Father in Heaven,
My heart is full. My life is full. I have been blessed with the best of the best. My daughter--my only child--is beautiful, intelligent, creative, and talented. My grandchildren have blessed me even more because of my undying love for them. I thank You every day of my life for them. My child doesn't always do what I think she should do, but I acknowledge that I've made my own mistakes in life, so I can't judge. Still, I am always aware that You have never left me in all of my travails, and I know You won't leave them, either, even after I am gone.
Today marks the end of a year and the beginning of a new one. My sister needs you, Father. Her life is fraught with challenges as she cares for her failing husband and children. Please give her strength and comfort. My children need you, Father, as they try to find their way in a new part of this great country. I need you, Father, as my own life changes by age in so many expected ways. Be with us every day in every way, and may we come to know Your love as an influence in what we do.
Praise be to you for our daily victories.
Amen!
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Back to Reality
My daughter/husband/ grandchildren--and cat-- are now winging their way over the northern climes of our great country as I type. All of their worldly possessions are on a moving van somewhere between Illinois and Seattle, as is their car. Through the wonders of technology, I could be in touch with them until they were put in "airplane mode" and am tracking their flight. I won't be settled until they are at their day's destination: Microsoft corporate housing in the Seattle area. After several weeks of discombobulation, just being in a place they can call home until they can find where they want to live will be a relief. They will be exhausted. They won't be able to find things. They will be impatient. I am praying for them. Please join me. They need all the help they can get!
I'm not at all happy about these changes, for selfish reasons. Our nomadic life as Navy dependents when I was a kid left a mark on me. It wasn't all bad. I think I lived much of my life hoping that others would take care of me, but my reality was that I was on my own. I learned, through divorce and experience, that I was stronger than even I knew. I still am...to my own detriment, sometimes. Do I think I am always in control? HA! Not even a little. But I keep trying. That's just human.
So...as the winter moves from the holidays into reality, I am digging in to make life as palatable as I can with what I have. I ain't much, baby, but I'm all I've got!
I'm not at all happy about these changes, for selfish reasons. Our nomadic life as Navy dependents when I was a kid left a mark on me. It wasn't all bad. I think I lived much of my life hoping that others would take care of me, but my reality was that I was on my own. I learned, through divorce and experience, that I was stronger than even I knew. I still am...to my own detriment, sometimes. Do I think I am always in control? HA! Not even a little. But I keep trying. That's just human.
So...as the winter moves from the holidays into reality, I am digging in to make life as palatable as I can with what I have. I ain't much, baby, but I'm all I've got!
Sunday, December 27, 2015
The Music...Yes
The day: December 24, 2015. Christmas Eve.
The situation: It is warm outside...60+ degrees....with no hope of snow in sight.
The mood: Hopeful but not at all Christmasy.
My family--daughter, son-in-law, and two grandchildren--arrived the day before. All of their worldly belongings are packed on a moving van somewhere. They've had no Christmas tree, and any Christmas presents that they receive must be something that can go through the airport or be shipped later as they prepare to depart the Midwest to move to the Seattle area by air. I feel grim. All I can offer them is cash and hope, but it doesn't feel right. It isn't enough. The holiday seems hollow.
The only stipulation I had for the day, other than good food, was for us all to attend a candlelight service at church at 9:00 PM. (There were several other services but this was the last one of the day that would have choir and orchestra.) I was so tired, I came close to canceling out on that, but a few minute's rest helped. Oh, how very happy I am that we went! It changed everything for me!
In the sanctuary, there was our choir and an orchestra, invited by our hugely talented Music Director. With the lights behind the cross and the gorgeous music, it became a time of peace amid the turmoil. Peace...beauty...moments so seriously needed to make Christmas seem like Christmas. The service didn't disappoint! We lit our candles at the end and sang Silent Night. Oh, the happy peace of the night! What a difference it made in my attitude!
It is the music that makes all the difference. Take away music and the world stops.
I don't know if the service had the same effect on the rest of my family. All I know is that it made it all happen for me. Our meager gifts for each other the next morning paled against the backdrop of Peace On Earth and knowing that we were all together. I hope life and love survive the holidays. I'm just so very grateful that I could share this Christmas Eve with my family. God bless us. every one!
The situation: It is warm outside...60+ degrees....with no hope of snow in sight.
The mood: Hopeful but not at all Christmasy.
My family--daughter, son-in-law, and two grandchildren--arrived the day before. All of their worldly belongings are packed on a moving van somewhere. They've had no Christmas tree, and any Christmas presents that they receive must be something that can go through the airport or be shipped later as they prepare to depart the Midwest to move to the Seattle area by air. I feel grim. All I can offer them is cash and hope, but it doesn't feel right. It isn't enough. The holiday seems hollow.
The only stipulation I had for the day, other than good food, was for us all to attend a candlelight service at church at 9:00 PM. (There were several other services but this was the last one of the day that would have choir and orchestra.) I was so tired, I came close to canceling out on that, but a few minute's rest helped. Oh, how very happy I am that we went! It changed everything for me!
In the sanctuary, there was our choir and an orchestra, invited by our hugely talented Music Director. With the lights behind the cross and the gorgeous music, it became a time of peace amid the turmoil. Peace...beauty...moments so seriously needed to make Christmas seem like Christmas. The service didn't disappoint! We lit our candles at the end and sang Silent Night. Oh, the happy peace of the night! What a difference it made in my attitude!
It is the music that makes all the difference. Take away music and the world stops.
I don't know if the service had the same effect on the rest of my family. All I know is that it made it all happen for me. Our meager gifts for each other the next morning paled against the backdrop of Peace On Earth and knowing that we were all together. I hope life and love survive the holidays. I'm just so very grateful that I could share this Christmas Eve with my family. God bless us. every one!
Saturday, December 19, 2015
Our Lady of the Angels
I started this plog post on December 2nd while still up at my daughter's, but I have decided to finish it.
Yesterday's date in 1958, a horrible tragedy happened in Chicago. A Catholic school--Our Lady of the Angels-- caught fire and 92 students and three nuns were killed. They never had a chance.
At the time, I was a relatively new 6th grade student in Oak Park, IL, the first suburb west of Chicago on what would become Interstate 290. The fire occurred at the end of the day--I think a Friday--and all of the Chicago television news was full of it. I was a kid. I was a kid in school. I soaked it all up as if a sponge...a sponge that could do nothing but watch and feel and hurt for the families involved.
The fire apparently started in a trash barrel in the basement at the foot of the wooden staircase. The staircase provided a perfect updraft for the heat and flames. Other things took place, as well. People made mistakes. In short order, the main route of escape (the stairs) was destroyed by fire. The fire alarm wasn't rung early enough; the fire department was stalled for minutes by a locked gate; nothing went well, and kids died. Lots of kids.
The next Monday, just after lunch, the fire alarm in my own school building sounded. Very somber students marched dutifully out of the school. It was a drill, but it was a drill with a purpose. I was in what would now be considered middle school, yet I can't remember a single sound coming out of the kids as we, for once, did what we were supposed to do.
Years later, when I became a teacher in my own right, I was teaching in a very old school building with wooden floors and wooden staircases. At least one fire drill each year would block off the main staircase, and we would be directed to go down the fire escape. It wasn't perfect but at least it was a plan. Every year thereafter, in all of the places I've taught in which I was responsible for kids, I told them the story of the Our Lady of the Angels School fire so that they might know that fire drills are serious business. Did they get it? Probably not. Never sinks in until it happens to you, right?
As a result of that horrible fire, many national laws regarding school construction were made to protect children. I can't begin to tell what they all are. I do know that wooden staircases had to be enclosed with doors, top and bottom, to help prevent updrafts, and that hallway doors, etc., could not be "stoppered" open. (Some schools have doors that are held open by magnets, but the minute a fire alarm is sounded, the magnets automatically shut off and the doors close.)
I know that today's children are much better protected than the kids of my generation, yet they don't seem any less scared (due to circumstances about active shootings, etc.) The survivors of the OLA fire would be relatively my age now. I'm sure they will never forget that day. I want them to know that I haven't, either...and I wasn't even there. God bless you all!
Yesterday's date in 1958, a horrible tragedy happened in Chicago. A Catholic school--Our Lady of the Angels-- caught fire and 92 students and three nuns were killed. They never had a chance.
At the time, I was a relatively new 6th grade student in Oak Park, IL, the first suburb west of Chicago on what would become Interstate 290. The fire occurred at the end of the day--I think a Friday--and all of the Chicago television news was full of it. I was a kid. I was a kid in school. I soaked it all up as if a sponge...a sponge that could do nothing but watch and feel and hurt for the families involved.
The fire apparently started in a trash barrel in the basement at the foot of the wooden staircase. The staircase provided a perfect updraft for the heat and flames. Other things took place, as well. People made mistakes. In short order, the main route of escape (the stairs) was destroyed by fire. The fire alarm wasn't rung early enough; the fire department was stalled for minutes by a locked gate; nothing went well, and kids died. Lots of kids.
The next Monday, just after lunch, the fire alarm in my own school building sounded. Very somber students marched dutifully out of the school. It was a drill, but it was a drill with a purpose. I was in what would now be considered middle school, yet I can't remember a single sound coming out of the kids as we, for once, did what we were supposed to do.
Years later, when I became a teacher in my own right, I was teaching in a very old school building with wooden floors and wooden staircases. At least one fire drill each year would block off the main staircase, and we would be directed to go down the fire escape. It wasn't perfect but at least it was a plan. Every year thereafter, in all of the places I've taught in which I was responsible for kids, I told them the story of the Our Lady of the Angels School fire so that they might know that fire drills are serious business. Did they get it? Probably not. Never sinks in until it happens to you, right?
As a result of that horrible fire, many national laws regarding school construction were made to protect children. I can't begin to tell what they all are. I do know that wooden staircases had to be enclosed with doors, top and bottom, to help prevent updrafts, and that hallway doors, etc., could not be "stoppered" open. (Some schools have doors that are held open by magnets, but the minute a fire alarm is sounded, the magnets automatically shut off and the doors close.)
I know that today's children are much better protected than the kids of my generation, yet they don't seem any less scared (due to circumstances about active shootings, etc.) The survivors of the OLA fire would be relatively my age now. I'm sure they will never forget that day. I want them to know that I haven't, either...and I wasn't even there. God bless you all!
Friday, December 18, 2015
I Am Lost
My mother was my best friend. As a young wife and mother, I went to her endlessly to complain about my then-spouse....how he wasn't helping with our child or with the inside home chores, even though we both worked outside the home full-time. For a long while, Mom's response to me was, "What makes you think you are any different than the rest of us?" What she meant was that it was always thus for women and probably always would be.
But things were different for my generation. Raised by the Greatest Generation's dreams that their children have more than they had, we Baby-Boomers were the first to have the contraceptive pill; the first to have legal abortions; the first to have women who went to college to have careers before/while they had children; the first in which women faced high divorce rates which demanded the careers to support themselves and their children; and the first during which couples recognized that, in order to have all of the things that their parents had achieved through their hard work and sacrifices, both husband and wife would need to be working. I struggled with it because I was raised with one set of values but was living with the new ones. In a sense, I resented it. We were on the cusp of change, not an integral part of either generation's values. What I wanted was to be a stay-at-home mother like my own mom. What I got was the need to work, even though my husband made good money. It seemed we were always in credit card debt. With a child to care for, I felt that going back to work after maternity leave was a major complication of life. Now I had a house and housework, a baby, AND a full-time job. I wasn't one of those women who wanted it all.
In spite of everything, there were values that I just came to know as part of what was right in life, and the main one (for me) was that family came before all. I didn't know much of my father's family. He grew up in poverty as the youngest of nine kids. His parents both died before I was born. His sisters and brothers had scattered, and I do think he distanced himself from them because he was working hard to make something of himself. My mother's parents, however, took him on as their very own son, and he was as much a son to them as anyone could possibly be. Wherever we went with the Navy, we always came back to the family farm outside of Streator, Illinois. Home. After the war and Navy years, we were never more than three hours from there. At the last, we were within an hour-and-a-half...and then my parents retired to that farm when it was their turn.
And then it was my turn. As a young married woman/mother, I could never imagine myself being far from my folks. Holidays and special occasions were always spent at the farm, shared with my parents and the rest of my family with traditions and love and good times. Generally, we never lived far away. In my then-husband's last position in Illinois, we were only 25 miles away. Things happened. We moved to Indiana, a scarce ten miles from his parents, but still only four hours away from my own. He and I split up. Meg and I moved to Plainfied, IN, still within four hours of home. Then she grew up, got married and had babies. Never in my wildest imagination did I think I would ever be far from her or my grandchildren. I would never move out of reach of them and never thought that they'd move away from me.
I was wrong.
First, they relocated to Muncie, Indiana. I cried for a few days but since Muncie is only 90 minutes up the interstate from where I live, I managed.
Then her marriage broke up. She and the children moved in with me, unannounced. We eventually remodeled the house to make bedrooms for everyone.
Not long thereafter, she met the new love of her life, and--in a poorly handled set of circumstances--gave unannounced and immediate custody of the children to their father and drove off to California where she married her new beau. That threw me into a serious depression that I never really got over. I wept constantly and some days didn't even get out of bed.
The children were still in Muncie for awhile. I was allowed to have them about one weekend a month. That worked. In the meantime, I also was the flight escort to take the children to California to see their mother and stepfather a couple of times a year.
Then, the children's family moved to the northeastern suburbs of Chicago where their stepmom had procured a nice position with Carthage College, and their father found work that was right up his alley. They rented and eventually bought a really nice old house in Zion, IL, near the Lake Michigan lakefront. The drive up was four hours in good circumstances. For awhile, I was still allowed to have the children for a weekend about once a month. And then my daughter and son-in-law relocated to the northeastern suburbs of Chicago also, just to be close to the children. And they were. They didn't miss the multiple soccer games or band concerts or school programs. They were THERE, where they should have been all along, and it soothed my heart to know that things had come full circle. All I had to do to share in their lives was get in my car and make the four-hour trip, which I have done on a regular basis for the last few years.
In another string of circumstances this past year, both of my grandchildren have gone back to my daughter's custody. And my son-in-law's parents have come from Russia to live with them all. That latter part hasn't worked out well. Now, in a quest to earn a higher salary, my family is moving back (without the Russian grandparents) to the West Coast...to the Seattle area. This has been a whirlwind of activity and decisions--so much so that I have trouble thinking clearly about it all. Too much to think about, too soon...too many changes in such a short time. They will be coming for a quick Christmas here only to fly off into the sunset and leave me feeling lost in their absence.
I can't throw my stuff into my vehicle and drive four hours for a visit. I really can't even do airports any more without major support, due to health problems. If I'm lucky, I might get to see them a couple of times a year. When Denis (my son-in-law) first broke the news to me, I think my response was, "If you are expecting me to jump up and down and say that I'm happy about it, that isn't going to happen." He wanted to know if I had questions. Yes, I had a million questions, but every one of them came from my feelings of the unworkability of it all...for me. I was totally aware that the decisions had been made...that my questions wouldn't change a thing...and that the train was leaving the station, one way or the other. Thus, I have retreated into my little lost world. I don't ask much or expect much. As they say, it is what it is.
Beyond the obvious, I am upset by the fact that soooo many people have children who get married and move away. They manage. Why can't I?? I posed that question to my co-grandparent, Phil. His response was that other people in my situation have spouses, and maybe that's why I feel so alone. I think he's right. It wasn't my plan to be this alone this late in life. I'm also not receptive to taking on a spouse!
The other issue that has come up is whether or not I could move with them. Well, yes I could, but I have a home full of "stuff" that needs to be disposed of and things to be worked out. Housing out there is expensive. I'm not sure the kids could afford a place that would have room for me, and I'm quite certain that I could not afford a separate apartment. Still, I'm not ready to say no. I'm just ready to say that I'm quickly getting to the point of figuring out how to get from point A to point B as best I can.
I'm doing the best I can to accept life as it is handed to me. I'm not sure anyone totally understands how very much I adore my daughter and my grandchildren, and how proud I am of "our Denis". Giving them up to another life is hard, ain't it hard, ain't it hard....
If you are a praying person, I would appreciate your putting up some pleas to the Almighty to get me through this. If you aren't, a few positive thoughts in my direction might help. I just want to get through this life with all of my fingers and toes intact, hoping for the best. Right now, I'm just lost.
But things were different for my generation. Raised by the Greatest Generation's dreams that their children have more than they had, we Baby-Boomers were the first to have the contraceptive pill; the first to have legal abortions; the first to have women who went to college to have careers before/while they had children; the first in which women faced high divorce rates which demanded the careers to support themselves and their children; and the first during which couples recognized that, in order to have all of the things that their parents had achieved through their hard work and sacrifices, both husband and wife would need to be working. I struggled with it because I was raised with one set of values but was living with the new ones. In a sense, I resented it. We were on the cusp of change, not an integral part of either generation's values. What I wanted was to be a stay-at-home mother like my own mom. What I got was the need to work, even though my husband made good money. It seemed we were always in credit card debt. With a child to care for, I felt that going back to work after maternity leave was a major complication of life. Now I had a house and housework, a baby, AND a full-time job. I wasn't one of those women who wanted it all.
In spite of everything, there were values that I just came to know as part of what was right in life, and the main one (for me) was that family came before all. I didn't know much of my father's family. He grew up in poverty as the youngest of nine kids. His parents both died before I was born. His sisters and brothers had scattered, and I do think he distanced himself from them because he was working hard to make something of himself. My mother's parents, however, took him on as their very own son, and he was as much a son to them as anyone could possibly be. Wherever we went with the Navy, we always came back to the family farm outside of Streator, Illinois. Home. After the war and Navy years, we were never more than three hours from there. At the last, we were within an hour-and-a-half...and then my parents retired to that farm when it was their turn.
And then it was my turn. As a young married woman/mother, I could never imagine myself being far from my folks. Holidays and special occasions were always spent at the farm, shared with my parents and the rest of my family with traditions and love and good times. Generally, we never lived far away. In my then-husband's last position in Illinois, we were only 25 miles away. Things happened. We moved to Indiana, a scarce ten miles from his parents, but still only four hours away from my own. He and I split up. Meg and I moved to Plainfied, IN, still within four hours of home. Then she grew up, got married and had babies. Never in my wildest imagination did I think I would ever be far from her or my grandchildren. I would never move out of reach of them and never thought that they'd move away from me.
I was wrong.
First, they relocated to Muncie, Indiana. I cried for a few days but since Muncie is only 90 minutes up the interstate from where I live, I managed.
Then her marriage broke up. She and the children moved in with me, unannounced. We eventually remodeled the house to make bedrooms for everyone.
Not long thereafter, she met the new love of her life, and--in a poorly handled set of circumstances--gave unannounced and immediate custody of the children to their father and drove off to California where she married her new beau. That threw me into a serious depression that I never really got over. I wept constantly and some days didn't even get out of bed.
The children were still in Muncie for awhile. I was allowed to have them about one weekend a month. That worked. In the meantime, I also was the flight escort to take the children to California to see their mother and stepfather a couple of times a year.
Then, the children's family moved to the northeastern suburbs of Chicago where their stepmom had procured a nice position with Carthage College, and their father found work that was right up his alley. They rented and eventually bought a really nice old house in Zion, IL, near the Lake Michigan lakefront. The drive up was four hours in good circumstances. For awhile, I was still allowed to have the children for a weekend about once a month. And then my daughter and son-in-law relocated to the northeastern suburbs of Chicago also, just to be close to the children. And they were. They didn't miss the multiple soccer games or band concerts or school programs. They were THERE, where they should have been all along, and it soothed my heart to know that things had come full circle. All I had to do to share in their lives was get in my car and make the four-hour trip, which I have done on a regular basis for the last few years.
In another string of circumstances this past year, both of my grandchildren have gone back to my daughter's custody. And my son-in-law's parents have come from Russia to live with them all. That latter part hasn't worked out well. Now, in a quest to earn a higher salary, my family is moving back (without the Russian grandparents) to the West Coast...to the Seattle area. This has been a whirlwind of activity and decisions--so much so that I have trouble thinking clearly about it all. Too much to think about, too soon...too many changes in such a short time. They will be coming for a quick Christmas here only to fly off into the sunset and leave me feeling lost in their absence.
I can't throw my stuff into my vehicle and drive four hours for a visit. I really can't even do airports any more without major support, due to health problems. If I'm lucky, I might get to see them a couple of times a year. When Denis (my son-in-law) first broke the news to me, I think my response was, "If you are expecting me to jump up and down and say that I'm happy about it, that isn't going to happen." He wanted to know if I had questions. Yes, I had a million questions, but every one of them came from my feelings of the unworkability of it all...for me. I was totally aware that the decisions had been made...that my questions wouldn't change a thing...and that the train was leaving the station, one way or the other. Thus, I have retreated into my little lost world. I don't ask much or expect much. As they say, it is what it is.
Beyond the obvious, I am upset by the fact that soooo many people have children who get married and move away. They manage. Why can't I?? I posed that question to my co-grandparent, Phil. His response was that other people in my situation have spouses, and maybe that's why I feel so alone. I think he's right. It wasn't my plan to be this alone this late in life. I'm also not receptive to taking on a spouse!
The other issue that has come up is whether or not I could move with them. Well, yes I could, but I have a home full of "stuff" that needs to be disposed of and things to be worked out. Housing out there is expensive. I'm not sure the kids could afford a place that would have room for me, and I'm quite certain that I could not afford a separate apartment. Still, I'm not ready to say no. I'm just ready to say that I'm quickly getting to the point of figuring out how to get from point A to point B as best I can.
I'm doing the best I can to accept life as it is handed to me. I'm not sure anyone totally understands how very much I adore my daughter and my grandchildren, and how proud I am of "our Denis". Giving them up to another life is hard, ain't it hard, ain't it hard....
If you are a praying person, I would appreciate your putting up some pleas to the Almighty to get me through this. If you aren't, a few positive thoughts in my direction might help. I just want to get through this life with all of my fingers and toes intact, hoping for the best. Right now, I'm just lost.
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
Technology, Thy Name Ain't Grandma!
Just over a month ago, I drove up to Northern Illinois to spend some weeks attending my grandchildren's happy events and celebrate Thanksgiving. I charged my cell phone and took it with me.
Now, you have to understand that my so-called cell phone is a dinosaur. It was a hand-me-down from my daughter years ago--a Motorola Tracfone. I rarely ever used it. The only time I ever had it on was when I was on the road, but even that seemed unnecessary since I always had a ham radio in my vehicle. Then I bought a new vehicle just over a year ago that has no room for a radio. Thus, I charged the cell phone for my trip up because there is no house phone up there. The kids all use cells. If they leave the house, I have no way to call 911 should an emergency arise.
One day while there and everyone was gone, I was trying to coordinate with Luda, the other woman in the house, in case she needed to be picked up from the gym due to predicted rainfall. I took out my cell phone and turned it on. She tried to call it, but it wasn't happening. I looked at the screen. It said: Unregistered SIM. The phone had run out of days. Later, after some figgering, Megan set up my computer with a phone calling system whereby I could call out from the computer. That became a godsend. None of us were willing to put more money into the Tracfone when it couldn't do anything besides make calls. No texting, etc. A dinosaur. Thus, the end of that phone.
Then came December 1st. My mortgage payment was due. I forgot it for a couple of days but then decided I should get the job done. Got online with the bank to pay it, as I always do, but the site wasn't accepting my password. I made several failed attempts, then the system locked me out. It occurred to me thereafter that the bank site had required me to change my password, and I didn't remember what it was! Finally, I asked my daughter to look in her files to find my new password, but she (and I) realized that it had been changed after I had given her all of my user names and passwords...plus it was Saturday, and the bank's customer service office was only open on weekdays to help me unlock the site. Since I was coming home late on Sunday, I knew I was still in the grace period for the mortgage payment. I'd make the payment Monday, right?
What I haven't mentioned, so far, is that my son-in-law installed Windows 10 on my computer while I was there. It's a small learning curve, but things are different. I had to learn how tell my computer not to go into Sleep Mode every five minutes of non-use. I had to learn how to set the time to EST instead of Central. Blah!
I also haven't mentioned that my Christmas present from my children is a new cell phone. It's a pre-paid deal but more like a Smart Phone than anything I've ever owned. Wow! Major learning curve there!! I learned how to turn it on and off, to make calls, and even take pictures. I got it hooked up to my wifi here at home. Much, much, much to learn. How do I respond? With frustration! I'm working on it...
So...I got home on Sunday and quickly discovered that both of my house cordless phones were DOA, even though they had been on the chargers for a month. The rechargeable batteries had been failing for months. I just didn't expect them both to be totally dead. So how was I going to call the bank to get them to unlock my account in order to make my mortgage payment?? Cell phone! Using the new cell, I called, got the bank to unlock my account so I could make my payment. Do you think this is the end of the story of Technology vs. Grandma? NOOOOO! The bank's website was running so slowly that nothing was happening even after I got in. I figured that I needed to reboot the modem, which I did...and that helped.
Thereafter, I went to Walmart and purchased another set of cordless phones. Had to assemble them then put them on charge. Still haven't set all of the features, but at least now I have home phones again.
Through an abundance of redundancy, I have survived a bunch of "what if's". Computer, cell phone, regular phones, wifi. It takes me a bit longer, but I can do this!!
Now, you have to understand that my so-called cell phone is a dinosaur. It was a hand-me-down from my daughter years ago--a Motorola Tracfone. I rarely ever used it. The only time I ever had it on was when I was on the road, but even that seemed unnecessary since I always had a ham radio in my vehicle. Then I bought a new vehicle just over a year ago that has no room for a radio. Thus, I charged the cell phone for my trip up because there is no house phone up there. The kids all use cells. If they leave the house, I have no way to call 911 should an emergency arise.
One day while there and everyone was gone, I was trying to coordinate with Luda, the other woman in the house, in case she needed to be picked up from the gym due to predicted rainfall. I took out my cell phone and turned it on. She tried to call it, but it wasn't happening. I looked at the screen. It said: Unregistered SIM. The phone had run out of days. Later, after some figgering, Megan set up my computer with a phone calling system whereby I could call out from the computer. That became a godsend. None of us were willing to put more money into the Tracfone when it couldn't do anything besides make calls. No texting, etc. A dinosaur. Thus, the end of that phone.
Then came December 1st. My mortgage payment was due. I forgot it for a couple of days but then decided I should get the job done. Got online with the bank to pay it, as I always do, but the site wasn't accepting my password. I made several failed attempts, then the system locked me out. It occurred to me thereafter that the bank site had required me to change my password, and I didn't remember what it was! Finally, I asked my daughter to look in her files to find my new password, but she (and I) realized that it had been changed after I had given her all of my user names and passwords...plus it was Saturday, and the bank's customer service office was only open on weekdays to help me unlock the site. Since I was coming home late on Sunday, I knew I was still in the grace period for the mortgage payment. I'd make the payment Monday, right?
What I haven't mentioned, so far, is that my son-in-law installed Windows 10 on my computer while I was there. It's a small learning curve, but things are different. I had to learn how tell my computer not to go into Sleep Mode every five minutes of non-use. I had to learn how to set the time to EST instead of Central. Blah!
I also haven't mentioned that my Christmas present from my children is a new cell phone. It's a pre-paid deal but more like a Smart Phone than anything I've ever owned. Wow! Major learning curve there!! I learned how to turn it on and off, to make calls, and even take pictures. I got it hooked up to my wifi here at home. Much, much, much to learn. How do I respond? With frustration! I'm working on it...
So...I got home on Sunday and quickly discovered that both of my house cordless phones were DOA, even though they had been on the chargers for a month. The rechargeable batteries had been failing for months. I just didn't expect them both to be totally dead. So how was I going to call the bank to get them to unlock my account in order to make my mortgage payment?? Cell phone! Using the new cell, I called, got the bank to unlock my account so I could make my payment. Do you think this is the end of the story of Technology vs. Grandma? NOOOOO! The bank's website was running so slowly that nothing was happening even after I got in. I figured that I needed to reboot the modem, which I did...and that helped.
Thereafter, I went to Walmart and purchased another set of cordless phones. Had to assemble them then put them on charge. Still haven't set all of the features, but at least now I have home phones again.
Through an abundance of redundancy, I have survived a bunch of "what if's". Computer, cell phone, regular phones, wifi. It takes me a bit longer, but I can do this!!