Growing In and Out of Tricky Situations

 I would have entitled this post as Things People Don't Know About Me, but it seemed pretty conceited and otherwise self-centered.  Still, when one gets to my age, one begins to look back at one's life to see what was done well, what was inherited, and what could have been done better.  (Is it bad to refer to oneself in the third person in a personal blog?  Blah!)

Try as I might, I can't really categorize my life events that way. so I'm just going to list them, with commentary, and hope they are of interest to someone, somewhere.  Maybe my grandkids someday when I'm gone?  

1.  I was born with missing permanent teeth...like four of them.  I had two primary molars that had no replacements, one incisor, and one wisdom tooth that didn't exist.  (TWO other wisdom teeth sprouted sideways under the gum line [impacted].  Crazy!)  The molars that nature expected to last 6-8 years held on well past their lifespan because there were no permanent teeth coming in to push them out.  Over time, they broke and were pulled.  One was replaced by a permanent bridge.  The other is still just a gap.  The primary incisor got pushed out when the permanent canine tooth next to it grew in over it.  (Just call me Fang!)   After the incisor came out with nothing to replace it, there was a gap, but it didn't look that bad.  I was a kid, so I didn't worry about it.  I had one impacted wisdom tooth removed.  The other is still in my jaw, sideways, not giving me any trouble.

When I was a teenager, my mother asked me if I wanted braces.  I said I didn't.  I had no idea then how my mouth would be now.  Wish I had that decision to make all over again!!

2.  I was born a brunette.  But I also had freckles...lots of them...and since I spent every waking hour outside, they were quite visible, and I hated them.  People would comment on my freckles.  I shuddered every time that happened.  My mother told me, over and over again, that the freckles would fade as I got older.  I didn't believe her.  Then, almost unnoticed over years, my freckles were gone.  I don't miss them at all, but I always wondered how my mother would know that they would disappear.  I do know a number of people who have lots of freckles that last well into old age....

The reason I mention that I was a brunette with freckles is that everything I read as a young adult mentioned skin cancer risks for "blonde-headed, blue-eyed people" with "fair skin".  I wasn't blonde, and what the dickens is fair skin?  I had no clue.  My seriously uninformed brain allowed me to be a semi-sun-worshipper.  I was a burn and peel person...not a tan person.  (That should have been my first clue!)  As a result, I've had two skin cancers removed from my face:  a basal cell carcinoma on the end of my nose (1980s), and a squamous cell carcinoma on the bridge of my nose near my eye (early 2000s).  I've learned to cope with my marred beauty.  

3.  As a child, I suffered from serious headaches for as far back as I can remember.  We called them migraines, although I never had a medical diagnosis.  They were severe, complete with sensitivity to light and occasional nausea.  The only thing I could think to do was sleep.  Sometimes it helped; sometimes it didn't.  I learned to be really careful about my head.  Any little bump or tension in my neck would bring one on.  Sometimes, I actually woke up with a headache; sometimes they lasted for more than one day.  My dear mother threw every kind of OTC painkillers she could at me to see if they helped.  She took me to eye doctors, etc.  Not much helped.  (When Excedrin finally came out, it helped.  I would get cold and shake from the caffeine in it just before the headache went away.  Not every time, but often.)  I also learned to take something for pain at the FIRST sign of a headache.  Wait too long, and nothing worked.

I went through this for many, many years...and then...one day...I noticed that I wasn't having headaches anymore.  (I was in my late 20s.)  To this day, the ONLY headache I've had since then was with a ruptured aneurysm in my brain...and that one only lasted for a couple of weeks post-surgery.  I apparently outgrew my migraines...and am so very thankful to have left them behind!  (I actually Googled if it was possible to outgrow headaches and found that it is.  Hallelujah!)

4.  Along about mid-1980s, I got a nasty sinus infection.  I doctored for it, given antibiotics, etc., with a one-horse-town neurotic doctor who treated female patients totally different than males.  (Don't get me started!)  The doc finally ordered me to go to a hospital 35 miles away for a CT scan of my head.  The appointment was made for earlier in the day of my grandfather's funeral visitation.  I was not happy.  When the results came back, the doc said, "You are much sicker than I gave you credit for."  Every single one of my sinuses was full.  Painfully full.  I was given even more rounds of antibiotics that didn't work.  In the long run, my sinusitis became chronic.  Nothing short of surgery would really help, and I had no intention of having that, especially since I had a number of family members who'd gone the surgery route more than once, without permanent relief.  

In the many years since then, I have had several other CT scans of my head for seemingly unrelated reasons (and my ruptured aneurysm).  At one point, I asked a technician if there was anything he was permitted to tell me.  He said, "Yes.  All of your sinuses are full."  Well, durn it!  I could have told him that!  After the CT scan(s) for my brain bleed, the ICU nurse came into my room with a bag of fluids to say, "You have a sinus infection.  We are adding antibiotics to your IV."  

Over the years, I also had TWO tubes put in my right ear, just like the children with frequent ear infections.  The tubes only last a year or two.  When the first one came out, another was put in...but the second one failed.  It was still in place but I still couldn't hear.  Yeah...to this day, I still don't hear well out of that ear, and I still have major sinus problems!

5.  I can't smell anything.  I attribute my olfactory failure to my sinus condition.  It's both a curse and a blessing.  The good news is that I can't smell spoiled things in my refrigerator.  The bad news is that I can't smell spoiled things in my refrigerator--or smoke, or gas leaks, or anything else that could kill me.  Occasionally, the smell of garlic will work its way into my nose, and hand sanitizer also, but I am otherwise Smelling Impaired.  I've been invited to a number of sales parties for scented candles.  There is no point for me.

6.  Everyone--both male and female--are vain about their hair.  (Read the short story, The Gift of the Magi, by O'Henry.)  I inherited my father's curly hair.  My mother loved it and kept it short when I was too young to complain, so she could enjoy my ringlets....but in the 50s, when everyone wore pony tails, I wanted a pony tail, so I tried to grow my hair longer.  It was only then that I realized that my hair is VERY fine.  It wouldn't stay constrained in a rubber band for long.  Later, in the 60s, when everyone was wearing long, straight hippie hair, I couldn't manage it.  My hair was curly.  So much for that look!  It was then that I also realized, not only was my hair curly and fine, it was also thin.  If I parted my hair in the middle, as was the trend, a whole lot of scalp showed.  And it never got better.  My hair has been thin, and getting thinner, most of my adult life.  Ugh!  

I adapted.  Did my best to hide bald spots with my "do", and it somewhat worked for awhile.  Curly hair helps with that.  Then I had the brain bleed that required a craniotomy to fix.  I have a scar that starts just to the right of the midline on my forehead, just below the hairline, then makes an arc up into my skull to the left, and down again just in front of my ear.  That surgery saved my life, so I can't ever complain about it, but it did leave me with a pretty big skull scar that won't grow hair, right in the area in front where my hair is thinnest.

Then, to add insult to injury, a big black mole grew right in the middle of it all.  At that point, I gave up on trying to look pretty and started with a wig.  Then the wig got problematic.  I had to keep what's left of my hair cut short to fit under the wig, which ruined anything close to my old hairstyle.  Then, too, my hair has gotten straighter in old age.  (In comparison, my sister and daughter who were born with straight hair now find themselves with wavy locks.  How does this happen??)  I've learned not to be worried about my appearance in the hopes that people can see my beauty within.  (Yeah, right.)  In truth, nobody really cares about how old people look.  (The irony is that people who look great, like my sister, don't look as old as they are.  People who aren't as attentive to their looks, like me, look a bunch older than they are.  Ugh!)

7.  Once upon a time, while we lived in the small community of Pontiac, IL, Hollywood came to town.  It was revealed that a Hollywood movie was going to be filmed in our community, largely because of the colorful courthouse downtown, etc., and locals were being hired for "extras".  Since one of the actresses in the movie was a 13-year-old, the law required hiring an on-set tutor.  It was at the beginning of the school year, and the young actress was out of Chicago.  As it happened, the production company called my then-husband (principal of the local middle school) to ask for a tutor recommendation.  At the time, I was a certified teacher but only working as a substitute.  My daughter was maybe four and in pre-school.  My husband, of course, recommended me.   Just like that, I was hired.  When I was asked what I would charge, I got brave and said $10/hour.  (At that time, that kind of money looked attractive to me.  Apparently, it was attractive to the producers, too, because they didn't even blink an eye.  I should have asked for more!)

The gig was only for a week or two.  That was the filming schedule for Melissa, my young charge.  We did what we could for the time we had.  I worried that I would be sending her back to class in the Chicago schools behind in her studies, but as luck would have it, Chicago teachers went on strike.  She went home to no school at all for at least a couple of weeks.

Still, for a week or two, I was learning lots about Hollywood movies and rubbing elbows with Hollywood stars, many of whom were just getting started.  Among them:

    Jamie Lee Curtis.  At that time, she was known as the Queen of Screams because she had been in some horror flicks.

    Patrick Swayze.  No one knew him in those days.  It was before Dirty Dancing and all the rest.    

    John Cusack.  This was the very start of his career.  He only had a bit part.

    Ramon Bieri.  He was a very recognizable character actor who had been around for a lot of movies.

    C. Thomas Howell.  He was in E.T. the Extraterrestrial, and other well-known pictures.

    William Windom.  Also a well-known character actor.

    Troy Donohue.  Once a heart-throb; at the time, an aging star.

The movie was titled Grandview, USA.  It wasn't a barnstormer.  In fact, is now barely listed as the actors' accomplishments, but it was important to our community, and it was important to me.  It was my brush with greatness.  

8.  The summer after my then-husband and I were married, I saw an ad in an education flyer about possible summer employment; a Boy Scout Council in central IL, was looking for summer camp employees.  We were both certified teachers an both had been active Scouts as young folk.  He was also a school administrator--so we were hired.  My husband was to be Program Director.  Initially, I was supposed to be the camp's nurse, which would require me to take a First Aid course, but that soon gave way to having me be the Ecology Director.  Both of us were required to go to National Camp School for the Boy Scouts of America, but we had already lost out on convenient opportunities to do so.  We ended up taking five days off from school toward the end of the school year in order to attend NCS in Ohio for the only training week left before the beginning of camp.  (It was a bad move.  The school district ended up docking our pay for that week when they caught on.  Ouch!)

As it turned out, it was okay for Cub Scout troops to have Den Mothers, but women had never been employed as summer camp directors; and certainly none had ever attended National Camp School !  The upshot was that I was NOT welcome to attend camp.  The national Scout executives claimed that the camp didn't have facilities for women, and thusly informed the state executive that had hired me.  The state executive pushed back, telling them that the world was changing, and that I couldn't really be kept out, legally.  (This was the summer of 1978, for Pete's sake!)  Honestly, I wasn't trying to strike a blow for women.  I just wanted us to have summer jobs to help make ends meet.  And that is how I came to be the first woman in the United States to attend National Camp School for the Boy Scouts of America.  Woo hoo!

I've written about the experience before in past posts.  Suffice it to say that the only accommodation I saw in deference to my gender was that one of the patrols of young men at mealtime in the NCS dining hall were not permitted to use "Eat a beaver; save a bush!" as their motto.  

So much for Woman Power....

         

Retirement: An Explanation

 Life is a journey, destination unknown.

I came to Plainfield, Indiana, from Cloverdale, IN, with my daughter in 1991, as newly single women.  We had only been transplants from Illinois for less than three years. We were blazing new trails in our lives.  It seemed in those days that I had to fight for everything we had, including child support--but we survived, and eventually thrived.  I bought our little house-on-a-slab in 1992.  Daughter was in the high school show choir, Belles et Beaux.  I became a Show Choir Mom, loving every second of it in Megan's last three years of high school.  What a blast!

In the year 2000, my daughter married.  In 2002, my first grandchild was born, followed 15 months later in 2004, by grandchild #2.  I adored them both.  In fact, I spent almost as much time with them, wherever they were, as I did in my own home.  I taught during the week and was with them on the weekends.  I supplied some funds and some stability (or so I believed) and enjoyed my grandmotherhood.  I have ONE child.  Everything in my life has revolved around her and her family!

In 2007, the Indianapolis Colts were playing in the Super Bowl.  Everybody, including the paternal grandparents, was at my house for the event, dressed in Colts gear.  It was a happy time  since our team won.  That was mid-February.  In early March, my daughter asked if I'd like company for my birthday.  Of course!  She and my grandkids came for the weekend...and never left.  I'd had no clue that she was leaving her husband and was staying here with me.  I had two usable bedrooms.  The third bedroom was being used as an office/radio shack.  Robin and I slept on one bed.  Ryan and Mom slept on the other.  Honestly, I don't think anyone was getting much sleep.

The children spent every weekend with their father in Muncie, with Mom and Dad trading delivery and pickup trips--about 1 1/2 hours one way.  I spent every weekend doing laundry.  Megan (my daughter) had snagged a significant job with IUPUI (Indiana University/Purdue University at Indianapolis) in the bursar's office, but was also taking classes.  She was home by about 6:00 daily.   I was usually home by 4:00, after teaching all day.  I got home, took a short nap on the couch, then went to pick up the children at day care along about 5:00.  We came home, and I started dinner while supervising the kids.  Dinner was ready by the time their mom came home.  That was during the school year.  We were all busy!

Over the summer (July) of 2007, when I was visiting with my sister in Illinois, I had the misfortune to experience a ruptured aneurysm in my brain.  I've talked about this before.  I was fortunate to recover from that event with no deficits, unlike 80% of other aneurysm sufferers, but it did cause some problems for my daughter.  She wanted to be in Peoria, IL, with me, but couldn't find anyone to keep the kids.  The paternal grandparents were out of town, and their father said he couldn't help.  Her boss suggested that she needed to be with me, and the kids' day care gal offered to keep the kids for a day or two.  My sister and my daughter took turns being with me.  When I was finally taken out of ICU after surgery, and released to go, there was the issue of taking me AND my car home, so Meg had to find a second driver who was willing to make the 4-hour trip and back all in one day.  My poor daughter then had to find people to babysit me during the days, according to the doctors, due to the potential of vasospasm.   After a few days of that, I declared, "Enough!  I'm fine!"  We took a risk and won.  I returned to school after Labor Day...two weeks after school had begun...because my neurologist insisted that I hold off a bit and would only issue me a release to return to work if I did.  Whew!  I survived the aneurysm bleed with no physical or mental deficits.  God is good!

The summer of 2008, while the grandchildren were in Muncie with their dad for a 6-week summer visit, we decided to remodel the house to make it so that four people could have their own rooms.  Megan contributed much of the funds through grants that she had obtained through legal means.  We turned the garage into a grandma bedroom/radio shack, and the other three bedrooms redecorated to become rooms for my daughter, my female grandchild, and my male grandchild.  We were installing ceiling fans, taking OUT a ceiling fan to replace with a light fixture, stripping wallpaper, painting rooms, buying beds, and just generally making my little bungalow suitable for a family of four, so everyone could have their own space.  It was expensive but wonderful for us all.

For the 2008-2009 school year, Robin was in Kindergarten and Ryan was in pre-school at the UM Church.  Out of the goodness of their hearts, the paternal grandmother offered to do kid duty that year so day care could be out of the picture for Ry..  Megan took the children to the grandparents' on her way to work.    Grandpa Phil took Robin to school and picked her up, daily, taking her back to their house for the rest of the afternoon.  Grandma Judy took Ryan to preschool and picked him up.  (I don't think the latter was every day.)  When I got home from teaching, I picked them up, came home, and started dinner.  We INVARIABLY had fights in the car.  I dreaded it.  It's only a mile from there to here, but such drama for an already-exhausted grandma to endure.  I wasn't all that nice.  We were ALL just surviving by trying to stay in our lanes.  

In the spring of that school year, I was 62.  In a perfect world, I should have waited three more years to retire, but it isn't a perfect world!  It had become clear to me that I needed to be home to do the honors with the grandkids, keep house, and try to create a calmer environment for all of us.  Ryan was having unexpected tantrums.  Work was sapping my strength with expectations that made no sense.  I had long considered that I probably would never be able to retire, but I figured if I could just take home $2,000 a month with pension and Social Security, it could happen.  Didn't happen.  I couldn't come that close, but I committed to retire, anyway.  I'd find a way to get by.

I've been retired now for 13 years.  At the beginning of those years, 2009, the grandchildren went to live with their father in Muncie, while my daughter went to California with her Russian-born boyfriend.  I (literally) had a heart attack that year, and my grandson suffered a major concussion from falling off this bike.  My life fell apart.  (Not fun to talk about.)  Still, I'm not sorry that I retired.  I was free to escort my grandchildren, about twice a year via airplane, to visit their mother.  And then, slowly, my physical abilities began to give up.  Thank God, I was able to manage until my daughter and her Russian husband (who is a delightful man, btw) decided to move back to the Midwest to be closer to the children...and then regained custody of both of them because of some trauma not related to any parental concerns on either side.  

In retirement--on a fixed budget--I have managed to pay off my house, which gives me some financial wiggle room.  I can travel, with help--but not during the pandemic.  My life has found a rhythm of ways to get along.  Of course, it costs money.  Of course it relies on many others when I used to be able to do everything for myself.  I think I retired just in time.  I'm not sure I could have lasted the three years at work that would have given me more income.  Was it worth the monetary sacrifice?  Yes!  It absolutely was!!         

    

 

  

Porch Pirates and Mail Thieves

 Here in America, we have a new form of larceny: stealing delivered packages from porches and stealing mail from mailboxes.  Every day--EVERY DAY--I read messages on local internet chat sites posting doorbell camera pictures of these activities and/or inquiring about missing shipments that were marked as "delivered".  The thieves are Equal Opportunity felons; i.e. they don't care what's in the boxes they steal, and they steal from anyone.  I'm guessing that the purpose of this is to be able to sell the contents for money.  Some people are known to follow delivery trucks around neighborhoods just to snatch the delivered packages instantly.  

The mail thieves are a more recent problem.  They are taking actual mail out of mailboxes, both on the street and on houses.  One recent homeowner found her mail thrown on the street.  All of the Christmas cards had been opened and discarded because they didn't contain cash or gift cards.  It's crazy.

Three years ago, I sent my grandson an online gift, which he got, then followed up with a birthday card containing a $20 bill and a Starbucks gift card.  It never arrived.  I mean, the US Postal Service warns not to send those things by mail, but I'd done it for years without a problem.  I KNEW I was taking a risk but did it anyway.  Lesson learned.  I think sending a greeting card, with or without anything extra inside, is a trigger for thieves.   Greeting card + money or gift cards = theft.  OR greeting card without anything = still theft, just in case.  Nothing is sacred anymore!  What's worse is that when I mentioned that my mail to my grandson never arrived, the clerk at the USPS window seemed irritated with me.  "If it doesn't have a tracking number, we can't help."  I had no idea that simple mail could even have a tracking number.  How does that happen...and is it worth it?  Stolen mail is stolen mail, and no tracking number will change that.

Other than that one instance, I have not experienced any porch pirates or mail thieves, but it affects me.  I no longer send cash or gift cards.  I do send checks, but never in greeting cards because they become targets for theft.  (And, unfortunately, my grandkids don't seem to know what to do with checks!)  It hurts me to know that even the sacred US Mail isn't free of problems.  (Please understand that I know that the USPS isn't at fault in this.  It's a social problem--not a mail delivery problem.)

These crimes are so prominent now that there can't be any surprise packages.  I have to alert the people I'm sending things to that it's on the way and to look for it.  It's also so common that law enforcement can barely keep up.  Were I police, I would do what I could do but would have to put this on the back burner in order to take care of other, more major crimes.  I get it.  I also get that citizens are enraged that they are being robbed by unknown people who simply don't care.  One lady complained that her stolen package was her dog's medicine.  Another said what was stolen was specialized stuff for her business that wouldn't be of use to anyone else.  And the list goes on...

I have no answers.  Just complaints.  It's a point of pride.  I don't want to see the Bad Guys win.  We, as a society, have too much to lose when this kind of theft goes unpunished.  As long as it is lucrative to the thieves, it will continue.  So many things have changed in my lifetime.  I'm not always happy with them!  

Awaiting the Storm

 Where I live in Central Indiana, USA, hasn't had much precipitation this winter of any kind.  According to the weatherman on my favorite tv channel, we are 16 inches under the norm, so far.  It appears that we are going to be putting a big dent in that deficiency this week.

Perhaps I should preface my comments by saying that my ability to drive is just about the only independence I have left.  Ice/Snow mess that up, so I have learned to compensate during the winter by watching the weather forecasts and getting my immediate needs taken care of before the other shoppers empty the store shelves.  In other words, I find ways to "shelter in place" for a few days when weather threatens. 

I also should mention that I live right in what is called the "I-70 Corridor".  It's a weather line that often follows the path of I-70 through the state.  My house is probably 1 1/2 miles north of I-70 in Plainfield, which often leaves us with the admonition that we are on the dividing line between rain and frozen hell.  We'll see, won't we? 

We are expecting a "high impact" winter storm for the rest of the week: rain, changing to freezing rain (ice), changing to lots of snow for Wednesday night and all day Thursday, then unseasonable cold for a couple of days, which means nothing's going to melt for awhile.  Am I ready?  I think so!

My pantry and freezer are full.  I have stocked up on my vices, which should keep me through the storm.  I have told people who rely on me for transportation that I won't be driving anywhere for a few days.  My gas tank is full.  My oil lamps are full of lamp oil, and (I think) my big flashlight lantern still works.  I have arranged for snow removal for me and my neighbor.  Everything is set...right?  I hope, with that kind of preparedness, the storm will just be a gully-washer rain storm, but the likelihood of that, based on the confidence of NWS forecasts, is slim to none.

What I DON'T have is a battery-operated radio or a mobile charger for my cell phone.  Worse yet, I don't have an alternate source of heat in case the power goes out.  (I will not be buying a kerosene heater.  So many people die every year from carbon monoxide or fires caused by those things.  If the power goes out and the going gets tough, I'll vacate to...somewhere!  With help, of course.)   Please pray to the Power Gods to keep "us" electrified through the storm!