exhaustion--from the Dayton weekend. I am blessed to have so many friends in amateur radio!

Oh...the final "absent-minded-professor" deal for me is that somewhere in the eastern part of Indiana, I realized that I had left my fan in the dorm room at the U of D. Oops! I had gone through every stinkin' room in the suite to make sure no one had left anything behind, but since the fan was in a cubicle and not in plain sight, I missed it! What to do? Nothing! Fans are cheap enough. I'll get another. It just upsets me that I'm so doggone forgetful!!

I'm pooped and will post more later as the spirit moves me. G'night all!

Hmmm...

Where is my last post about good decisions?
I'm beginning to wonder about this venue. I was going to post a good decision that I had left out of the last post, but since the last post isn't there, it doesn't make sense!

Love ya!

Good Decisions

Every once in awhile, we are called upon to make decisions that will have far-reaching consequences, only we don't know it at the time. I've made plenty of bad decisions in my lifetime. LOTS of decisions that, if I had them to do over, I would have gone in another direction. But every once in awhile, I've made good ones that only showed up as good ones later. Here are a couple of them:

When my daughter was in early high school, she started a telephone/computer relationship with a young man. I didn't care for the kid because he sounded shady, but I hadn't even met him yet, so I reserved judgment. Then Megan happened to mention that he was African-American. Oops! In that moment, I knew I was in trouble. If I expressed my dislike for the kid, she could accuse me of being racist and get a defensive mindset that would push her closer to him. (Hey...I know my daughter!) Mentally, I took a deep breath and decided that I would put my money where my mouth was. I had raised her to be colorblind, so I needed to step back and let things be. I decided to keep my mouth shut. I even took the two of them for an afternoon in quaint Nashville, Indiana. It worked! That relationship didn't last more than two weeks, and the young man went on to do serious jail time for stealing (and using) credit cards...and who knows what else? His being African-American had nothing to do with my disapproval of him because I didn't even know that when I had made my initial evaluation, but it sure made things sticky. In the end, I had made the right decision to zip my lip!

Back when Hurricane Katrina devastated the South, the SATERN radio organization (part of The Salvation Army's disaster response) had a net up on HF radio in order to get information in and out of the affected area--not the least of which was New Orleans. This was a national network. I volunteered to take over for an hour of controlling the net. Since my name and phone number had been published in the Indianapolis Star as a contact person for Health and Welfare (people looking for information about friends and relatives), the local media showed up on my doorstep for some TV coverage out of my crowded little radio shack! I got a phone call from a man with the Indianapolis Colts. It seems that Colts' quarterback Peyton Manning is from New Orleans, and the caller was hoping that SATERN could determine if Mr. Manning's property was under water. Wow! I was so excited about the prospect of getting that information for a national figure! I was prepared to put it out on the net for someone to determine the status of the property. Then I began to think about it. Peyton Manning wasn't asking about the property; a representative of the Colts was. The situation in New Orleans was critical. We were dealing in human lives. IF I had put it out on the net that someone wanted to know if millionaire Manning's property was safe, it would make Manning sound like an insensitive fool--and it would make ME look like an idiot. So many people's lives were at stake, and we were worried about a piece of property? Not a good idea! I called the fellow back and explained the dilemma. I told him that I appreciated his concern for Mr. Manning and wished I could help, but that I thought it would be "bad press" for all of us if I even made an attempt to get the information he sought. He agreed. As it turned out, Mr. Manning's property was high and dry, but I saved us all the potential embarrassment of having the radio world think Indianapolis consisted of a bunch of dolts. Good for me!

I'm sure I have made other good decisions, but they elude me now. Wish I had made so many that I am overwhelmed with fodder for the blog!

Doing the Dayton Dance

I have been going to the Dayton (Ohio) Hamvention (for amateur radio) since 1997 when I first became a ham operator. It is the granddaddy of all hamfests--maybe in the whole world. And it happens in the middle of May.

When I was just a regular ol' radio operator, the Hamvention was fun. I went with my local club guys, and we had a good time. Then, I became Indiana's SATERN Coordinator (Salvation Army Team Emergency Radio Network), and with another operator out of Ohio, we set up a booth at the 'vention...then a forum...and things blossomed from there. The Ohio operator eventually dropped out, and I ended up coordinating the whole SATERN at Dayton experience...and it gets tricky! For three years, another fellow took it off my hands, but he asked for this year off, so I took it again. Ugh!

What irritates me about the whole thing is that I KNOW when the Hamvention is. You'd think there would be no last-minute crunch, right?? When I was still teaching, I was under horrific pressure. Since I took the Dayton Friday and Monday off, I had to prepare lesson plans, then have my car packed so I could depart for Dayton right after school on Thursday and get to the venue before they closed in order to set up the booth. (In those days, Dayton was on EDT, but Indiana never changed to Daylight Time, so OH was an hour later there than here. Now, Indiana also does Daylight Time, so it isn't as bad.) Setting up the booth, connecting with others that were coming for SATERN, picking up credentials for everyone, finding the University of Dayton dorms for lodging, figuring out who was going to get parking passes, etc...getting there in time for the Hamvention to open on Friday, and making sure the booth is manned while everyone gets to enjoy the rest of the flea market and vendors, etc....is stressful! But you know what is the most stressful (as well as the most preventable)? Every year, it is a toss-up whether or not my SATERN uniform shirt will fit! It's iffy, and I'm never comfortable knowing how bad I must look if I've gained weight...and this year, I have!

So, tomorrow is crunch time. I have written to all of the forum speakers, sent dormitory addresses to the people staying with us, put in for our booth space and forum speakers. I have arranged for my lawn to be mowed tomorrow, and will do laundry and pack. I take a television and some SATERN/Salvation Army CDs. Some literature. A radio and lapel microphone. Extra batteries. A luggage cart to move stuff with. Clothes, makeup, medicine.... (Oh! Medicine! I discovered that two of my prescriptions have run out and now have to call the doctor's office in order to make sure that refill orders are sent in. Remind me to do that tomorrow, will ya?) I will be taking some stuff to Staples to run off copies. Let's see...what other steps does the Dayton Dance require???

I will return on Sunday absolutely pooped and just wanting peace and solitude. I hope the weather cooperates with us. Although our booth is inside, the Dayton experience is often weather-driven. When it's raining outside, the hamfesters come inside, and we become shoulder-to-shoulder with folks that may or may not have showered! You get the picture...

To paraphrase a poem, "If winter comes, can Dayton be far behind?"

You Had to Be There

It is human to want to share an experience with others by telling them about how it was, but try as we might, it doesn't come across. It is difficult to find the words to express the thrill of the event--the feel of it--and all the listener can do is appreciate what the teller is trying to say. The story frequently ends with "I guess you just had to be there..."

Part of the problem is that words don't work when trying to describe feelings. The younger generation has devalued some words like "awesome" and "amazing" by using them as superlatives for things that are relatively un-awesome or un-amazing. Another part of the problem, of course, is that we are trying to tell our stories to people who lack the experience itself and/or don't have the same feelings that WE have under the same circumstances. How am I supposed to explain why I get goosebumps and tears over a live performance of the National Anthem??? You just have to be there.

I was at a meeting at church last week during which the committee was discussing how we could bring the church experience to folks who are now "shut in". Our pastor's sermons are put on the Internet each week, but I can attest to the fact that simply hearing the message is NOT the same as being in the sanctuary during the worship experience. All things work together, and being there is a huge part of it.

You can watch the Indianapolis 500 on television faithfully every year, but until you have actually been at the Speedway (in good seats) and experienced the whole morning, first-hand, you have no idea about the thrill of the traditions. There was the year that the crowd in my section was cheering wildly as the cars came around--not for the lead car, but for the hapless squirrel that was trying to make his way across the track. (He made it that time, but failed on another.) Then there was the time that Gordon Johncock's car ran out of gas right in front of us on the beginning of what would have been his winning last lap. Or the time that the crowd, waiting for the track to be dry enough to start the race, started a "wave" in the stands. (Then-track-announcer Tom Carnegie announced that it was the first ever one-lap wave!) There was the time that I was watching Rick Mears in the pit, then could see smoke as he jumped out of his car and started slapping at himself, on fire from a fuel spill. The bright colors; the announcement to start the engines and watching the crew members scramble off the track while the cars start to move, scuffing their tires with zig-zag moves; the balloons going up at the end of Jim Nabor's rendition of Back Home Again in Indiana; the invocation at the end of which, the priest would pronounce "Go with God" in the languages of the countries represented by the drivers; the jet Missing Man flyover; the playing of TAPS in honor of Memorial Day. Oh, the glory of it all! (I'm crying as I write this. Why???) You have to be there to understand.

Other experiences that defy description:

* The Blue Angels C-130 jet assisted take off. Saw that once. Here is a whale of a plane that doesn't look like it could possibly even get off the ground. It starts off slowly on a short runway, then the jets fire and that sucker makes a big noise and heads straight up at a 45-degree angle with a whoosh that takes your breath away. My jaw dropped wide open in disbelief! I got big goosebumps over that deal.

*Seeing the B-2 Stealth Bomber fly overhead. Now, THAT doesn't happen every day! I was in Megan and Nathan's back yard in Muncie, IN, a few years ago when I heard a LOUD engine overhead. There was an air show in town. I looked up in time to see the B-2 Stealth Bomber, looking very much like a black stingray, flying over the yard. I yelled for Nathan (and the whole neighborhood, I fear), "The bomber! The bomber! Hurry!" Little Ryan was just a toddler and came through the door but was so started by the tremendous roar that he took a step backward into his father who swooped him up to come out to see the tail end of the plane as it flew out of sight. Wow!

*A space shuttle launch. Here is one that I have never seen up close and personal, but I experienced a movie of one at the IMAX theater at Kennedy Space Center once, and I got such a thrill from that. I can only imagine what it would feel like to be there. The Endeavor was launched this morning. I'm sorry--a televised launch simply can't do justice to the real thing, I'm sure. Wish I could have seen that in person.

*Drag races. A television spectator can't comprehend the noise volume or smells at those events. Mere foam earplugs will not protect the ears. The only time I ever went to the drag races in Indy, I wore noise-canceling headphones that my sister and bro-in-law supplied, but that wouldn't cancel the concusson of those roaring engines from hitting me in the chest! Each time a dragster or funny car headed down the track, all of the alarms of the cars parked in the parking lot were set off. And I swear it took several days to get the smell of nitro fuel out of my nose!

*A live performance of The Hallelujah Chorus. I know it inside out and backwards, having sung it many times in high school. Actually, ANY live performance of musicians singing and playing their hearts out will thrill me--like the one that took place at my church last night. It was a free concert, put on by our very gifted Director of Music and a cast of thousands. (Okay...not thousands. Just dozens.) Broadway show tunes! My favorites! I don't expect other people to get the same excitement out of those sorts of things because they do not share my love of performing and musical theater. I've given up trying to share those events except with people whom I know will get it...

I'm even running out of words to describe the descriptions of these events. Trust me: you just have to be there!

Doing Things with My Eyes

A little background here. My mother was a homemaker and Navy wife. Every house I lived in during my entire childhood was a rental (except one that my parents built in Danville, IL, which was only ours for a year or two before we were sent to a new station in Japan). We never stayed anywhere long enough for mother to even think about decorating the places...and even if she did, we didn't own the house for her to be able to paint or remodel. Getting a single piece of new furniture was a big deal and always done piecemeal. Mom would ask Dad if she could get a new chair. He'd say, "Whatever you want, Mommy." And being a good steward of the family funds, she would get a new chair...but it never matched anything else nor fit any grand design of interior decoration. I dearly loved my mother, but her taste was all in her mouth! She learned how to "make do" because that is all her generation knew.

Here is an example of that. When I was in second grade, Mom bought a couch and matching chair. She told me then that I needed to take care of that furniture because someday I would be entertaining my boyfriends on it. Huh? Surely, she was joking! Nope...she wasn't. The furniture was upholstered in a nylon looped pile that wore like iron but was dark green and ugly as sin. Sure enough, even after several moves, we still sat on that furniture when I was a teenager. It was still going strong. Mom finally decided she was tired of it. She tried her hand at reupholstering the chair in a gold damask-like cloth, but it was such a tedious job that she despaired of attempting the couch. She had read somewhere that one could paint fabric for a new look, so that's what she did. She painted the couch brown WITH LATEX PAINT. Of course, when the paint dried, the couch with the looped pile was stiff as a board, and scratchy. It would put runners in a pair of nylon stockings at the slightest contact. Did Mom dispose of the couch? Nope! She just put a brown throw over it and kept on using it. Whew!

Okay...so with that, I wanted better when I became a homemaker. I wasn't a champagne-taste woman. Definitely NOT high-maintenance. But I did want things to flow. I looked at a lot of magazines and clipped a bunch of redecorating articles. (Some of which, I JUST threw out this winter--from the 70s!) I didn't have much money, and I learned to "make do" like my mom, but I had a teeny bit of artistic flair...so I would sit in a room and redecorate it with my eyes. This should go over there. That should be lower on the wall. The focus of this room is all wrong. Let's do this... I confess that I even do it in other people's houses. It isn't criticism of their tastes; just learning about mine.

Redecorating with my eyes has evolved into doing work with my eyes as I age. It gets more difficult to do things, so I look at tasks and imagine them done. For instance, the hose in my back yard needs to be coiled and put out of the way. I've done that with my eyes many times. Eventually, I will actually do it! The Patio Project (still ongoing) is another deal. How many years have I looked at the mess and imagined it gone? Well...I'm actually digging in now. There is a sheet back there that I had to make into a floor game for a class that I took many years ago. It is now a sheet that is used to haul autumn leaves from the back yard to the curb. I need to shake it out, fold it up, and store it in the minibarn...and I have...with my eyes. I'll get to it, eventually.

My grandmother, who was confined to a wheelchair the last 15 years of her life, could command what we planted in the garden just by nature of the respect that the rest of the family had for her. Wish I had that kind of power! I keep looking at things and moving them with my eyes. Telekinesis doesn't work for me, but if what is in my heart and eyes could control what goes on around me, I'd sure be happy!

So Close...Yet So Far

One of the things I always said I was going to do on summer "vacation" was clean out the garage. Whenever I mentioned it, one of my radio friends would say, "Peggy, how long have I known you? You are ALWAYS saying you will clean out the garage!" He was right, of course. Cleaning the garage to make it into a garage rather than a junk storage area was almost unreachable! Then my daughter and grandchildren moved in, and we remodeled the garage into a bedroom/radio shack for me, and re-did the other bedrooms so Megan and the children could each have a room of their own. Everything that was in the garage back then got dumped on my covered patio. Now--how many years later?--I am still trying to find places for all the "treasures" that were plunked there. Now, my friend could say, "How long have I known you? You are always saying that you will clean up the patio!"

Truth be known, I am probably within two hours of having the patio cleaned and usable again. Two hours! What is holding me back???? I wish I knew! I just need to find places to put things. I'm so upset that there are things that people might want, but I have no way to know that. In time, I will probably just pitch what is without a place to be, but I'm not happy about that. Oh well!

My grandchildren and their custodial parents will be here over Memorial Day weekend. Guess I need to clean the house, eh?

Summer Anticipation

Oh, the deliciousness of the month of May!
As a kid, I couldn't wait for summer vacation to come. It was like Christmas--much anticipated but slow to get here! As a young kid, I learned that the absence of school meant the presence of time to play, play, play. I spent most of my summer days barefoot. I only had to take a bath when I was dirty (which was most every day), and baths occurred at bedtime so as not to get the bedsheets dirty from my rusty feet. (My mother said I was allergic to soap and often threatened to scrub me with lye. I didn't have a clue what that meant!)

Summer meant freedom. We played outside in those days. I was allowed to play until dark, mostly without supervision. (Unheard of now!) As long as Mom knew where I was, things were okay. Summer visits to my grandparents' farm were the best--wandering the pastures, playing cowboys and Indians, catching lightning bugs, collecting "pretty rocks", going to the public pool in Danville, IL, with my friend Susie, making houses for snails and playing in a vacant lot just a few doors down from our house on Orange Avenue in Coronado, California, where Dad was stationed. I remember feeling tough when I picked up a piece of glass in my bare foot, pulled it out, and kept on moving. (Can't you hear the groans of the germophobes now?) I also remember taking a corner too fast on my bike, sliding on the gravel on my side, and creating an abrasion that ran the entire length of my leg, from hip to ankle. I sure remember the bath that night. It stung!!

As a teenager, I spent at least one week per summer in Wisconsin at the house of my sweetheart and his family. We hiked, took picnics, collected agates, water skiied, swam, watched mindless movies, and had a great time preparing for the 4-H fair. The trips to Wisconsin were my own private little Heaven-haven. I was allowed to travel the 500 miles on my own--train from Chicago to Eau Claire, then bus from Eau Claire to Rice Lake. Such adventures!

As an adult, I became a teacher. I used to laugh at my students who "couldn't wait" to graduate and be out of school forever. I mused that I had been in school, as student AND teacher, since I was 5-years-old! I guess students think that teachers don't look forward to summer vacation. Au contraire! There are, of course, lots of things to do to get records completed and classrooms ready for the summer maintenance onslaught, but May has a different feel to it. The days are longer. I could come home at the end of the day with warm temps and daylight to anticipate what it would be like in the few countdown days to FREEDOM! I had about ten weeks to clean, paint...take care of things that I normally couldn't do. The anticipation was half of the enjoyment. I would, of course, always have a longer to-do list than I could possibly accomplish, and there were some disappointing days of lethargy due to the absence of stress, but I couldn't wait!

I'm retired now. Every day is the same as the last, but I STILL feel the anticipation and excitement. Race weekend! End of school! Return of good weather and sunshine! God's in His Heaven; all's right with the world!

Hmmm...

What to say tonight?

I spent much of the day doing "radio work". Spent the morning writing the minutes to the last meeting (a month ago), drove to Monrovia, IN, to help out with our ONE student in the radio club at my previous school, then went to Danville, IN, this evening, for my county's radio club meeting. I am up late now because I spent the last couple of hours writing an email to a club member about what to do for Field Day food offerings. I have been the provider of FD food for our club for a lot of years...but this year, I will be in CA for Field Day. I have to relinquish control! There is a part of me that thinks they will replace me if I am gone one year. Another part of me almost wishes they would!

Mother's Day was nice. Megan sent me a delightful bouquet of posies in a wonderfully delicate vase...and a cute card that was totally appropriate to our history. So very neat! I went to church, then went over to visit Grandma Judy who is still in the early stages of post-surgery for knee replacement. Thereafter, Megan connected me--and Grandma Judy--with our grandchildren by phone. It was special! It would have been better if everyone could have connected in person, but I have accepted this as a nice touch for lack of the real thing.

It's very late, and I need to hit the sack. Just thought I should post something because people get upset if I don't!

Nightie!

Thy Will Be Done...

Have you ever wanted something to happen so badly that you prayed and prayed for it, only to have it NOT happen the way you wanted...and then, after the fact, discovered that everything worked out for the best, in spite of you?

I'm a praying person. I believe in the power of prayer and the power of positive energy. As a child, I prayed constantly, and good things happened to me. I was convinced that good things happened because I was close to God and He made the good things happen for me. (I was too young to realize that many of those good things happened because I was raised in a generation where children were protected from the bad things by their families.)

It wasn't until I became an adult and had to start making my own decisions in life that I came to understand it's sometimes pretty tough to decide what road to take. There were times when I flat-out didn't know what to pray for anymore, and since I was a flawed mortal, thinking I could be in control of my own life by praying because somewhat illogical. I did pray, but I finally had to say, "Thy will be done...whatever that is."

When my beloved grandmother neared the end of her life on earth, I was desperate. I wanted her to live forever, just for me! Yet, she was desperately ill. She had been wheelchair-bound for the last 15 years. She was diabetic...so much so that her right foot had become gangrenous. She had pernicious anemia that would cause her to go into a coma until blood transfusions would bring her around again. And she wasn't going to get any better. She had lost a lot of weight and hardly looked like herself anymore. There was a hollow, lost look in her eyes. She was ready to go--tired of the fight. She was in her 80s and I was in my 20s. Still, I prayed and prayed for her to live. Then, one day, the light came on over my head. My grandmother was in critical condition and would never recover. Why did I wish this suffering on her??? I walked around and around the block that day, having a conversation with myself and with God. "I understand, dear Lord, that I have to let her go. Please let her passing be merciful. Thy will be done." And it was. My grandmother just faded away with her husband and daughter by her side just a day or so later.

I've prayed for a lot of things in my lifetime that didn't go the way I wanted. Hey...I prayed "Thy will be done"...so it wasn't my fault, right? Obviously, God's will was different than mine! I have rolled with the punches as best I could/can and moved on.

Well, now my daughter and her husband have some decision issues. She is going nutsy in the worry process. I want to tell her to relax and pray that God's will be done, but I know her and I doubt that she would have any of that. The truth is that it is driving me nutsy, too. I don't want to be part of the worry process. I just want her to call me one day and say, "This is what we are going to do." But, I am her mother and that's just not how things happen between mothers and daughters. Especially close mothers and daughters. I can offer nothing but platitudes, and my kid is one of those who has to learn things the hard way. (She has ALWAYS resisted my platitudes and advice--even as a little girl!) So I'll do the praying for her. "This is what we THINK we want, dear God, but Thy will be done." And just in case, I'm keeping my fingers crossed!

Shania Twain

I'm not a country music fan, but I've always kind of liked Shania Twain, especially after I learned of her humble beginnings and how she put her life on hold after her parents were killed in an automobile wreck, just so she could finish raising her siblings. So today, when Oprah had Ms. Twain on her show, I watched. It seems that she was plugging her new book. (Don't they all?) It seems that the focus of her book was the turmoil she endured when her husband of 14 years was unfaithful with her best friend...

Hell, I should have written a book! I can attest to a lot of what she was describing. Except who would read it? Shania Twain is young and beautiful and famous. I am not. Still, some of our feelings were similar. Maybe someone could learn from that? Nawww....probably not. It seems that people (being mere mortals) can only learn things the hard way. They only seek comfort when they are hurting rather than seek to prevent the things that hurt.

When Shania found out about her husband's infidelity, she said she wanted details because the human brain tends to run wild, filling in the blanks with all kinds of imaginings. I wanted details, too. I didn't want the gory personal details about my ex's intimate relationship with his secretary. What I wanted were the where's and why's and when's...just to determine the TRUTH. I was doing a personal inventory. I wanted to find out how much of my thirteen-year marriage was based on the real and factual, and how much I had fabricated because my mind needed to keep things in denial. I had made many, many of my life's decisions based on what I THOUGHT was the truth. I didn't want to make future decisions based on lies...

Shania didn't get the details...and neither did I. So, I did my homework. I found out enough to know , way "beyond a reasonable doubt," that his affair was taking place and that there was no end to the length he would go to carry out his deceit. I got sneaky about getting the information I needed. He didn't like that. There were times when it actually became amusing because I caught him in so many lies. Once, he had the guts to say, "I don't know who is worse--you or me." My response was, "You win, hands down!" The moment of clarity came to me one evening, months into the whole mess, when he handed me an index card with four things listed on it that I needed to do in order to get him back. In that second, I realized that he still thought he was in control...and that too much damage had been done for me to even care if I "got him back" or not. I chuckled and handed him back the card...and that was the end for me. Lots of other interesting things happened until Megan and I actually moved out of the house in Cloverdale, but that was the instant I understood what "the rest of the story" would be.

I think my ex thought, over time, that all of the hurts would just fade away and we could be "friends". How could they fade? We never once had an honest conversation about it all. The only forgiveness I could afford was in the acknowledgment that he was/is not capable of honesty. In a sense, I feel sorry for him. I've moved on. So has Shania Twain. (So "twisted"--her word--that she married the husband of the best friend who had the affair with her spouse!)

My ex basically turned his back on everything I had always considered sacred. Two other important people in my life have done that to me over the years. One is now dead, with no resolution. The other, I still love and hope and pray for. I'm not totally sorry for the way things are. I believe we do the best we can in life with the information we have at the moment. I've always tried to live with no regrets. Some things can't be helped...

Shania Twain has, hopefully temporarily, lost her voice. (So have I. Singing used to be my passion. I can no longer bleat out anything much higher than middle C!) Still, she has a life...and so do I. My only desire, at this point, is that I'd have more of a life that I wouldn't have to be watching Opray for blog fodder!

Ding, Dong, The Witch Is Dead!

The big news today is that Navy Seals have found and killed America's Enemy #1--Osama Bin Laden. The man masterminded and funded the 9/11 attacks on America and took away our collective innocence. At the time, I declared that God needed to kill the man, and then asked Him to forgive me for my thoughts. In my feeble brain, there have been only two truly evil people in history: Adolf Hitler and Osama Bin Laden. They both came to an untimely end, well deserved.

Of course, now we will hear from the conspiracy theorists. What??? He's been buried at sea before the rest of us have proof that he's dead? It's an Obama trick because he will be up for re-election. Right! Like the president of our country doesn't know the haters are out there? I know...the Holocaust never happened. All of those bodies were just victims of disease and the crematory ovens were just the Nazi's attempt to dispose of them in a manner to help stem the contagion. And everyone knows that George W. Bush knew of the terrorist attacks on 9/11 ahead of time just to make himself look good in the aftermath, in the same way that FDR "let" the attack on Pearl Harbor happen. JFK could not have been killed by a "magic bullet"....and I just saw Elvis!

Let's just ask the boys who were in the fire fight if they were in a conspiracy to lie. I'm voting for the real thing!

Time...

When I was younger, I looked at days off as free time to accomplish things. If my then-husband was gone for a weekend, I would use the time to paint a room or do a craft with my daughter. (He didn't like clutter.) Later, spring break became defined as Time to Clean the Garage, or Dig Into Those Unfinished Projects. I always, always had too many things on the list to actually accomplish, and that became frustrating...but at least I tried.

When I retired, I did so with the notion that I would be looking after my grandchildren (who lived with me) before and after school. It didn't bother me to retire because I knew I had a valiant purpose. And then, in August of that year, there was the heart attack. I guess I underestimated the impact of of retirement and heart attack on my life. Then, the "most unkindest cut of all" came when my daughter sent her children packing to live with their father in September, then drove off into the sunset to California in December of that same year. Done deal. My entire life went swirling out of control down the sewer drain. Time became my enemy. Just getting up in the morning became an issue because days and nights were no longer defined. Why get up? Why go to bed? I never left the house. Anyone who had any demands on my time were out of luck. And if they needed something from me, they were even MORE out of luck.

Interestingly, as a working woman, I treasured a day to sleep in. I LONGED for a day to sleep in beyond 6:30 AM. I ferociously protected my weekend time, even to the point of not going to church. Now, as a retired person, sleeping in is impossible. More often than not, I am up between 4:30 and 5:30, with no explanation. And with one day blending in with another, I have no structure beyond what the calendar dictates. You'd think I'd be getting a lot done...but noooo...

There are weeks when I don't leave the house...don't clean up me or the place. No one comes here and I don't go anywhere. What is the point of a clean house? Who cares? For example, my grandchildren left a week ago after our Easter celebration. I am only just now attending to the laundry (only because I am running out of things to wear). I am painfully aware that I am wasting the last days/weeks/months of my life because there is plenty to do around here, but depression rears its ugly head. What's the purpose of it all?????

Maybe I'm just going through the Empty Nest Syndrome later than most. Or maybe I'm just slogged down by the weight of things that were given to me to deal with before I was ready. (I'm not sure I would EVER be really ready!) Still, I have always considered myself a strong person, so I keep on keepin' on. Perhaps I should just make myself lists of things I want to accomplish each day and hope that I have the strength to do them...

My grandchildren got to see their mother and stepfather this weekend, so it's all good. Those babies are all I have cared about since the day they were born!

Maybe tomorrow will be better. I'll make a list!