I am working to get ready for my family to arrive at my humble abode this weekend. The grandchildren have a 3-day weekend due to Casimir Pulaski Day (it's an Illinois thing), so I look forward to having them all with me for my birthday weekend. This time, it is only "family" that is coming, so I don't have to be so worried about the dust and dirt. Still, I am alarmed at how long it takes me just to do simple things. Ugh!
For reasons known only to God, I keep this modest little home as my sanctuary. I can't afford to do the renovations it needs, and my jaded eye looks at my decor as totally dated. Still, it is all I have, and I love to entertain my family here. We get crowded, but--in my estimation, at least--are happy in our crowdedness.
My mother wasn't nearly as "crippled" as I am at her age...still, I wonder if she had the same concerns that I do. If she did, she never let on. My mother died at age 67. I am turning 66 on Saturday. Worries me a little...
Back to work here. My little house-on-a-slab needs more dusting!
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Out of the Game
More and more, it occurs to me that I am old. I think like an old person. I act like an old person. I look like an old person. I have no sparkle. No gleam in my eye about being competitive in the dating world. (Dating?? Is that supposed to be about romance? What for?) I have essentially taken myself out of the game. It bothers me a little to see other people of my age still having fun in life, while my very limited funds and failing health and looks just don't cut it.
I'm trying to change my attitude, but my "self truths" are just too convincing. Once upon a time, I offered my arm to my daughter's boyfriend's 80-something great-grandmother when we were out in slick circumstances. She rankled, "Don't put me in that category YET!" Well...okay...but here I am, just slightly past the mid-60s, and I'm in that category. I see it in the way people treat me. I feel it in my shuffling feet and wheezing lungs. It hurts me when people I haven't seen in awhile say, "How are you? You don't look so good." Or when my bro-in-law says that I'm fat (I am) or that I can no longer participate in things I see my contemporaries doing--like water skiing. Things I used to love to do are out of the question. I can't sing anymore. I can't really garden anymore. It takes me all day just to do a few loads of laundry...and washing floors? HA!
I'm not feeling sorry for myself. Just expressing the truth. The truth hurts, sometimes...but that's what getting old is all about. I keep trying. Wish me luck!
I'm trying to change my attitude, but my "self truths" are just too convincing. Once upon a time, I offered my arm to my daughter's boyfriend's 80-something great-grandmother when we were out in slick circumstances. She rankled, "Don't put me in that category YET!" Well...okay...but here I am, just slightly past the mid-60s, and I'm in that category. I see it in the way people treat me. I feel it in my shuffling feet and wheezing lungs. It hurts me when people I haven't seen in awhile say, "How are you? You don't look so good." Or when my bro-in-law says that I'm fat (I am) or that I can no longer participate in things I see my contemporaries doing--like water skiing. Things I used to love to do are out of the question. I can't sing anymore. I can't really garden anymore. It takes me all day just to do a few loads of laundry...and washing floors? HA!
I'm not feeling sorry for myself. Just expressing the truth. The truth hurts, sometimes...but that's what getting old is all about. I keep trying. Wish me luck!
One More Dating Thing: The French Kiss
I hope I have painted an accurate picture of my dating self way back in high school. I was naive. I was devoutly Christian. I was dedicated to a young man 500 miles away whom I might have seen twice a year. Looking back, I was pretty doggone innocent of the ways of the world! I didn't have a lot of experience in sexuality (and glad I didn't)! In short, I was a dweeb.
One of my best friends in junior high and high school was a gal named Kathy. Kathy came from a well-to-do family, and we all just clicked. (I think it bothered my mother that we could not reciprocate the kind of environment that I had at Kathy's house.) K and I would meet after school to do homework together. We'd get giggly and stupid, as all teenage girls do, but if our studying ran over into the dinner hour, it was not unusual for a plate for me to appear on their dinner table. (That worked the same for my house, too, but K always had to ask first what we were having for dinner. If it was liver and onions, she would decline the invitation to stay. My family was notorious for having things like that...)
ANYWAY, Kathy was in my grade in 6th grade, and her brother was a year below us. Both of them were very smart and were both skipped a grade the next year. Kathy went to 8th from 6th, and Donnie went from 5th to 7th--in with me. We still kept our friendship intact, but our circle of friends changed a bit. By the time we were in high school, she was a senior to my junior. We went through different things, but we were still thick.
During Kathy's senior year, her family hosted a Danish exchange student named Bo. Since Bo was now a part of her family, and I was also a part of her family, we often had some banter. Bo was fluent in English, but he was European...and they do things differently over there. For one thing, he was a bit resentful that he could not drink beer in America, although he could at home. From time to time, he would make fun of our teenage American sayings--mostly exclamations like "cool" and "keen".
Toward the end of the year, there was a school dance, and Bo invited me to be his date--kind of as a "brotherly" act. Kathy had a date, too, but we didn't go together. After the dance, I was to spend the night at Kathy's house. (Everything was on the up-and-up, in case you are wondering.) When Bo and I returned from the dance, we sat in the parlor to talk for awhile. Then the dear boy made a move on me. He kissed me. Whaaaat??? He stuck his tongue in my mouth! I had never been French kissed...had never even HEARD of French kissing...and was totally grossed out!!
I broke up that little soiree quite quickly after that! Went up to Kathy's room to await her arrival, and Bo retired to his room. (It was a huge house.) When K came home, I told her what had happened. She apparently told her parents about it, and they had a little talk with Bo about how "we don't do that in this country". I was totally mortified--first, that I didn't know how to handle the situation when it happened, and second, that he had to be talked to about it. I'm pretty sure that Bo and I had no other social contact after that. I never told my parents about it.
I learned MUCH later about French kissing. In America, it is associated with excitement and extreme passion--not a first-date, cordial kiss. Apparently, Europeans have other ideas! So there you have it, folks. I got my first French kiss from a Danish dude who had no romantic interest in me but was, I guess, only doing what he thought was expected. I would have made a horrible European!
One of my best friends in junior high and high school was a gal named Kathy. Kathy came from a well-to-do family, and we all just clicked. (I think it bothered my mother that we could not reciprocate the kind of environment that I had at Kathy's house.) K and I would meet after school to do homework together. We'd get giggly and stupid, as all teenage girls do, but if our studying ran over into the dinner hour, it was not unusual for a plate for me to appear on their dinner table. (That worked the same for my house, too, but K always had to ask first what we were having for dinner. If it was liver and onions, she would decline the invitation to stay. My family was notorious for having things like that...)
ANYWAY, Kathy was in my grade in 6th grade, and her brother was a year below us. Both of them were very smart and were both skipped a grade the next year. Kathy went to 8th from 6th, and Donnie went from 5th to 7th--in with me. We still kept our friendship intact, but our circle of friends changed a bit. By the time we were in high school, she was a senior to my junior. We went through different things, but we were still thick.
During Kathy's senior year, her family hosted a Danish exchange student named Bo. Since Bo was now a part of her family, and I was also a part of her family, we often had some banter. Bo was fluent in English, but he was European...and they do things differently over there. For one thing, he was a bit resentful that he could not drink beer in America, although he could at home. From time to time, he would make fun of our teenage American sayings--mostly exclamations like "cool" and "keen".
Toward the end of the year, there was a school dance, and Bo invited me to be his date--kind of as a "brotherly" act. Kathy had a date, too, but we didn't go together. After the dance, I was to spend the night at Kathy's house. (Everything was on the up-and-up, in case you are wondering.) When Bo and I returned from the dance, we sat in the parlor to talk for awhile. Then the dear boy made a move on me. He kissed me. Whaaaat??? He stuck his tongue in my mouth! I had never been French kissed...had never even HEARD of French kissing...and was totally grossed out!!
I broke up that little soiree quite quickly after that! Went up to Kathy's room to await her arrival, and Bo retired to his room. (It was a huge house.) When K came home, I told her what had happened. She apparently told her parents about it, and they had a little talk with Bo about how "we don't do that in this country". I was totally mortified--first, that I didn't know how to handle the situation when it happened, and second, that he had to be talked to about it. I'm pretty sure that Bo and I had no other social contact after that. I never told my parents about it.
I learned MUCH later about French kissing. In America, it is associated with excitement and extreme passion--not a first-date, cordial kiss. Apparently, Europeans have other ideas! So there you have it, folks. I got my first French kiss from a Danish dude who had no romantic interest in me but was, I guess, only doing what he thought was expected. I would have made a horrible European!
Saturday, February 16, 2013
More Dating Rules
I have to backtrack a little because I have thought of some things that were part of my youth and part of my parenting...
There was a spoken rule at my house that there could be NO guests of the opposite sex in the house if the adults weren't home. That wasn't usually an issue since at least one parent was usually home. And, truth be known, I generally didn't entertain guys at my house. If we didn't go out for a date, we didn't see each other. I thought that's what everyone did. (I have no clue if that was true for other families. I only knew it was for my family.) Being the obendient kid that I was, I never had guys at the house unchaperoned....except for that once. When I was a freshman, I had a so-called BF named Sherby--a Jewish kid. We never dated because we were too young, but we did go to the high school pool to swim...and this time, he walked me home. (It was just about a mile from the HS to my house, so it was a bit out of his way....) When we got to my place, no one was there. What to do? I invited Sherby in, dreading the thought that a parent would show up and I would be forever shamed by my disobedience. He sat in my dad's recliner and we pretended to smooch, but I felt too guilt-ridden and scared to carry on...so I sent him home. Sherby remained a friend thoughout high school, but only a friend. ( went to a very large high school in which it was possible to not see friends all day.) He got a lead in the Senior Play opposite me, so we had a chance to refresh our friendship before graduation. (Wonder what happened to ol' Sherby?)
The bedrooms in that big house were upstairs. Male guests were not allowed up there--something that was also dictated in college in my segregated female dorm. Once or twice a year, we had visiting days when males were allowed in our dorm rooms, but there were rules about that: the room door had to be open, and there had to be three feet on the floor at all times--and the halls were patrolled. I mimicked that when my daughter was a dating young'un. My little house-on-a-slab doesn't have much room for entertaining persons of the opposite sex. I REALLY didn't want boys in her room, but I allowed it as long as the door was open and there were three feet on the floor. (I also had the rule that no males were allowed in the house if I wasn't home. I trusted my daughter on that one but have no idea whether or not she obeyed!) One of my dear-but-skeptical male friends made fun of me for that one, saying, "If they're going to 'do it', they'll find a way." Well, yeah...I knew that. I just was making it a bit more difficult. As far as I know, it worked!
One day when Megan was still in high school and dating, my best friend (Phyllis) asked me if I thought Meg was sexually active. I told her that we hadn't talked about it...that I really didn't want to know...that there are just some things you don't tell your mother. I really, really respect Phyllis as a teacher and a mother, but she nailed me on the forehead by saying, "It's your JOB to know!" I snooped enough to know a lot of things that Meg didn't tell me, but I never found evidence of actual physical sexual activity until after she had graduated. Thank God I was spared from having to deal with that! (Dr. Phil agrees with Phyl, but I was raised in the generation of denial!)
And it occurs to me that, even as close as I always thought Meg and I were, SHE has to be in control of the flow of information. If she ever feels that she isn't, she will flat-out cut people out of her life. She has done it to her father, to me, to her best friend...and anyone else that she perceives is getting too close to information that she doesn't want to let out just yet. And the beat goes on...
I don't feel that I suffered from the dating rules. They gave me a compass. I am FAR from sinless in that regard, but I think I am at least still in the running for understanding how things should be, even if they aren't!
Next subject!
There was a spoken rule at my house that there could be NO guests of the opposite sex in the house if the adults weren't home. That wasn't usually an issue since at least one parent was usually home. And, truth be known, I generally didn't entertain guys at my house. If we didn't go out for a date, we didn't see each other. I thought that's what everyone did. (I have no clue if that was true for other families. I only knew it was for my family.) Being the obendient kid that I was, I never had guys at the house unchaperoned....except for that once. When I was a freshman, I had a so-called BF named Sherby--a Jewish kid. We never dated because we were too young, but we did go to the high school pool to swim...and this time, he walked me home. (It was just about a mile from the HS to my house, so it was a bit out of his way....) When we got to my place, no one was there. What to do? I invited Sherby in, dreading the thought that a parent would show up and I would be forever shamed by my disobedience. He sat in my dad's recliner and we pretended to smooch, but I felt too guilt-ridden and scared to carry on...so I sent him home. Sherby remained a friend thoughout high school, but only a friend. ( went to a very large high school in which it was possible to not see friends all day.) He got a lead in the Senior Play opposite me, so we had a chance to refresh our friendship before graduation. (Wonder what happened to ol' Sherby?)
The bedrooms in that big house were upstairs. Male guests were not allowed up there--something that was also dictated in college in my segregated female dorm. Once or twice a year, we had visiting days when males were allowed in our dorm rooms, but there were rules about that: the room door had to be open, and there had to be three feet on the floor at all times--and the halls were patrolled. I mimicked that when my daughter was a dating young'un. My little house-on-a-slab doesn't have much room for entertaining persons of the opposite sex. I REALLY didn't want boys in her room, but I allowed it as long as the door was open and there were three feet on the floor. (I also had the rule that no males were allowed in the house if I wasn't home. I trusted my daughter on that one but have no idea whether or not she obeyed!) One of my dear-but-skeptical male friends made fun of me for that one, saying, "If they're going to 'do it', they'll find a way." Well, yeah...I knew that. I just was making it a bit more difficult. As far as I know, it worked!
One day when Megan was still in high school and dating, my best friend (Phyllis) asked me if I thought Meg was sexually active. I told her that we hadn't talked about it...that I really didn't want to know...that there are just some things you don't tell your mother. I really, really respect Phyllis as a teacher and a mother, but she nailed me on the forehead by saying, "It's your JOB to know!" I snooped enough to know a lot of things that Meg didn't tell me, but I never found evidence of actual physical sexual activity until after she had graduated. Thank God I was spared from having to deal with that! (Dr. Phil agrees with Phyl, but I was raised in the generation of denial!)
And it occurs to me that, even as close as I always thought Meg and I were, SHE has to be in control of the flow of information. If she ever feels that she isn't, she will flat-out cut people out of her life. She has done it to her father, to me, to her best friend...and anyone else that she perceives is getting too close to information that she doesn't want to let out just yet. And the beat goes on...
I don't feel that I suffered from the dating rules. They gave me a compass. I am FAR from sinless in that regard, but I think I am at least still in the running for understanding how things should be, even if they aren't!
Next subject!
Thursday, February 14, 2013
The Hype That Isn't Hip
If you don't know what "hip" means, you are too young to be reading my blogs!
There are lots of non-holidays on the calendar. When I was a kid, I knew about Mother's Day and Father's Day, but wondered why there wasn't a Children's Day. My mother informed me that EVERY day is children's day. What kind of an answer is that??? I didn't get it until I became a mother!
In my opinion, there are two holidays that never live up to the hype that surrounds them:
1. New Year's Eve.
In all my years as a viable, young adult, I dreamed of the kind of NYE that was celebrated on television--dinner and dancing with friends, all with festive hats and noise-makers, drinking until midnight, then kissing the love of your life right at the witching hour. It all looked so exciting and romantic! Truth? Unless you find yourself in the middle of Times Square in New York, half drunk, it just ain't that special! I have spent many a NYE all alone in my house-on-a-slab, watching the clock to see if I could actually stay awake long enough to see the ball drop in Times Square. I wasn't sad. I was just anxious to get the occasion over with so I could get on with what was left of my Christmas vacation from teaching.
And then there was the one New Year's Day that I got the email from the River Forest, IL, police asking if I was the sister of Douglas Covill who had, I later found out, dropped dead in a store on NYE Day...
NYE has only recently been rejuvenated in my life with the advent of my Russian-born son-in-law. New Year is the biggest Russian holiday, so the whole family tries to make it really special for him and his parents. We do the traditional Russian dishes and the midnight champagne toast, etc. It's fun, but it's not the hyped hoopla that we Americans have come to think it should be. Thank God!
2. Valentine's Day.
Do you remember Valentine's Day as a kid, when your class had a party?
We decorated shoe boxes or envelopes to tape our our desks. Teachers sent home a list of everyone in the class and made sure that we understood that no one was to be left out. We bought class collections of obnoxious little "be my Valentine" thingies--25 to a box--to write to everyone in the class. Don't know about you, but I spent hours going through the offerings to pick just the right one for each kid and print my name on it. Whew! At the end of the day, I would go through the ones I got, searching the message on each one to see if there was some secret indication about whether that person liked me or not. I'm not kidding! The messages were things like, "I'm just batty about you" with a picture of a bat. Pretty sick!
One of the things I remember as a teenager was thinking that getting a heart-shaped box of candy was the ultimate! I thought of it...dreamed of it...but it never happened. (My folks and others of their generation weren't indoctrinated. If that heart-shaped box of candy wasn't going to come from them, it wasn't coming at all...and it didn't!)
And then there was the VDay that I was called to substitute for my principal-husband's secretary (now wife--need I say more?). A little vase with a single red rose arrived on her desk from him (as with the other secretary in the school office), and all I could think was "There'd better be one of these for me somewhere later in the day." There wasn't. The message fairly screamed at me. No question about what it meant!
Valentine's Day lures people (particularly women) into thinking that if they don't have a sweetheart, they are nothing. I have seen it year after year. It's nice to think that someone out there loves you enough to give you candy or flowers or a special dinner out, but in the grand scheme of things, the only people who really benefit from this are the restaurants, the flower shops, and the candy makers. Maybe I'm just jaded by age, but little remembrances should happen every day...not just VDay! I don't feel in the least bit left out that I don't have candy to make me fat or flowers to die in the vase. I know who loves me. No one needs to prove it in the least! I am blessed to be alive to see another Valentine's Day. If you expected more than you got, I'm sorry. The hype got you. Life happens in the meantime!
I consider each day a precious gift of God's love. What more do we need??
There are lots of non-holidays on the calendar. When I was a kid, I knew about Mother's Day and Father's Day, but wondered why there wasn't a Children's Day. My mother informed me that EVERY day is children's day. What kind of an answer is that??? I didn't get it until I became a mother!
In my opinion, there are two holidays that never live up to the hype that surrounds them:
1. New Year's Eve.
In all my years as a viable, young adult, I dreamed of the kind of NYE that was celebrated on television--dinner and dancing with friends, all with festive hats and noise-makers, drinking until midnight, then kissing the love of your life right at the witching hour. It all looked so exciting and romantic! Truth? Unless you find yourself in the middle of Times Square in New York, half drunk, it just ain't that special! I have spent many a NYE all alone in my house-on-a-slab, watching the clock to see if I could actually stay awake long enough to see the ball drop in Times Square. I wasn't sad. I was just anxious to get the occasion over with so I could get on with what was left of my Christmas vacation from teaching.
And then there was the one New Year's Day that I got the email from the River Forest, IL, police asking if I was the sister of Douglas Covill who had, I later found out, dropped dead in a store on NYE Day...
NYE has only recently been rejuvenated in my life with the advent of my Russian-born son-in-law. New Year is the biggest Russian holiday, so the whole family tries to make it really special for him and his parents. We do the traditional Russian dishes and the midnight champagne toast, etc. It's fun, but it's not the hyped hoopla that we Americans have come to think it should be. Thank God!
2. Valentine's Day.
Do you remember Valentine's Day as a kid, when your class had a party?
We decorated shoe boxes or envelopes to tape our our desks. Teachers sent home a list of everyone in the class and made sure that we understood that no one was to be left out. We bought class collections of obnoxious little "be my Valentine" thingies--25 to a box--to write to everyone in the class. Don't know about you, but I spent hours going through the offerings to pick just the right one for each kid and print my name on it. Whew! At the end of the day, I would go through the ones I got, searching the message on each one to see if there was some secret indication about whether that person liked me or not. I'm not kidding! The messages were things like, "I'm just batty about you" with a picture of a bat. Pretty sick!
One of the things I remember as a teenager was thinking that getting a heart-shaped box of candy was the ultimate! I thought of it...dreamed of it...but it never happened. (My folks and others of their generation weren't indoctrinated. If that heart-shaped box of candy wasn't going to come from them, it wasn't coming at all...and it didn't!)
And then there was the VDay that I was called to substitute for my principal-husband's secretary (now wife--need I say more?). A little vase with a single red rose arrived on her desk from him (as with the other secretary in the school office), and all I could think was "There'd better be one of these for me somewhere later in the day." There wasn't. The message fairly screamed at me. No question about what it meant!
Valentine's Day lures people (particularly women) into thinking that if they don't have a sweetheart, they are nothing. I have seen it year after year. It's nice to think that someone out there loves you enough to give you candy or flowers or a special dinner out, but in the grand scheme of things, the only people who really benefit from this are the restaurants, the flower shops, and the candy makers. Maybe I'm just jaded by age, but little remembrances should happen every day...not just VDay! I don't feel in the least bit left out that I don't have candy to make me fat or flowers to die in the vase. I know who loves me. No one needs to prove it in the least! I am blessed to be alive to see another Valentine's Day. If you expected more than you got, I'm sorry. The hype got you. Life happens in the meantime!
I consider each day a precious gift of God's love. What more do we need??
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Rules for Dating My Daughter
Someone posted this on Facebook. It is humorous and supposedly written by a man. (Be patient. I'm getting to something here.)
"RULES FOR DATING MY DAUGHTER
Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up....
Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.
Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."
Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.
Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. On issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a Black Hawk chopper coming in over a san hill near Mogadishu. When my PTSD starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is me."
My commentary:
Though this is supposed to be funny and written by someone contemporary, I grew up in the generation where it was pretty much the real thing! When I was of dating age, there were some spoken and many unspoken rules that had as much to do with me as with the young man who was taking me out. (Things were a whole lot different back then than they are now.)
First of all, I didn't have any serious boyfriends in high school. The real love of my life lived 500 miles away. He came from a really nice family, so he wasn't a threat due to distance and inbred morality. But I did date locally. And the rules were these:
1. I had to ask permission to accept a date. In those days, the age of majority was 21--not 18 as it is now. I was not free to consider my life my own--and wouldn't have, anyway. It was a matter of respect for my parents to think that they still had control over me. In my generation, dates only occurred on the weekends--never during the week--unless they were special school-sponsored, chaperoned events.
2. It was considered rude for a date to sit at the curb and honk, as if I weren't important enough to be picked up at the door. My parents would not have allowed me to go out with someone they hadn't met. In those days, we weren't required to register phone numbers, etc., because cell phones were a thing of the future, but the young man was expected to be a "man" and come to the door to pick me up and meet the folks.
3. I didn't have a curfew because I never pushed what my parents would have considered too late to be out. Most of the time, I understood that I should be home by midnight. I didn't keep company with crowds that drank or did drugs. (I was quite naive and protected. I guess those things happened, but I wasn't part of it.) Only once in all that time was I challenged. I came home at 1:00 AM, and Mom asked, "Don't you think you are late getting home?" Well...yes...but it was for a cast party after one of my plays. I guess I just thought that the folks understood this was a special occasion. I didn't do that again.
4. When I came home from a date, I was not to sit in the car out front with the young man. The neighbors might talk! This was a spoken rule. I resented it a bit because, being a normal teenager, I didn't care what the neighbors thought. I was a responsible kid! Nonetheless, I obeyed. Of course, the porch light was always on, so a perfunctory good-night kiss would be more visible to the neighborhood than if I just sat in my date's car. Thus, I brought the young man in to the foyer where the lights were just as bright, but my parents were in the living room and not in sight. Rest assured, my parents WERE still up!
5. I made it a point that my date and I never touched each other in front of my parents. (I had never done that. Didn't want to be teased. "Peggy's got a boyfriend, nya, nya...") Truth be known, my dates and I rarely touched, anyway! Hand-holding was just about it, and never in the presence of my folks. The exception for that was with my long-distance BF. We held hands coming in from a walk in the woods with his sister one time. It was a significant enough event that my mother commented that it must be a serious romance because I was holding hands with him!
6. One time--ONE time--I stayed home from school for some invented illness. I insisted on staying in the bed in the downstiairs parlor room of that house instead of upstairs in my bedroom, assuming that my presumed BF at the time would come to visit. (Looking back on that, I am a bit embarrassed. I totally thought I had my mother buffaloed, but she knew exactly what was going on. Although I stayed in my pajamas all day, I got out of my sick bed to do my hair and make-up toward the end of the school day. Pretty obvious, huh?) As expected, Wes showed up to visit poor little sick me. At some point, he was sitting on the edge of the bed--on my chest, essentially--bouncing up and down. I was giggling. Out of nowhere, my father showed up and said in a voice that only he could command, "Young man, I expect you to behave like a gentleman in this house!" I guess bouncing on his daughter's chest wasn't what Dad considered gentlemanly behavior...ya think? I was mortified, of course, but I got it. Ol' Wes didn't last long after that.
7. Unless I was just sheltered from that sort of thing, sex just wasn't an issue in my dating. Girls did not dress suggestively, and boys didn't wear baggy pants that showed their underwear. (I never considered men's underwear to be particularly sexy anyway.) School dress codes were also life dress codes. No problem there.
8. I only had one date that made me cry. He was a swimmer and a social climber. He became interested in me only because I was active in the theater department--in the spotlight, so to speak. We became chummy at school. I think we only went out on two official dates, but it was close to the Senior Prom, so I was hopeful. (Hopeful for what, I'm not sure.) As time went on, I kept waiting for an invitation to Prom that wasn't happening. I finally cornered his younger brother to ask...and the results weren't good. The kid obviously wasn't happy with my backward dating ways and had no intention of inviting me to the Prom, but his father was a local Baptist minister and wouldn't hear of his son's dumping me without explanation....so....the fellow finally invited me, under duress. I wasn't invited out to dinner first, nor to any activities after. Just to the dance. Bang. Never heard from him again. No warning. No breakup. I wept because I didn't understand.
9. Toward the end of my senior year in school, I started seeing a fellow that was a twin. Both he and his brother were just not my type, but going out with him/them gave me opportunities to do things I couldn't otherwise have done...like going to Riverview Amusement Park in Chicago, etc. I had zero interest in him as a boyfriend. Apparently he felt more for me. I didn't get it. That summer, I went to Wisconsin to visit the real love of my life...my long-distance boyfriend. After I was there a week, we decided that I should stay longer...but this other guy was ready for me to come home. Somehow, he got the phone number from my mother and called me in Wisconsin. I was furious! How dare he! Jim (my BF) was upset that another guy was calling me at his house...and it was pretty hard to explain! When I finally did go home, I went home to the family farm...and this guy showed up with a HUGE stuffed animal for me, as if to claim me. I just wasn't having any of it. That was the end of him!
I see that I have digressed from the dating rules to other topics. I'm old. So sue me! I guess the only conclusion I can come to is that I lived in a generation that wasn't ready for the changes that have happened since. I'm still single after all these years. I still hold to all of the principles that were part of my raising, even though the world isn't the same. Or maybe it is? I think parents would like to protect their children but don't know how. If everyone held to their values, maybe the world wouldn't be in such a mess! We'll see...
"RULES FOR DATING MY DAUGHTER
Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up....
Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.
Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact, come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is "early."
Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there are no parents, policemen, or nuns within eyesight. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.
Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. On issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a Black Hawk chopper coming in over a san hill near Mogadishu. When my PTSD starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit your car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is me."
My commentary:
Though this is supposed to be funny and written by someone contemporary, I grew up in the generation where it was pretty much the real thing! When I was of dating age, there were some spoken and many unspoken rules that had as much to do with me as with the young man who was taking me out. (Things were a whole lot different back then than they are now.)
First of all, I didn't have any serious boyfriends in high school. The real love of my life lived 500 miles away. He came from a really nice family, so he wasn't a threat due to distance and inbred morality. But I did date locally. And the rules were these:
1. I had to ask permission to accept a date. In those days, the age of majority was 21--not 18 as it is now. I was not free to consider my life my own--and wouldn't have, anyway. It was a matter of respect for my parents to think that they still had control over me. In my generation, dates only occurred on the weekends--never during the week--unless they were special school-sponsored, chaperoned events.
2. It was considered rude for a date to sit at the curb and honk, as if I weren't important enough to be picked up at the door. My parents would not have allowed me to go out with someone they hadn't met. In those days, we weren't required to register phone numbers, etc., because cell phones were a thing of the future, but the young man was expected to be a "man" and come to the door to pick me up and meet the folks.
3. I didn't have a curfew because I never pushed what my parents would have considered too late to be out. Most of the time, I understood that I should be home by midnight. I didn't keep company with crowds that drank or did drugs. (I was quite naive and protected. I guess those things happened, but I wasn't part of it.) Only once in all that time was I challenged. I came home at 1:00 AM, and Mom asked, "Don't you think you are late getting home?" Well...yes...but it was for a cast party after one of my plays. I guess I just thought that the folks understood this was a special occasion. I didn't do that again.
4. When I came home from a date, I was not to sit in the car out front with the young man. The neighbors might talk! This was a spoken rule. I resented it a bit because, being a normal teenager, I didn't care what the neighbors thought. I was a responsible kid! Nonetheless, I obeyed. Of course, the porch light was always on, so a perfunctory good-night kiss would be more visible to the neighborhood than if I just sat in my date's car. Thus, I brought the young man in to the foyer where the lights were just as bright, but my parents were in the living room and not in sight. Rest assured, my parents WERE still up!
5. I made it a point that my date and I never touched each other in front of my parents. (I had never done that. Didn't want to be teased. "Peggy's got a boyfriend, nya, nya...") Truth be known, my dates and I rarely touched, anyway! Hand-holding was just about it, and never in the presence of my folks. The exception for that was with my long-distance BF. We held hands coming in from a walk in the woods with his sister one time. It was a significant enough event that my mother commented that it must be a serious romance because I was holding hands with him!
6. One time--ONE time--I stayed home from school for some invented illness. I insisted on staying in the bed in the downstiairs parlor room of that house instead of upstairs in my bedroom, assuming that my presumed BF at the time would come to visit. (Looking back on that, I am a bit embarrassed. I totally thought I had my mother buffaloed, but she knew exactly what was going on. Although I stayed in my pajamas all day, I got out of my sick bed to do my hair and make-up toward the end of the school day. Pretty obvious, huh?) As expected, Wes showed up to visit poor little sick me. At some point, he was sitting on the edge of the bed--on my chest, essentially--bouncing up and down. I was giggling. Out of nowhere, my father showed up and said in a voice that only he could command, "Young man, I expect you to behave like a gentleman in this house!" I guess bouncing on his daughter's chest wasn't what Dad considered gentlemanly behavior...ya think? I was mortified, of course, but I got it. Ol' Wes didn't last long after that.
7. Unless I was just sheltered from that sort of thing, sex just wasn't an issue in my dating. Girls did not dress suggestively, and boys didn't wear baggy pants that showed their underwear. (I never considered men's underwear to be particularly sexy anyway.) School dress codes were also life dress codes. No problem there.
8. I only had one date that made me cry. He was a swimmer and a social climber. He became interested in me only because I was active in the theater department--in the spotlight, so to speak. We became chummy at school. I think we only went out on two official dates, but it was close to the Senior Prom, so I was hopeful. (Hopeful for what, I'm not sure.) As time went on, I kept waiting for an invitation to Prom that wasn't happening. I finally cornered his younger brother to ask...and the results weren't good. The kid obviously wasn't happy with my backward dating ways and had no intention of inviting me to the Prom, but his father was a local Baptist minister and wouldn't hear of his son's dumping me without explanation....so....the fellow finally invited me, under duress. I wasn't invited out to dinner first, nor to any activities after. Just to the dance. Bang. Never heard from him again. No warning. No breakup. I wept because I didn't understand.
9. Toward the end of my senior year in school, I started seeing a fellow that was a twin. Both he and his brother were just not my type, but going out with him/them gave me opportunities to do things I couldn't otherwise have done...like going to Riverview Amusement Park in Chicago, etc. I had zero interest in him as a boyfriend. Apparently he felt more for me. I didn't get it. That summer, I went to Wisconsin to visit the real love of my life...my long-distance boyfriend. After I was there a week, we decided that I should stay longer...but this other guy was ready for me to come home. Somehow, he got the phone number from my mother and called me in Wisconsin. I was furious! How dare he! Jim (my BF) was upset that another guy was calling me at his house...and it was pretty hard to explain! When I finally did go home, I went home to the family farm...and this guy showed up with a HUGE stuffed animal for me, as if to claim me. I just wasn't having any of it. That was the end of him!
I see that I have digressed from the dating rules to other topics. I'm old. So sue me! I guess the only conclusion I can come to is that I lived in a generation that wasn't ready for the changes that have happened since. I'm still single after all these years. I still hold to all of the principles that were part of my raising, even though the world isn't the same. Or maybe it is? I think parents would like to protect their children but don't know how. If everyone held to their values, maybe the world wouldn't be in such a mess! We'll see...
Killing Zombies
My former stepson's widow has been spending an inordinate amount of time dealing with the loose ends discovered after his passing. Most of it was financial, and some of it was critical--like the fact that their car insurance had expired and she didn't know it. Little by little, she's been jumping through the hoops. She calls it "killing zombies".
I've killed a few zombies myself...with a little help from my daughter. I hate it, but once it's done, I feel like a million bucks!
Before I left for my sister's, I paid my electric bill. I was shocked at how low it was--a mere $84. Wow! That was easy! So now, the next electric bill has arrived. Again, a shock. $227???? It was more than TWICE as high as my heating bill, and this is the dead of winter! I've been searching my brain for answers as to why the bill would be so high this month. Even accounting for the fact that I had company for a few of the days of the billing period, I was also gone a few of those days. Megan offered to get on the website and nose around for me. She couldn't account for it, either, so I decided to call Duke Energy to see if the current meter reading could be inaccurate. After talking with the gal--nice lady, btw--we determined that it was the LAST meter reading that was probably inaccurate. We connected the dots and figured that this month's bill was a catch-up. I can't really complain about that. I mean, I used the electricity and I owe the money (although I wish I hadn't been hit with that high bill all at once).
But here is the good news: in the process of messing around on the Duke website, Megan resolved a glitch for me. For many years, my electric bill has been the ONLY bill that I couldn't pay online because, for some reason, it had a place to pay the bill but wouldn't let me do it. Turns out, I had to sign up for "paperless billing" before I could do that. When I called Duke today, the gal I was working with put me in touch with one of their tech people who started to walk me through the process, but the process was already in place. Voila! For the first time in 20 years, I paid the bill online and didn't have to pay the service fee for paying it on the phone! One dead zombie!
I have another zombie to kill with my medicine prescription situation...and I have one day to do it before I run out of meds. Now that I feel armed against the red tape zombies, I can do it! Just watch me!
I've killed a few zombies myself...with a little help from my daughter. I hate it, but once it's done, I feel like a million bucks!
Before I left for my sister's, I paid my electric bill. I was shocked at how low it was--a mere $84. Wow! That was easy! So now, the next electric bill has arrived. Again, a shock. $227???? It was more than TWICE as high as my heating bill, and this is the dead of winter! I've been searching my brain for answers as to why the bill would be so high this month. Even accounting for the fact that I had company for a few of the days of the billing period, I was also gone a few of those days. Megan offered to get on the website and nose around for me. She couldn't account for it, either, so I decided to call Duke Energy to see if the current meter reading could be inaccurate. After talking with the gal--nice lady, btw--we determined that it was the LAST meter reading that was probably inaccurate. We connected the dots and figured that this month's bill was a catch-up. I can't really complain about that. I mean, I used the electricity and I owe the money (although I wish I hadn't been hit with that high bill all at once).
But here is the good news: in the process of messing around on the Duke website, Megan resolved a glitch for me. For many years, my electric bill has been the ONLY bill that I couldn't pay online because, for some reason, it had a place to pay the bill but wouldn't let me do it. Turns out, I had to sign up for "paperless billing" before I could do that. When I called Duke today, the gal I was working with put me in touch with one of their tech people who started to walk me through the process, but the process was already in place. Voila! For the first time in 20 years, I paid the bill online and didn't have to pay the service fee for paying it on the phone! One dead zombie!
I have another zombie to kill with my medicine prescription situation...and I have one day to do it before I run out of meds. Now that I feel armed against the red tape zombies, I can do it! Just watch me!
Monday, February 11, 2013
A Nation of Hypocrites
I probably should stay off of Facebook. People I know--and actually like--post things that scare me about our society. In fact, some of what I read almost makes me ashamed to say I'm a Christian because of the things that are foisted in the name of Christianity.
Today, a group of students in a high school in Indiana decided that they wanted to have a "gay free" prom, and when the school and just about everyone else recoiled in horror, the group was given a place to meet--a local Christian church. It made national news. Yes, the Bible (Old Testament) says that homosexuality is "an abomination to the Lord"...but those same scriptures also forbid cutting beards, eating pork, allowing women to be teachers, mixing meat with dairy products, and (of course) divorce, among MANY other taboos. Modern society pays no attention to them, but it seems to hang on to the anti-gay scripture and hold it as untouchable. Guess we get to pick and choose which things are forbidden and which aren't?
One of the Ten Commandments is "Thou shalt not kill." That applies to abortion, apparently, even though the unborn have no real opportunity to live outside of the mother's body, but it does NOT apply to criminals assigned to Death Row? Soldiers are revered in our society as "heroes" just by reason of their service. We overlook our so-called Christian beginnings in order to honor people who are trained to kill in defense of our country. (I'm not against this, by the way. Just trying to point out our selective hypocrisy.)
Another of the Ten Commandments declares "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife." Care to guess how many married people cheat on their spouses?? Do you hear anyone squawking about that on a national level? Heck, even our nation's top leaders have done that and got re-elected anyway.
Then there are the gun nuts. The second amendment to the Constitution provides that all citizens have the right to keep and bear arms. It is a God-given right, durn it, because it is in the Constitution that was signed by the very founders of this great nation!! But...the founders of this great nation were just men dealing with the circumstances of their time. Not all of them were Christians. George Washington--father of our country--was a slave owner. Thomas Jefferson was also a slave owner--in fact had children by one of his slaves. (Proven.) I see so many things on Facebook that show Americans touting guns as the American way of life--something I used to see on TV about the Middle East as a kid. Emotional men at the funeral of someone, shooting their weapons in the air. I can remember thinking, "Thank God we aren't like that here." But more and more, we are...
Today, one of my young Facebook friends (a former student) reposted a deal about how Americans will be required to have microchips implanted in their hands for "Obamacare" starting in March. Anyone with half a brain knows this isn't true, but I investigated it on the various Internet hoax sites. Sure enough, it is a hoax. Thus, I posted on the gal's site that it was false and that she needed to look these things up before she posted stuff like that. One of her friends responded by saying, "The world will be doing this, though." I challenged that, asking what crystal ball she was using. Her response was, verbatim, "read your bible it don't take a moron to figure this one out". Well, apparently it DO take a moron! I asked her to quote chapter and verse where the Bible says anything about how people of the world will be microchipped. So far, no response. (Duh!)
I get angry at this stuff while understanding that most of it is designed to make me so. People who are so-called Christians need to pay attention to the words of the Christ. Jesus said not one word about homosexuality. He kept company with the poor and some harlots...and knew their hearts. He told us that we should not judge because we would be judged in the same way. He didn't tell us to bear arms against our neighbors, but that we should turn the other cheek...love our enemies...treat others as we want to be treated...(not just those who have jobs and pull their weight in society). Jesus was a liberal! (Egads! I probably just condemned myself by saying that in the State of Indiana! We are all conservatives here, you know...)
If you have your prejudices (as I do), please don't use the Bible or Christianity to defend them. I want to have my faith without feeling ashamed that we supposedly share the same beliefs!
Today, a group of students in a high school in Indiana decided that they wanted to have a "gay free" prom, and when the school and just about everyone else recoiled in horror, the group was given a place to meet--a local Christian church. It made national news. Yes, the Bible (Old Testament) says that homosexuality is "an abomination to the Lord"...but those same scriptures also forbid cutting beards, eating pork, allowing women to be teachers, mixing meat with dairy products, and (of course) divorce, among MANY other taboos. Modern society pays no attention to them, but it seems to hang on to the anti-gay scripture and hold it as untouchable. Guess we get to pick and choose which things are forbidden and which aren't?
One of the Ten Commandments is "Thou shalt not kill." That applies to abortion, apparently, even though the unborn have no real opportunity to live outside of the mother's body, but it does NOT apply to criminals assigned to Death Row? Soldiers are revered in our society as "heroes" just by reason of their service. We overlook our so-called Christian beginnings in order to honor people who are trained to kill in defense of our country. (I'm not against this, by the way. Just trying to point out our selective hypocrisy.)
Another of the Ten Commandments declares "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife." Care to guess how many married people cheat on their spouses?? Do you hear anyone squawking about that on a national level? Heck, even our nation's top leaders have done that and got re-elected anyway.
Then there are the gun nuts. The second amendment to the Constitution provides that all citizens have the right to keep and bear arms. It is a God-given right, durn it, because it is in the Constitution that was signed by the very founders of this great nation!! But...the founders of this great nation were just men dealing with the circumstances of their time. Not all of them were Christians. George Washington--father of our country--was a slave owner. Thomas Jefferson was also a slave owner--in fact had children by one of his slaves. (Proven.) I see so many things on Facebook that show Americans touting guns as the American way of life--something I used to see on TV about the Middle East as a kid. Emotional men at the funeral of someone, shooting their weapons in the air. I can remember thinking, "Thank God we aren't like that here." But more and more, we are...
Today, one of my young Facebook friends (a former student) reposted a deal about how Americans will be required to have microchips implanted in their hands for "Obamacare" starting in March. Anyone with half a brain knows this isn't true, but I investigated it on the various Internet hoax sites. Sure enough, it is a hoax. Thus, I posted on the gal's site that it was false and that she needed to look these things up before she posted stuff like that. One of her friends responded by saying, "The world will be doing this, though." I challenged that, asking what crystal ball she was using. Her response was, verbatim, "read your bible it don't take a moron to figure this one out". Well, apparently it DO take a moron! I asked her to quote chapter and verse where the Bible says anything about how people of the world will be microchipped. So far, no response. (Duh!)
I get angry at this stuff while understanding that most of it is designed to make me so. People who are so-called Christians need to pay attention to the words of the Christ. Jesus said not one word about homosexuality. He kept company with the poor and some harlots...and knew their hearts. He told us that we should not judge because we would be judged in the same way. He didn't tell us to bear arms against our neighbors, but that we should turn the other cheek...love our enemies...treat others as we want to be treated...(not just those who have jobs and pull their weight in society). Jesus was a liberal! (Egads! I probably just condemned myself by saying that in the State of Indiana! We are all conservatives here, you know...)
If you have your prejudices (as I do), please don't use the Bible or Christianity to defend them. I want to have my faith without feeling ashamed that we supposedly share the same beliefs!
Sunday, February 10, 2013
I Need to Win the Lottery!
The problem is, of course, that I don't play the lottery! I don't have money to throw away on horrible odds. This is one of the reasons why the rich continue to get rich, and the rest of us just manage.
I need to be rich. I don't need money for ME. I need money because I have things to do to help some people who need it more than I do! I managed to get through Christmas and was just thinking that I could enjoy a month with just a little bit more than before, but noooo....
My December electric bill was $84. I was shocked at how reasonable it was. Well! This month's bill is $227! Yes, I had extra people in the house for part of the bill's time period, but I was also gone during some of that time. Only the clothes dryer, refrigerator, and baseboard heat in the garage room are electric. The other energy-eaters--furnace, stove, and water heater--are gas...and the gas bill is only $111 for the same period. Don't quite know what the difference is. It hasn't been a particularly cold period, and I haven't had controls set up any higher. Ugh! Thus, almost $350 of my meager income goes for creature comforts this month. I can handle it. I just don't like it very much!
I need to be rich. I don't need money for ME. I need money because I have things to do to help some people who need it more than I do! I managed to get through Christmas and was just thinking that I could enjoy a month with just a little bit more than before, but noooo....
My December electric bill was $84. I was shocked at how reasonable it was. Well! This month's bill is $227! Yes, I had extra people in the house for part of the bill's time period, but I was also gone during some of that time. Only the clothes dryer, refrigerator, and baseboard heat in the garage room are electric. The other energy-eaters--furnace, stove, and water heater--are gas...and the gas bill is only $111 for the same period. Don't quite know what the difference is. It hasn't been a particularly cold period, and I haven't had controls set up any higher. Ugh! Thus, almost $350 of my meager income goes for creature comforts this month. I can handle it. I just don't like it very much!
Grief All Around
While I was at my sister's, some people died.
One was the mother of one of my former students, now Facebook friend, who was suffering from the same cancer that took my stepson just a month ago. I arrived home in time to go to her funeral visitation, knowing no one except the daughter. This woman was 54. Her husband was retired and spent his time caring for her in this awful illness. I was so very touched by a little vase of flowers next to the casket from him. It said, simply, "I would do it all again."
It reminded me of the time 38 years ago, almost to the day, that I stood under the canopy at the end of my grandmother's graveside funeral service and listened to my grandfather sob, "I don't want to leave her here!"
Faithful and devoted to the inevitable end. God bless them all.
The other death, I totally missed. There is/was a couple from my church that also comes on Monday afternoons to help with the Homeless Ministry: John and Carolyn. An older couple. They helped to pack bags with fruit cups and pudding cups, etc., and assisted with preparing the meals. John generally chopped onions or carrots or whatever needed to be done. Carolyn, like me, helps from a sitting position due to mobility problems.
I got the news on Friday that Carolyn was driving them somewhere when John had a massive heart attack in their car. She detoured to a hospital where he was pronounced dead. His funeral happened while I was gone. I was so shocked with the news of his passing.
Carolyn was in church today. I managed to work my way over to her at the end of the service before she left the sanctuary to give her a hug. She looked so lost and numb. As I talked to her, she only shrugged her shoulders when I asked how she was holding up. Never said a word. I know very little about her or her family, only that she is suddenly alone, unexpectedly. My heart aches for her.
Grief all around.
And now it looks like one of my radio friends is about to have back surgery in a week or two. And my sister is still wrestling with Shingles. And a couple in my Sunday School class is suffering because the female half has injured the skin on one of her legs in a fall...for the second time...and it isn't healing well.
I get scared sometimes that human suffering deluges the Almighty with supplications for help. I need an attitude adjustment! I feel so helpless!
One was the mother of one of my former students, now Facebook friend, who was suffering from the same cancer that took my stepson just a month ago. I arrived home in time to go to her funeral visitation, knowing no one except the daughter. This woman was 54. Her husband was retired and spent his time caring for her in this awful illness. I was so very touched by a little vase of flowers next to the casket from him. It said, simply, "I would do it all again."
It reminded me of the time 38 years ago, almost to the day, that I stood under the canopy at the end of my grandmother's graveside funeral service and listened to my grandfather sob, "I don't want to leave her here!"
Faithful and devoted to the inevitable end. God bless them all.
The other death, I totally missed. There is/was a couple from my church that also comes on Monday afternoons to help with the Homeless Ministry: John and Carolyn. An older couple. They helped to pack bags with fruit cups and pudding cups, etc., and assisted with preparing the meals. John generally chopped onions or carrots or whatever needed to be done. Carolyn, like me, helps from a sitting position due to mobility problems.
I got the news on Friday that Carolyn was driving them somewhere when John had a massive heart attack in their car. She detoured to a hospital where he was pronounced dead. His funeral happened while I was gone. I was so shocked with the news of his passing.
Carolyn was in church today. I managed to work my way over to her at the end of the service before she left the sanctuary to give her a hug. She looked so lost and numb. As I talked to her, she only shrugged her shoulders when I asked how she was holding up. Never said a word. I know very little about her or her family, only that she is suddenly alone, unexpectedly. My heart aches for her.
Grief all around.
And now it looks like one of my radio friends is about to have back surgery in a week or two. And my sister is still wrestling with Shingles. And a couple in my Sunday School class is suffering because the female half has injured the skin on one of her legs in a fall...for the second time...and it isn't healing well.
I get scared sometimes that human suffering deluges the Almighty with supplications for help. I need an attitude adjustment! I feel so helpless!
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Mission of Mercy
I mentioned in my last blog post that I was headed to Illinois to assist my sister as she suffered from "shingles". She was diagnosed on Monday, Jan. 21st. The next day, she wrote to me saying that the pain was almost unbearable, and that she was hoping her daughters and/or friends would come with offers of food because she wasn't well enough to cook. Guess I have a bit of a thick skull because it took that long for it to dawn on me that I needed to go to Illinois to help her out. I called and said, "Help is on the way. Do you need me to come?" She said she wouldn't mind. I took the next day to pay bills and pack, then drove the 3 1/2 hours to their lovely home outside of Springfield with the notion that I'd just do whatever it took to help out.
Depending on the month, my sister is 5-6 years older than me, but she doesn't look it. She is very attractive, petite, and a delight to be around. She is somewhat tough in the regard that I am...having inherited the "damn-the-torpedoes, full-speed-ahead" approach to life that we got from our mother and grandmother. Still, she is caring for her husband who was a tyrant when he was well, but now suffers from early stages of dementia. In short, when I went, I understood that there would be issues...and there were. I understood that I could do nothing to change her pain. All I could do was do light housework and cooking and hope for the best.
Shingles is a nasty disease. My sister can only sleep in a recliner...cannot manage the bed yet...is under a doctor's care with all kinds of advice from a zillion people who have had it. (The statistic says that 50% of Americans will get it before age 80...so why isn't it talked about more?? Even getting the shot won't guarantee immunity.) Basically, all I did when I was there was cooking, and laundry. It didn't help much. Her husband has food issues. I did what I could.
My original intent was to stay long enough to get my sister through the worst of the disease. I was naive. We finally negotiated my exit day...Tuesday...which would be Day 12. I felt awful in leaving. My sister and I both cried, although not in each other's presence. Hopefully, she will get better soon. I just felt bad leaving her behind...
God provides. I need more faith, I guess...
Depending on the month, my sister is 5-6 years older than me, but she doesn't look it. She is very attractive, petite, and a delight to be around. She is somewhat tough in the regard that I am...having inherited the "damn-the-torpedoes, full-speed-ahead" approach to life that we got from our mother and grandmother. Still, she is caring for her husband who was a tyrant when he was well, but now suffers from early stages of dementia. In short, when I went, I understood that there would be issues...and there were. I understood that I could do nothing to change her pain. All I could do was do light housework and cooking and hope for the best.
Shingles is a nasty disease. My sister can only sleep in a recliner...cannot manage the bed yet...is under a doctor's care with all kinds of advice from a zillion people who have had it. (The statistic says that 50% of Americans will get it before age 80...so why isn't it talked about more?? Even getting the shot won't guarantee immunity.) Basically, all I did when I was there was cooking, and laundry. It didn't help much. Her husband has food issues. I did what I could.
My original intent was to stay long enough to get my sister through the worst of the disease. I was naive. We finally negotiated my exit day...Tuesday...which would be Day 12. I felt awful in leaving. My sister and I both cried, although not in each other's presence. Hopefully, she will get better soon. I just felt bad leaving her behind...
God provides. I need more faith, I guess...
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