As 2013 is about to go into the history books, there are reasons to look back--not just at 2013, but at life in general.
Eight years ago today, my brother died suddenly and unexpectedly while out shopping in River Forest, IL. I didn't get the news until New Year's Day when the RF police found me via email. (To this day, I don't know how that happened. Doug hadn't had anything to do with me OR our sister for six or seven years prior. Something he had on his person when he died eventually led the police to me, a next of kin, online. The message was. "If you are the sister of Mr. Covill, please call us at this number. Mr. Covill is sick and cannot speak for himself." Of course, I immediately called, only to be told that Doug was gone. I think the female officer in charge of the case was hoping that the Plainfield Police Chaplain would find me before she had to break the news, but he didn't show up at my door until I was on the phone with her. He was knocking when I told her, "I think he's here." Her response was, "Tell him that the Internet found you before he did!" (I didn't tell him that, obviously. He seemed relieved to know that I'd already received the news and that I wasn't totally falling apart.) I did shake for awhile, but I didn't fall apart! The next few weeks were busy and traumatic as my sister and I planned and arranged for Doug's last rites as a brother and a veteran. I simply cannot believe that was eight years ago!
I have often complained that New Year's Eve is highly overrated. And it is. In my whole life, I have only experienced two NYE celebrations that even hinted at the hooplah that the rest of the country touts. The last few years have been a bit different, since my Russian-born son-in-law has been in the family. New Year's is the BIG holiday in Russia--even bigger than Christmas. All of us have endeavored to follow Russian traditions, and I kind of like it. I'm not with them all this year, however, so it's back to "bidness as usual" in my house. I will meet up with Meg and Deniska via Skype just before midnight tonight, then will fall, face first, onto the bed for the night!!
This time next year, in the absence of an absolute God-given miracle, my extended family's constellation will be different. These things can't usually be predicted, but my niece's husband has been diagnosed with terminal cancer and probably won't live beyond summer. That whole side of the family will be affected. And then there are the things we don't know will happen.
If you are reading this, it means you are more devoted than average because my blog is BORING. Still, I wish you all the best in 2014, with God's blessings!!!!
Happy New Year!
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Christmas, 2013
I have already posted much about this year's holiday, but not my actual Christmas Day experience. I think I mentioned that I would be driving to my sister's near Springfield, IL. And so I did, leaving on Christmas Eve.
Did I mention that I was cat-sitting for my daughter's cat? I told Meg that I would as long as she understood that I would have to leave the cat behind for about three days while I went to my sister's. My neighbor agreed to check on the cat in my absence, making sure she had food and water, and cleaning out the litter box. Since my immediate family would be in Florida for the holiday, I decided to spend it with my sister and family for the first time in how long? Not sure...but a long time.
The distance to my daughter's in Grayslake, IL, is about the same as the distance to my sister's just west of Springfield, IL....but there is a HUGE difference in effort to get there. To go to Meg's, I have to make sure that my IPASS transponder for the toll road is loaded with enough funds, and drive in traffic all the way around Chicago, praying for no slowdowns. The trip to Shari's, however, is all lightly-traveled interstates and boring as the dickens. No stress! Thus it was. I left home in good time and made it there in good time.
My sister's house is warm and delightful, well-decorated, and comfortable. Family and friends came and went on Christmas Eve. Shari had prepared vegetable soup, macaroni and cheese, Italian beef for sandwiches, and baked beans. There were cookies and candies and wine/booze for those that imbibe. It was pleasant!
Christmas Day happened in waves. Some factions of the family would show up when they could. Some left early. Others overlapped. I got to visit nieces and nephews--even if only briefly--that I haven't seen in a couple of years. Dinner consisted of ham, mashed potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, applesauce, peas, rolls, deviled eggs, and I forget what else. I just know that I left the table feeling absolutely stuffed!! (My sister is a good cook!) After dinner, we retired to the living room to open gifts.
The only "downer" to the whole occasion is the fact that my niece's husband has been diagnosed with terminal cancer. At their request, we didn't talk about that except in grace before dinner where it was declared that, no matter the future, nothing could take away our happiness and memories of the day.
Santa Claus was really good to me this year! I got a brand new sewing machine from my daughter, and my sister (who always supplies me with gorgeous sweatshirts) gave me two more AND came up with a pair of britches that just happened to fit!!!!!!
I hope they liked the gifts I gave them. I just bought gift cards, basically...but then, there was the family tree. Meg worked on it for weeks, with input from me. It was a framed tree word print that she does as part of her business. I chose the design and colors, plus the mat and frame. Meg did the rest. It's a one-of-a-kind gift. Shari doesn't need something else to put on her walls, but I thought this was special. (Apparently, so did many of the family members who were in attendance....looking and looking at it, searching for their names. Thank God we didn't leave anyone out, including an unborn child!)
Yesterday, I went to Shari's workplace with her for a short errand that she needed to run, then we met her husband for lunch at Hooters. There, I got to see my brother-in-law's dementia-related obsessive behavior first-hand. Too much to go into here. Suffice it to say that he just gushed about the food, the service, the manager, and his own propensity to leave big tips. I left for home from there so that I could be home before dark and not leave the cat alone another day.
My car performed magnificently. Not sure how much longer that will happen. My bro-in-law was on good behavior, so there was no tension (that I could see). I got home in good time and in fine shape, and found the cat in her hiding place, so all was well.
Christmas this year seemed "iffy" at first to me, but turned out nicely. I came home tired but happy!
Did I mention that I was cat-sitting for my daughter's cat? I told Meg that I would as long as she understood that I would have to leave the cat behind for about three days while I went to my sister's. My neighbor agreed to check on the cat in my absence, making sure she had food and water, and cleaning out the litter box. Since my immediate family would be in Florida for the holiday, I decided to spend it with my sister and family for the first time in how long? Not sure...but a long time.
The distance to my daughter's in Grayslake, IL, is about the same as the distance to my sister's just west of Springfield, IL....but there is a HUGE difference in effort to get there. To go to Meg's, I have to make sure that my IPASS transponder for the toll road is loaded with enough funds, and drive in traffic all the way around Chicago, praying for no slowdowns. The trip to Shari's, however, is all lightly-traveled interstates and boring as the dickens. No stress! Thus it was. I left home in good time and made it there in good time.
My sister's house is warm and delightful, well-decorated, and comfortable. Family and friends came and went on Christmas Eve. Shari had prepared vegetable soup, macaroni and cheese, Italian beef for sandwiches, and baked beans. There were cookies and candies and wine/booze for those that imbibe. It was pleasant!
Christmas Day happened in waves. Some factions of the family would show up when they could. Some left early. Others overlapped. I got to visit nieces and nephews--even if only briefly--that I haven't seen in a couple of years. Dinner consisted of ham, mashed potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, applesauce, peas, rolls, deviled eggs, and I forget what else. I just know that I left the table feeling absolutely stuffed!! (My sister is a good cook!) After dinner, we retired to the living room to open gifts.
The only "downer" to the whole occasion is the fact that my niece's husband has been diagnosed with terminal cancer. At their request, we didn't talk about that except in grace before dinner where it was declared that, no matter the future, nothing could take away our happiness and memories of the day.
Santa Claus was really good to me this year! I got a brand new sewing machine from my daughter, and my sister (who always supplies me with gorgeous sweatshirts) gave me two more AND came up with a pair of britches that just happened to fit!!!!!!
I hope they liked the gifts I gave them. I just bought gift cards, basically...but then, there was the family tree. Meg worked on it for weeks, with input from me. It was a framed tree word print that she does as part of her business. I chose the design and colors, plus the mat and frame. Meg did the rest. It's a one-of-a-kind gift. Shari doesn't need something else to put on her walls, but I thought this was special. (Apparently, so did many of the family members who were in attendance....looking and looking at it, searching for their names. Thank God we didn't leave anyone out, including an unborn child!)
Yesterday, I went to Shari's workplace with her for a short errand that she needed to run, then we met her husband for lunch at Hooters. There, I got to see my brother-in-law's dementia-related obsessive behavior first-hand. Too much to go into here. Suffice it to say that he just gushed about the food, the service, the manager, and his own propensity to leave big tips. I left for home from there so that I could be home before dark and not leave the cat alone another day.
My car performed magnificently. Not sure how much longer that will happen. My bro-in-law was on good behavior, so there was no tension (that I could see). I got home in good time and in fine shape, and found the cat in her hiding place, so all was well.
Christmas this year seemed "iffy" at first to me, but turned out nicely. I came home tired but happy!
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Angels!
If you have ever had to supervise the work of others, you will understand what a joy it is to find someone who does things that need to be done without being told. I have been blessed with one of those. I'm no supervisor, but I DO have a family friend who has helped me immeasurably and needs no direction from me.
James Nash, thank you. Simply, thank you. :)
James Nash, thank you. Simply, thank you. :)
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Christmas Foreplay
'Twas the week before Christmas,
And all through the home,
The spirit was missing,
Wherever I roam.
(My apologies to Clement C. Moore!)
Every year, there are a number of things that all come together to create what we know as "the Christmas spirit". We decorate our homes; make a big deal of putting up the Christmas tree as a family activity; make gift lists; Christmas shop; go to parties; bake cookies and make candy; wrap presents; threaten our small children that Santa won't come if they don't behave; watch Christmas classic movies on television; plan for our family traditions; and wait/hope for the weather to cooperate with our travel plans and expectations of whatever kind of weather we expect for the season. In short, we exhaust ourselves for a month out of the year in the name of the Christmas spirit. I call it Christmas foreplay. If any of the requirements are missing, we have trouble getting in the mood. Kind of like sex, you know? And the climax, of course, happens on the day of December 25th, when it is all over. Bang! Done. Only the garbage men who pick up all of the wrappings and packaging get the dregs when it's over.
This year represents my 66th Christmas. I've had one or two in southern California, one in Florida, one in Japan, and all of the rest in Illinois and Indiana with my family as it was in any given year. Some were great. Some were good. Some were, let's just say, experiences where new traditions had to be created. Sometimes, it is difficult to get into the spirit because some of the foreplay is missing. This year is one of those. Yes, it is cold enough. Yes, there is plenty of snow on the ground. (I'm sorry...seeing Christmas lights decorating palm trees in Florida just seemed a bit incongruous to me.) I've shopped and cooked and gotten crazy...but...my family won't be here, nor will I be with them.
My daughter and family are going to Florida to be with my son-in-law's Russian parents and Megan's father and stepmother for Christmas. I was invited to go, too....but...when the invitation was originally given, I didn't feel welcome by the circumstances (long story)...and when the welcome mat came out for real, I had already committed to another situation. I don't regret that they are going because I think the grandchildren will love going to Disney World and soaking in the sunshine. I also believe that the adults being visited will enjoy (and be exhausted by) the visit. What I DO regret is that my happy little dreamy expectations of the perfect Christmas will be different...again...this year. (I fear that has changed permanently. I just have to decide for myself if I'm going to take part in it.)
So, what part of foreplay is missing? For years, Meg and I--and whatever other parts of the family were living here at the moment--went to the 11 PM candlelight service at my church on Christmas Eve, then came home to a midnight breakfast and opening our stockings, leaving the gifts for morning. The Christmas Eve services at my church are absolutely gorgeous, with exquisite music and dimmed lighting and candles held on high at the end. Uplifting! I haven't been able to attend that service since my grandchildren started living with their father. (That is, I couldn't attend if I wanted to be with them.)
This year, no one will be here at Christmas. Oh, Meg and the family will be here for a few hours on the 19th, on their way to FL. I will be in IL with my sister's family for the holiday. I did put up the Christmas tree yesterday, wondering why...but I didn't want to feel like the Scrooge that I thought my mother was being when she decided just to put up a tiny little hint of a tree on a table when her kids grew up and started their own traditions. (Putting up the tree alone is sacrilege in my house. No fun to do it alone!) I have done maybe a quarter of the house decorating that I normally would--which is okay because my house is tiny.
Perhaps it's my age and inability to get around well, but I just haven't had enough foreplay to get in the mood. I lack the Christmas spirit this year. Mercifully, it hasn't affected my shopping. (Got that done in record time!)
But here is the reality of it all: as the Grinch found out, Christmas will happen with or without all of the trappings. It's in our hearts and can't be stopped. If I were in a concentration camp being tortured by enemies, Christmas would still be Christmas...in my heart. Many years ago, when I was in high school, I got into an altercation at the Christmas dinner table with my brother-in-law over his nagging treatment of his small daughter. I left the table in a huff and went up to my bedroom because I had dared to breech family protocol with retaliation to his angry words. Awhile later, my grandfather came up to my room to say, "Don't let this ruin your Christmas." My response to him was, "Oh, Popo...nothing can spoil Christmas!" I meant it then, and I mean it now. The foreplay may not be there while the expectations are, but the day isn't about us. It is a day to celebrate the birth of a man who changed the world forever, and if we are so wrapped up in the foreplay, we don't get it. Strip away the layers and get back to the "reason for the season".
That's what I'm trying to do!
And all through the home,
The spirit was missing,
Wherever I roam.
(My apologies to Clement C. Moore!)
Every year, there are a number of things that all come together to create what we know as "the Christmas spirit". We decorate our homes; make a big deal of putting up the Christmas tree as a family activity; make gift lists; Christmas shop; go to parties; bake cookies and make candy; wrap presents; threaten our small children that Santa won't come if they don't behave; watch Christmas classic movies on television; plan for our family traditions; and wait/hope for the weather to cooperate with our travel plans and expectations of whatever kind of weather we expect for the season. In short, we exhaust ourselves for a month out of the year in the name of the Christmas spirit. I call it Christmas foreplay. If any of the requirements are missing, we have trouble getting in the mood. Kind of like sex, you know? And the climax, of course, happens on the day of December 25th, when it is all over. Bang! Done. Only the garbage men who pick up all of the wrappings and packaging get the dregs when it's over.
This year represents my 66th Christmas. I've had one or two in southern California, one in Florida, one in Japan, and all of the rest in Illinois and Indiana with my family as it was in any given year. Some were great. Some were good. Some were, let's just say, experiences where new traditions had to be created. Sometimes, it is difficult to get into the spirit because some of the foreplay is missing. This year is one of those. Yes, it is cold enough. Yes, there is plenty of snow on the ground. (I'm sorry...seeing Christmas lights decorating palm trees in Florida just seemed a bit incongruous to me.) I've shopped and cooked and gotten crazy...but...my family won't be here, nor will I be with them.
My daughter and family are going to Florida to be with my son-in-law's Russian parents and Megan's father and stepmother for Christmas. I was invited to go, too....but...when the invitation was originally given, I didn't feel welcome by the circumstances (long story)...and when the welcome mat came out for real, I had already committed to another situation. I don't regret that they are going because I think the grandchildren will love going to Disney World and soaking in the sunshine. I also believe that the adults being visited will enjoy (and be exhausted by) the visit. What I DO regret is that my happy little dreamy expectations of the perfect Christmas will be different...again...this year. (I fear that has changed permanently. I just have to decide for myself if I'm going to take part in it.)
So, what part of foreplay is missing? For years, Meg and I--and whatever other parts of the family were living here at the moment--went to the 11 PM candlelight service at my church on Christmas Eve, then came home to a midnight breakfast and opening our stockings, leaving the gifts for morning. The Christmas Eve services at my church are absolutely gorgeous, with exquisite music and dimmed lighting and candles held on high at the end. Uplifting! I haven't been able to attend that service since my grandchildren started living with their father. (That is, I couldn't attend if I wanted to be with them.)
This year, no one will be here at Christmas. Oh, Meg and the family will be here for a few hours on the 19th, on their way to FL. I will be in IL with my sister's family for the holiday. I did put up the Christmas tree yesterday, wondering why...but I didn't want to feel like the Scrooge that I thought my mother was being when she decided just to put up a tiny little hint of a tree on a table when her kids grew up and started their own traditions. (Putting up the tree alone is sacrilege in my house. No fun to do it alone!) I have done maybe a quarter of the house decorating that I normally would--which is okay because my house is tiny.
Perhaps it's my age and inability to get around well, but I just haven't had enough foreplay to get in the mood. I lack the Christmas spirit this year. Mercifully, it hasn't affected my shopping. (Got that done in record time!)
But here is the reality of it all: as the Grinch found out, Christmas will happen with or without all of the trappings. It's in our hearts and can't be stopped. If I were in a concentration camp being tortured by enemies, Christmas would still be Christmas...in my heart. Many years ago, when I was in high school, I got into an altercation at the Christmas dinner table with my brother-in-law over his nagging treatment of his small daughter. I left the table in a huff and went up to my bedroom because I had dared to breech family protocol with retaliation to his angry words. Awhile later, my grandfather came up to my room to say, "Don't let this ruin your Christmas." My response to him was, "Oh, Popo...nothing can spoil Christmas!" I meant it then, and I mean it now. The foreplay may not be there while the expectations are, but the day isn't about us. It is a day to celebrate the birth of a man who changed the world forever, and if we are so wrapped up in the foreplay, we don't get it. Strip away the layers and get back to the "reason for the season".
That's what I'm trying to do!
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Mission of Mercy
My daughter Megan, her husband Denis, and the two grandchildren have been planning a trip to Florida for the holidays for many months. Denis's Russian parents fell in love with Florida when they visited last winter--more specifically Vero Beach, which is where Megan's father and stepmother live. In fact, when they decided to vacation in the US again this winter, they decided to go ONLY to Florida...not to the Midwest where the family is. If Megan and Denis wanted to see them, they would have to visit Florida. (Not a bad idea, I guess.) It has long been The Plan for Luda and Sergey to immigrate to the US...but now the elder Shchepetovs have decided that they prefer the warmer climes. Which is okay, I guess, except that they really don't speak English well, would need jobs to support themselves, and there is no large settlement of Russian-speaking immigrants in Florida like there is in the northern suburbs of Chicago where Megan and Denis live. Luda and Sergey have not experienced either the Midwest OR Florida during summer, so they really don't have a good picture of what either place is like during that season. I'm not sure that they totally get what they are asking for...
They were offered to stay in a sort of "loaner" trailer home in the same court where Meg's father is. They arrived last week, with Joe and Sharon (Megan's paternal parents) meeting them at the airport and supplying them with the trailer--which meant cleaning and stocking it some before they got there. The McNarys also made arrangements for a rental car for the Russian guests, which turned into a bit of a fiasco, but 'twas done. (So much for their ability to be independent in America!) Megan and Denis planned to drive straight through to be there late in the day this next Friday. All plans had been made accordingly.
Okay...so...Meg's father (Joe) had a bout with gall stones that took him to the ER one night this past week. Then he came down with a stomach bug...then ended up back in the hospital with gall stones AND kidney stones a day or two later. (I might not have those in the right order.) The hospital admitted him, but since he wasn't being a very "patient" patient, they discharged him to go home, same evening. Needless to say, he's been feeling pretty punk and just barely on his feet. Meantime, just yesterday, his wife came down with the stomach bug that had her in the bathroom every 15 minutes. (Are you following me, so far?)
Last evening, Luda (Denis's mother) decided that she needed medical attention. She had developed a blind spot in one eye. Apparently she at first thought she had just gotten some lotion in her eye, but the blind spot kept getting bigger as the day wore on, so a trip to the ER was required, and Joe was required to drive them because Sergey had been drinking. When I heard about it, it was already after 9:00 PM EST. Joe reported that Sergey wasn't wearing many clothes (no one is quite sure what that meant) and that he hadn't taken his BP meds...complications, I'm sure.
Hospitals have their own language, and that language doesn't translate well to people who don't speak it--even people who speak English. For those who don't, it can be disastrous. In short order, Joe called to have Denis translate over the phone--from his mother to the hospital personnel to Joe, and back again. Then the issue of insurance came up. Sergey didn't want the hospital to do any procedures until he had permission from his Russian insurance carrier...so suddenly, Meg and Denis are trying to put International Minutes on the phone they shipped to FL for his parents to use. From my vantage point on Instant Messenger with Meg, it sounded like an absolute circus!
Luda was given a CT scan. I assume they were looking for a stroke or brain bleed. That came back clear. Then they transferred her to a hospital by ambulance 20 miles away. It was determined that she has a partially-detached retina in the affected eye and will need surgery. But...true to my experience with the ruptured brain aneurysm AND the heart attack, it is never a good idea to have a medical emergency on the weekend. They eventually released Luda to go home but she has to return tomorrow...probably for surgery. But not before Joe took Sergey home for more clothes and his meds.
I stayed up with Meg on a vigil of sorts, just to know what was going on, but along about 2:30 AM, I decided I needed to hit the sack. She left me an email somewhere along about 4-something-AM (IL time) to say that the decision had been made for Denis to fly down today. It needed to be, if only for him be be Chief Translator. Still, it leaves Meg to make the rest of the trip plans alone. We're working on that. Plans are changing to make it a bit easier...
There are lessons to be learned from this. Lots of them. I won't list them now because they should be obvious to anyone who has ever been away from home when tragedy hits. Denis has just landed in Orlando as I typed this. Godspeed, Deniska! Your family will follow in a few days! Take care of your mama!
They were offered to stay in a sort of "loaner" trailer home in the same court where Meg's father is. They arrived last week, with Joe and Sharon (Megan's paternal parents) meeting them at the airport and supplying them with the trailer--which meant cleaning and stocking it some before they got there. The McNarys also made arrangements for a rental car for the Russian guests, which turned into a bit of a fiasco, but 'twas done. (So much for their ability to be independent in America!) Megan and Denis planned to drive straight through to be there late in the day this next Friday. All plans had been made accordingly.
Okay...so...Meg's father (Joe) had a bout with gall stones that took him to the ER one night this past week. Then he came down with a stomach bug...then ended up back in the hospital with gall stones AND kidney stones a day or two later. (I might not have those in the right order.) The hospital admitted him, but since he wasn't being a very "patient" patient, they discharged him to go home, same evening. Needless to say, he's been feeling pretty punk and just barely on his feet. Meantime, just yesterday, his wife came down with the stomach bug that had her in the bathroom every 15 minutes. (Are you following me, so far?)
Last evening, Luda (Denis's mother) decided that she needed medical attention. She had developed a blind spot in one eye. Apparently she at first thought she had just gotten some lotion in her eye, but the blind spot kept getting bigger as the day wore on, so a trip to the ER was required, and Joe was required to drive them because Sergey had been drinking. When I heard about it, it was already after 9:00 PM EST. Joe reported that Sergey wasn't wearing many clothes (no one is quite sure what that meant) and that he hadn't taken his BP meds...complications, I'm sure.
Hospitals have their own language, and that language doesn't translate well to people who don't speak it--even people who speak English. For those who don't, it can be disastrous. In short order, Joe called to have Denis translate over the phone--from his mother to the hospital personnel to Joe, and back again. Then the issue of insurance came up. Sergey didn't want the hospital to do any procedures until he had permission from his Russian insurance carrier...so suddenly, Meg and Denis are trying to put International Minutes on the phone they shipped to FL for his parents to use. From my vantage point on Instant Messenger with Meg, it sounded like an absolute circus!
Luda was given a CT scan. I assume they were looking for a stroke or brain bleed. That came back clear. Then they transferred her to a hospital by ambulance 20 miles away. It was determined that she has a partially-detached retina in the affected eye and will need surgery. But...true to my experience with the ruptured brain aneurysm AND the heart attack, it is never a good idea to have a medical emergency on the weekend. They eventually released Luda to go home but she has to return tomorrow...probably for surgery. But not before Joe took Sergey home for more clothes and his meds.
I stayed up with Meg on a vigil of sorts, just to know what was going on, but along about 2:30 AM, I decided I needed to hit the sack. She left me an email somewhere along about 4-something-AM (IL time) to say that the decision had been made for Denis to fly down today. It needed to be, if only for him be be Chief Translator. Still, it leaves Meg to make the rest of the trip plans alone. We're working on that. Plans are changing to make it a bit easier...
There are lessons to be learned from this. Lots of them. I won't list them now because they should be obvious to anyone who has ever been away from home when tragedy hits. Denis has just landed in Orlando as I typed this. Godspeed, Deniska! Your family will follow in a few days! Take care of your mama!
Saturday, December 14, 2013
That's Where My Money Goes...
October turned out to be an expensive month for me, with a furnace repair that I hadn't budgeted for and my car insurance premium due. So much for the discretionary income for that month.
Then came November, with a trip up to north of Chicago to be with my family for Thanksgiving...and that visit carried over a week into December. Two different months; two different pay dates. Plus, thanks to an inheritance of sorts and the generosity of my sister, I came into a little extra money that I saw was going to help me get through Christmas! I was able to get the oil changed in my car and do what was necessary to do justice to my trip up north, plus do a tad more than usual for gift-giving, etc.
My Christmas shopping is now done. I'm back to having to watch the pennies. So where did my money go??
#1. My grandson Ryan's birthday is in November. I had sent him a little something for his 10th b-day but felt that I still needed to get him a little something more. Ever the crafty one, he is totally aware that grandparents (are supposed to) spoil their grandchildren. He takes advantage of that. He has a friend who has a cool pair of purple Nike shoes, and Ryan had an eye for those. Kind of a keeping-up-with-the-Joneses thing. Thus, he and I made a run to a Nike outlet store in the Gurnee Mills shopping center, hoping to find them. We looked and looked, called Mom for a clue what they were labeled, asked for assistance--all to no avail. But he did find another pair of Nikes that he liked, so we got those. $75. I know, I know....$75 for a pair of shoes that he will tear up and outgrow in short order...but...but...he's my only grandson, ya know? His custodial parents would never buy those for him, but Grandma would!
#2. A former student of mine and her husband and family have become good friends of mine. They have helped me out immeasurably, and I have tried to be sympathetic to the fact that they are raising four kids on disability pay. Thus, when I found out that they were out of TP and other essentials, I contributed a chunk just to help them along. Truth be known, I don't have enough money to repay them for all they have done for me!
#3. My son-in-law had seen ads on TV for IHOP's new crepe cakes. He wanted to go there, so I decided to treat us all to a meal out. (They don't eat out often.) We had a friendly server and enjoyed our meal. Money well spent!
#4. Another one of my former students has a cat that had five kittens. Cute as they can be. (I keep up with her on Facebook.) Then, one by one, the kittens began to die. After three were gone and the remaining two seemed lethargic, a number of people were suggesting that she take them to a veterinarian, but she didn't comment, and I knew why. She doesn't even have health insurance for herself! No way could this mother of two who is also taking college classes justify taking kittens to a vet without knowing what expenses could be incurred. Well...I couldn't sit back and let those kittens die without medical attention, so I volunteered to pay for it. She took me up on it! She called around to various vet offices and found the cheapest one (that gave her a deal--thanks, Tonya!) and I met her there. Thankfully, the problem seemed to be nutritional. I opted for some kitty-antibiotics, just to be safe. The total bill was less than $70. But the kittens are doing better!
#5. Christmas shopping. My family is going to Florida for the holiday this year, so my shopping has been limited. I will only get a few hours with them before they depart, and they are mostly getting cash from me for the vacation. Still, the money is about run out. I still have to have food for the rest of the month, and gas for a trip to my sister's and back for the holiday. I'm fairly happy with what I have gotten. Stocking stuffers, plus one gift per person to open and an envelope with $$.
So here's the deal: had I NOT spent all of that money, I would have more in my own larder, but I wouldn't be any happier. When my favorite uncle's wife died, I asked him what he had learned about life, and he said, "If you have enough money to spend $5, spend $5! Enjoy life while you can!" I am older now but I do understand what he meant. It gives me pleasure to help others with what God has given me. I try not to be stupid about it, but if I saved two kittens from dying, a family from not having the necessities of life...if I have some thoughtful gifts for my family and friends and pleased my son-in-law and grandson...my life is the richer. God provides.
(And just to prove my point, the whole time I've been writing this, the husband of my former student/friend has been out snow-blowing my driveway and walk, plus salting and cleaning off my car. What a blessing!)
Then came November, with a trip up to north of Chicago to be with my family for Thanksgiving...and that visit carried over a week into December. Two different months; two different pay dates. Plus, thanks to an inheritance of sorts and the generosity of my sister, I came into a little extra money that I saw was going to help me get through Christmas! I was able to get the oil changed in my car and do what was necessary to do justice to my trip up north, plus do a tad more than usual for gift-giving, etc.
My Christmas shopping is now done. I'm back to having to watch the pennies. So where did my money go??
#1. My grandson Ryan's birthday is in November. I had sent him a little something for his 10th b-day but felt that I still needed to get him a little something more. Ever the crafty one, he is totally aware that grandparents (are supposed to) spoil their grandchildren. He takes advantage of that. He has a friend who has a cool pair of purple Nike shoes, and Ryan had an eye for those. Kind of a keeping-up-with-the-Joneses thing. Thus, he and I made a run to a Nike outlet store in the Gurnee Mills shopping center, hoping to find them. We looked and looked, called Mom for a clue what they were labeled, asked for assistance--all to no avail. But he did find another pair of Nikes that he liked, so we got those. $75. I know, I know....$75 for a pair of shoes that he will tear up and outgrow in short order...but...but...he's my only grandson, ya know? His custodial parents would never buy those for him, but Grandma would!
#2. A former student of mine and her husband and family have become good friends of mine. They have helped me out immeasurably, and I have tried to be sympathetic to the fact that they are raising four kids on disability pay. Thus, when I found out that they were out of TP and other essentials, I contributed a chunk just to help them along. Truth be known, I don't have enough money to repay them for all they have done for me!
#3. My son-in-law had seen ads on TV for IHOP's new crepe cakes. He wanted to go there, so I decided to treat us all to a meal out. (They don't eat out often.) We had a friendly server and enjoyed our meal. Money well spent!
#4. Another one of my former students has a cat that had five kittens. Cute as they can be. (I keep up with her on Facebook.) Then, one by one, the kittens began to die. After three were gone and the remaining two seemed lethargic, a number of people were suggesting that she take them to a veterinarian, but she didn't comment, and I knew why. She doesn't even have health insurance for herself! No way could this mother of two who is also taking college classes justify taking kittens to a vet without knowing what expenses could be incurred. Well...I couldn't sit back and let those kittens die without medical attention, so I volunteered to pay for it. She took me up on it! She called around to various vet offices and found the cheapest one (that gave her a deal--thanks, Tonya!) and I met her there. Thankfully, the problem seemed to be nutritional. I opted for some kitty-antibiotics, just to be safe. The total bill was less than $70. But the kittens are doing better!
#5. Christmas shopping. My family is going to Florida for the holiday this year, so my shopping has been limited. I will only get a few hours with them before they depart, and they are mostly getting cash from me for the vacation. Still, the money is about run out. I still have to have food for the rest of the month, and gas for a trip to my sister's and back for the holiday. I'm fairly happy with what I have gotten. Stocking stuffers, plus one gift per person to open and an envelope with $$.
So here's the deal: had I NOT spent all of that money, I would have more in my own larder, but I wouldn't be any happier. When my favorite uncle's wife died, I asked him what he had learned about life, and he said, "If you have enough money to spend $5, spend $5! Enjoy life while you can!" I am older now but I do understand what he meant. It gives me pleasure to help others with what God has given me. I try not to be stupid about it, but if I saved two kittens from dying, a family from not having the necessities of life...if I have some thoughtful gifts for my family and friends and pleased my son-in-law and grandson...my life is the richer. God provides.
(And just to prove my point, the whole time I've been writing this, the husband of my former student/friend has been out snow-blowing my driveway and walk, plus salting and cleaning off my car. What a blessing!)
Friday, December 13, 2013
What Sisterhood Means to Me
I started this blog entry before my sister's birthday, which was December 7th, but never finished it for a lot of reasons....so here goes.
My sister Shari was the family's first-born. She was also the first grandchild for our Armstrong grandparents. (The Covill grandparents both died before Shari was old enough to know them.) Then came Barbara, the sister that tragically died when Shari was 4 or 5. Then came me right after Barbara. None of us will ever know if/how that affected our relationship.
My sister was my leader. She took me to experiences I probably shouldn't have had because she was the brave one and I was the follower. As she grew and changed, I grew and changed with her...but not always in the same way. I can remember several times when she got sideways with Mom over an issue or two, and I told myself that, when I got to be her age, I wasn't going to do that. (Wanting a bra is the one that sticks in my mind the most.) And since I was the Goody-Two-Shoes, there were a couple of times when she got in some major trouble because I tattled on her. In retrospect, I felt bad about that, but not at the time. Oh well!
Truth be known, I admired my sister. She was pretty. She had lots of boyfriends and a nice figure. I wanted to look just like her! It just never happened....and so it was. In our stages of development, she was beyond me and I couldn't be what she was. I think there was an unspoken competition that neither of us ever recognized back then...and now no longer matters!
Except for one remaining aunt, Shari and I are all that is left of our immediate family. If I read our relationship correctly, we both feel like the sole inhabitants of a very small island. No one else knows what we endured...what we learned...as kids. No one else gets what we are made of, and wouldn't even if we tried to explain it. We aren't keeping it secret. It's just that the younger generation doesn't care so much, as if it didn't apply to them (although there will come a time when they figure it out for themselves, as Shari and I did).
My sister lives in central Illinois. I live in central Indiana. Still, we are in email contact almost daily. From that, I know that I can tell her anything and she will not judge me. I hope she also understands that I am here to listen to her, even though I'm not there every day to prop her up in her day-to-day issues with her husband with dementia. As kids, we fought endlessly. As senior citizens, we are happy to have each other. Somewhere in between, we grew up and life happened. I am thankful for that.
And I am thankful that my sister is still in my life. I love her to pieces. Guess there isn't much more to say about that!
My sister Shari was the family's first-born. She was also the first grandchild for our Armstrong grandparents. (The Covill grandparents both died before Shari was old enough to know them.) Then came Barbara, the sister that tragically died when Shari was 4 or 5. Then came me right after Barbara. None of us will ever know if/how that affected our relationship.
My sister was my leader. She took me to experiences I probably shouldn't have had because she was the brave one and I was the follower. As she grew and changed, I grew and changed with her...but not always in the same way. I can remember several times when she got sideways with Mom over an issue or two, and I told myself that, when I got to be her age, I wasn't going to do that. (Wanting a bra is the one that sticks in my mind the most.) And since I was the Goody-Two-Shoes, there were a couple of times when she got in some major trouble because I tattled on her. In retrospect, I felt bad about that, but not at the time. Oh well!
Truth be known, I admired my sister. She was pretty. She had lots of boyfriends and a nice figure. I wanted to look just like her! It just never happened....and so it was. In our stages of development, she was beyond me and I couldn't be what she was. I think there was an unspoken competition that neither of us ever recognized back then...and now no longer matters!
Except for one remaining aunt, Shari and I are all that is left of our immediate family. If I read our relationship correctly, we both feel like the sole inhabitants of a very small island. No one else knows what we endured...what we learned...as kids. No one else gets what we are made of, and wouldn't even if we tried to explain it. We aren't keeping it secret. It's just that the younger generation doesn't care so much, as if it didn't apply to them (although there will come a time when they figure it out for themselves, as Shari and I did).
My sister lives in central Illinois. I live in central Indiana. Still, we are in email contact almost daily. From that, I know that I can tell her anything and she will not judge me. I hope she also understands that I am here to listen to her, even though I'm not there every day to prop her up in her day-to-day issues with her husband with dementia. As kids, we fought endlessly. As senior citizens, we are happy to have each other. Somewhere in between, we grew up and life happened. I am thankful for that.
And I am thankful that my sister is still in my life. I love her to pieces. Guess there isn't much more to say about that!
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
We'll Have Weather, Whether or Not!
I've always found it somewhat pointless to complain about the weather because there really isn't anything that can be done about it. Most of the time, I just hope for the best--especially in the winter. Many winters, the snowy weather doesn't come until after Christmas, and the Arctic cold blasts don't happen until January. That, to me, is normal. It makes for a normal length for the season. Normal. I like normal.
This season has me worried. We--several Midwestern states--already have had measerable snowfall and single-digit temperatures in November. BEFORE Thanksgiving. This does not bode well for the rest of the season. It is barely December and not even officially winter yet, but the forecast has big snow and more single-digit-close-to-zero temperatures within the week. Suffice it to say, unless things change drastically, it's going to be a LONG winter.
In my situation, I try to stay stocked up on the things that I will need. My neighbor generally snow-plows a path up my drive and to my door. The grocery store isn't far down the road. I won't starve...but I do look forward to longer daylight. It's coming! It's coming!
This season has me worried. We--several Midwestern states--already have had measerable snowfall and single-digit temperatures in November. BEFORE Thanksgiving. This does not bode well for the rest of the season. It is barely December and not even officially winter yet, but the forecast has big snow and more single-digit-close-to-zero temperatures within the week. Suffice it to say, unless things change drastically, it's going to be a LONG winter.
In my situation, I try to stay stocked up on the things that I will need. My neighbor generally snow-plows a path up my drive and to my door. The grocery store isn't far down the road. I won't starve...but I do look forward to longer daylight. It's coming! It's coming!
Fifty Years
November 22, 1963.
Fifty years ago. I will never forget the day. The world was so very different then, yet somehow seems the same.
It was a Friday. I was a junior at Oak Park-River Forest High School in the western suburbs of Chicago. I had a date to a school dance the next night, so Mom and I were going shopping after school to buy a new dress for me to wear. I looked forward to all of that, but had to get through the school day first.
After lunch that day, I was sitting in Homeroom with the rest of Mr. Walwark's homeroom group. Homeroom was the place to go for announcements, to get your edition of the school newspaper once a week, study, or whatever. Homeroom was only 18 minutes long, so some of us just visited. Nothing special. But then one of the Spanish teachers came in the room and whispered in Mr. Walwark's ear, then both of them went out into the hall. I thought that was a bit strange. It was equally strange when Mr. Walwark returned to the room and told us that there had been reports that President Kennedy had been shot. I gasped out loud, "You're kidding!" He responded only with, "I wish I were."
There were no other details to be had. In those days, there were no classroom televisions, and my school didn't even have a public address system. Instead, there were telephones in each room that connected with the office. We, as students, were essentially cut off from what was going on outside the school walls--and would be until we could get home.
There were no cell phones in those days, and no Internet. Computers were only a faint glimpse on the horizon of the future; however, transistor radios were all the rage then. They were small and portable. They were also forbidden at school, although some students had them in their lockers. At the end of homeroom, a few students could be seen flumbling with them at their lockers, trying to get a signal to find out what news there was, but we all went to our next class devoid of information. Our school was so large that it was impossible to know which students had even heard the initial report. You can bet that the passing period was quite somber. We rushed to class.
My next class was English with Mr. Anderson. Normally a jolly fellow, Mr. Anderson wasn't smiling when we got there. We were scheduled for a test. I just wondered how well I could do on it with the worry about the fate of our nation on my mind, but I endeavored to do my best. Then, in the middle of the period (around 1:00 PM), the hallway bell mysteriously rang. I figured it was a signal of sorts and begged Mr. Anderson to call the office to find out. He humored me but there was nothing on his face to indicate anything other than what the office supposedly said: the bell had been a mistake. Please disregard.
After English, I think I had one more class, although I simply don't remember it--then the mile walk home. By this time, the news was everywhere: President John F. Kennedy was dead. Shot and killed by a sniper in Dallas, Texas, and a suspect had been arrested. The high school had decided to hold the dance the next night anyway. (Our dances always had live bands. If the dance had been canceled, the band would also have to be canceled, and it would have been difficult to get the word out to all of the ticket-holders without major problems.) Thus, Mom and I, with our hearts not in it, went shopping after supper for the new dress.
That day, the United States of America was plunged into deep shock and mourning, similar to what happened to us on September 11, 2001. People stayed home and were glued to their televisions. Downtown Oak Park was devoid of shoppers, except for Mom and me, and the store clerks that were, like the rest of the country, huddled around a TV or two that had been set up in store aisles. There was a pall over everything. We quickly picked out an acceptable outfit for the dance, then hustled home where we, too, could be close to the television.
We watched every horrid detail as it all unfolded over the next few days. The assassination of the accused assassin. The President lying in state in the Capitol; the President in the cathedral in Washington; the President's coffin placed on a caisson and carried through the streets of Washington on its way to Arlington National Cemetery. Military escorts. Military band playing dirges as they marched forward. Th riderless horse. Drum cadences that are forever burned in my memory. Watching the First Lady in all her dignity dressed in widow's "weeds", with her young children by her side, with the youngest saluting his father's casket as it moved past him. And we wept, my mother and I. My father had a second job at a milling plant and so was off making money. My sister was off raising her young family. My brother played on the floor near Mom and I, too young to really understand what was going on. I don't remember the Saturday dance at all...
Sunday, the churches were full. We sat around reading newspapers and watching TV. A channel that we were not watching accidentally broadcast, live, the shooting of Lee Harvey Oswald, the man arrested for the assassination of the president, by a sleazy nightclub owner who had weaseled his way into the crowd as Oswald was being transferred from one location to another. The event was flashed onto the channel that we were watching as breaking news. My mother, who never swore, said, "Well, I'll be damned!" I just figured that we were good to be rid of him--that he just got what was coming to him--but Mom said, "No! Now we'll never know." And she was right. To this day, the conspiracy theorists among us continue to conjecture who REALLY killed the President, doubting all of the intelligence that was gathered and the whole federal commission that was assigned to investigate. But we will never know for sure...
Everything was closed on the day of the president's funeral (Monday)--declared a National Day of Mourning--so we watched every event and cried unashamedly. I hardly remember the Saturday dance at all...
The nation's flags were at half staff for a month, a sad reminder of the tragedy of November 22nd. The rest of the world mourned with us, but...young as I was...I took it quite hard. I had participated in a mock election in social studies class three years before, and Kennedy was my man. I was a Civil Rights sympathizer and a believer that America is the greatest country on earth...yet we kill our presidents. (And others just a few years later.) It shook my faith in us, and still does. It's one thing to be attacked by terrorists from the outside but quite another to be attacked by our own. It took me a long time to get over the yhorrible events of that day and after.
I still have the Chicago Tribune from that day. It is folded and yellowed but still a testament to that day, so long ago....
Fifty years ago. I will never forget the day. The world was so very different then, yet somehow seems the same.
It was a Friday. I was a junior at Oak Park-River Forest High School in the western suburbs of Chicago. I had a date to a school dance the next night, so Mom and I were going shopping after school to buy a new dress for me to wear. I looked forward to all of that, but had to get through the school day first.
After lunch that day, I was sitting in Homeroom with the rest of Mr. Walwark's homeroom group. Homeroom was the place to go for announcements, to get your edition of the school newspaper once a week, study, or whatever. Homeroom was only 18 minutes long, so some of us just visited. Nothing special. But then one of the Spanish teachers came in the room and whispered in Mr. Walwark's ear, then both of them went out into the hall. I thought that was a bit strange. It was equally strange when Mr. Walwark returned to the room and told us that there had been reports that President Kennedy had been shot. I gasped out loud, "You're kidding!" He responded only with, "I wish I were."
There were no other details to be had. In those days, there were no classroom televisions, and my school didn't even have a public address system. Instead, there were telephones in each room that connected with the office. We, as students, were essentially cut off from what was going on outside the school walls--and would be until we could get home.
There were no cell phones in those days, and no Internet. Computers were only a faint glimpse on the horizon of the future; however, transistor radios were all the rage then. They were small and portable. They were also forbidden at school, although some students had them in their lockers. At the end of homeroom, a few students could be seen flumbling with them at their lockers, trying to get a signal to find out what news there was, but we all went to our next class devoid of information. Our school was so large that it was impossible to know which students had even heard the initial report. You can bet that the passing period was quite somber. We rushed to class.
My next class was English with Mr. Anderson. Normally a jolly fellow, Mr. Anderson wasn't smiling when we got there. We were scheduled for a test. I just wondered how well I could do on it with the worry about the fate of our nation on my mind, but I endeavored to do my best. Then, in the middle of the period (around 1:00 PM), the hallway bell mysteriously rang. I figured it was a signal of sorts and begged Mr. Anderson to call the office to find out. He humored me but there was nothing on his face to indicate anything other than what the office supposedly said: the bell had been a mistake. Please disregard.
After English, I think I had one more class, although I simply don't remember it--then the mile walk home. By this time, the news was everywhere: President John F. Kennedy was dead. Shot and killed by a sniper in Dallas, Texas, and a suspect had been arrested. The high school had decided to hold the dance the next night anyway. (Our dances always had live bands. If the dance had been canceled, the band would also have to be canceled, and it would have been difficult to get the word out to all of the ticket-holders without major problems.) Thus, Mom and I, with our hearts not in it, went shopping after supper for the new dress.
That day, the United States of America was plunged into deep shock and mourning, similar to what happened to us on September 11, 2001. People stayed home and were glued to their televisions. Downtown Oak Park was devoid of shoppers, except for Mom and me, and the store clerks that were, like the rest of the country, huddled around a TV or two that had been set up in store aisles. There was a pall over everything. We quickly picked out an acceptable outfit for the dance, then hustled home where we, too, could be close to the television.
We watched every horrid detail as it all unfolded over the next few days. The assassination of the accused assassin. The President lying in state in the Capitol; the President in the cathedral in Washington; the President's coffin placed on a caisson and carried through the streets of Washington on its way to Arlington National Cemetery. Military escorts. Military band playing dirges as they marched forward. Th riderless horse. Drum cadences that are forever burned in my memory. Watching the First Lady in all her dignity dressed in widow's "weeds", with her young children by her side, with the youngest saluting his father's casket as it moved past him. And we wept, my mother and I. My father had a second job at a milling plant and so was off making money. My sister was off raising her young family. My brother played on the floor near Mom and I, too young to really understand what was going on. I don't remember the Saturday dance at all...
Sunday, the churches were full. We sat around reading newspapers and watching TV. A channel that we were not watching accidentally broadcast, live, the shooting of Lee Harvey Oswald, the man arrested for the assassination of the president, by a sleazy nightclub owner who had weaseled his way into the crowd as Oswald was being transferred from one location to another. The event was flashed onto the channel that we were watching as breaking news. My mother, who never swore, said, "Well, I'll be damned!" I just figured that we were good to be rid of him--that he just got what was coming to him--but Mom said, "No! Now we'll never know." And she was right. To this day, the conspiracy theorists among us continue to conjecture who REALLY killed the President, doubting all of the intelligence that was gathered and the whole federal commission that was assigned to investigate. But we will never know for sure...
Everything was closed on the day of the president's funeral (Monday)--declared a National Day of Mourning--so we watched every event and cried unashamedly. I hardly remember the Saturday dance at all...
The nation's flags were at half staff for a month, a sad reminder of the tragedy of November 22nd. The rest of the world mourned with us, but...young as I was...I took it quite hard. I had participated in a mock election in social studies class three years before, and Kennedy was my man. I was a Civil Rights sympathizer and a believer that America is the greatest country on earth...yet we kill our presidents. (And others just a few years later.) It shook my faith in us, and still does. It's one thing to be attacked by terrorists from the outside but quite another to be attacked by our own. It took me a long time to get over the yhorrible events of that day and after.
I still have the Chicago Tribune from that day. It is folded and yellowed but still a testament to that day, so long ago....