Monday, August 24, 2015

Sidewalk Awakenings

Tonight I ended up doing my nightly walk far differently than normal. My typical walk involves earbuds, volume high, me mouthing lyrics, and occasionally texting. Tonight as I crossed the street (texting and walking like a millennial) a woman grabbed my arm and warned me to pay attention, as the sidewalks ahead were treacherous. I stopped to acknowledge her advice and I walked slowly next to her as she told me how she'd lived in the neighborhood since she was a child.

She spoke of her house, how it had been built by her father, how she'd raised her own children there, and how she now lived there alone... recovering from cancer. She told me about her treatments, her choices, and her remission. Her bones were more fragile, but walking helped build her strength and her bone density.

She told me about her grandchildren and the changes she's seen over the years.We discussed all of the new owners in our neighborhood. In my mind, we were seeing a new neighborhood blooming from the poverty it had always known. In hers we were seeing a return of what was great about our little corner of the city. The groomed lawns it started with were coming back. People were planting again. Flower beds now bloomed where weeds had once choked out all that was splendid about our blocks of bungalows and postage stamp yards.

Eventually, I found myself walking toward her destination. We stopped to compliment a landlord on his efforts to rehabilitate a long-untended property he obtained. As we walked she mentioned the creeping-Jenny in the sidewalk cracks and how dangerous it was for handicapped people. I found myself walking a step ahead and clearing the weeds for her. It was easy to see how a person's foot could get tangled in a split second and how brutal that could be on a brittle knee or wrist.

"I'm going to the Get-N-Go." she said, as she bent to pick up a lost penny on the sidewalk. I had been heading in the opposite direction, but at the moment it seemed inconsequential. We carried on and she found more and more pennies in the path that she picked up to carefully place in her pants pocket. "They add up, you know." and she winked.

When we finally reached her destination we walked inside. I hastily walked to grab my green tea. As I walked to the cashier she walked to the cafe section to read the newspaper. She sat and made herself comfortable. The employees knew her by name. I had obtained a green tea. She obtained something far greater. Immediately I felt humbled. This woman who collects discarded pennies was part of a neighborhood that no amount of landscaping on my part could buy.

I thanked her for her company, promised to see her again, and headed back toward home alone. As I walked the opposite side of the street I found myself still clearing the sidewalk cracks of noxious weeds. I passed another elderly woman tending her flowers who smiled and said, "they keep coming back, don't they?" she said. "Yes, but it's a great day for pulling weeds!" I replied.

It has been a long time since I've felt that my interactions with others had any significance. Tonight, I can't help but wonder if it all held some worth that I can't quantify. Maybe I've just been so self-involved that I didn't look up from my texts, didn't take out my earbuds to hear, or couldn't imagine anything was more important than my own insignificant tribulations. Regardless, I think I'll go back tomorrow.


Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Class of 2015 - Reality Check

When I started working legally in 1987 I was making $3.25 an hour. For most farm kids the rule was to work for your family (the first form of OJT) until you were old enough to know what you were doing and take jobs in the summer for a farmer who had no kids to walk the bean rows for them. I did that. I took babysitting jobs in the non-field months, and I did chores around the house regardless of what else I was doing. If Grandma was going to visit we were going to make the place spotless. My mom kept a very tidy house, and even as an adult it is difficult to understand why Grandma might have looked in the cupboard with the pots, pans, lids, Tupperwear, and lids. I don't think she ever did! Holy shit... I just realized she just wanted us to clean the cupboards! Tricky, Mom... real tricky!

I remember the call when my mom told me I would be starting a job at a local restaurant that Friday night. I was scared and a little excited. I would be working a regular job for regular pay. This would be money for me. ME! Over the years, I worked in fields, bars, and day care facilities. My first job was the dirtiest, smelliest, and most grueling job I have ever had. Clearing up after a table full of people who don't have any self-respect in how they eat outside of their own homes is pretty disgusting. Cigarette butts in coffee cups, water glasses, and plates, phlegm in cups or half wrapped in tissues, food chewed up then spit onto plates; Welcome to the world of restaurants in the 80s. None of that mattered in the end; I was making money and I was the mother f*cking queen.

It wasn't long and I was on to bigger and better jobs. Just like with field work where we pimped ourselves out to other farms, kids of my day were always on the come up. Is someone paying more? Are the hours better? We went where the money was. We did everything we could to earn the independence we were seeking. In my home, if we wanted the freedom of travel we could either get a job and get our own transportation or we could abide by the rules of driving a family vehicle. The family vehicle had far more restrictions. When the ultimatum came down, "if you live under my roof you live under my rules", you had fewer options if you were driving the family LTD. If you had your very own 1980 Pinto you pretty much had the world by the balls.

Like the ambitious young idiot that I was I opted for the freedom of a 1980 Pinto in 1990. I took jobs that paid more and ended up convincing myself that I was better off going it alone. I left home and school. I worked my ass off. Following that there was a marriage, kids, pain, divorce, more pain, more stupidity, college, jobs that didn't quite fit, student loans, and trying to raise two kids alone for many years.

Now I find myself preparing my youngest for the real world. He's graduated early and I feel I've done a piss poor job of preparing him for the real world. He knows how to wash his laundry. He knows how to take the trash out. He knows how to load the dishwasher. If ever he shares a place with friends he will not be able to blame me for his lack of home maintenance skills.

It seems that no matter how much life experience I have and the amount of real life skills I've imparted to my kids there is still something I do not understand. How is it that I made 1/3 the wage in an era of higher inflation, and kids these days still think their parents owe them more?

If you're living at home past the age of 18, college or not, you should be putting money aside to GET THE HELL OUT. If you're one of the fortunate ones who have parents that can support you while you go to college then you should be saving like a mofo. If you choose not to go to school and your parents are gracious enough to let you live at home then you should be helping out and paying your own incidentals.

For those unsure of what an incidental is...
1. Car insurance or the extra your parents pay to have your young ass on theirs.
2. Cell phone bill.
3. Party tab. Don't ask your parents for party time spending money. Screw you.
4. Car payment if you have one.
5. Anything above and beyond what your parents need to get by.

If you're out of high school and not in college full time you should be contributing. The rest of your money should be saved so you can, again, GET THE HELL OUT. This isn't just for your parents' sake. This is something you need to do for yourself. Grow up. Take ownership of the life you're choosing.

These days parents aren't pushing kids out of the nest as early as they used to, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't know the expense you create. You eat like adults, use the electric, gas, water, cable, and internet. You want all the joys of independence and adulthood without the responsibilities. Please understand that when you complain the look on your parents' faces is one of a complete lack of understanding. We don't get it.

What the hell are you spending money on? This relates to the parental question, "Are you doing drugs?" We ask this because we know the cost of shit. As adults, we spend a lot of money on things. At the end of the month we have to look back and account for where the money went. We still have a few bucks left over though our expenses are far higher and a good portion of what you cost is still on our bill. So what is a parent supposed to think?

If I made what today's kids can make right out of high school, my parents gave me a place to live rent-free, and I didn't have groceries to buy or kids to feed I'd have a ton of money. What the hell are you buying if not drugs? Is it stocks, bonds, or precious metals? For real, clue me in. Maybe we can all retire early.

Please, if your parents are gracious enough to not turn your room into a sewing room, man cave, room for let, or a sex dungeon.... have the decency to contribute a bit without being a complete asshole. They've already given you life and a safe place to grow into the beautiful snowflake you are. Make the best of it for your future. Don't take it for granted. The lazier you are now and the more you ask of them the less your inheritance.

My son's graduation announcements arrived today. On the back it reads, "Stepping off the stage, diploma in hand, he will throw away the map drawn for him and begin to create his own." No truer words will be spoken. When you receive that diploma you are bound to yourself, your choices, your passions, and, above all, the consequences those things create.

Learn to think before you act. Remember that some of the hardest decisions you make will be the ones that steer you down the road. Believe that no matter where you are today this is not exactly where you'll be tomorrow. It is a long journey, and as the saying goes, "Life is a journey not a destination."  The ultimate goal in life is to find someone who believes you grow more beautiful, intelligent, and loving with each passing year. My wish for all of you is that when you find that person that it is you.                           

Thursday, March 12, 2015

The Season of Poor Relationship Choices

I've been gone. Life was happening. Honestly, I got HBO Go, and I couldn't be bothered to do anything except binge watch Game of Thrones over and over until I think I've already figured out who will win. Then there was work. Let's not talk about it. Some things have been incredible since we last talked. Some things have made me question everything about my life, my choices, and my ability to trust my gut ever again. Such is life with SAD. 

There was a plan to tie explaining my absence to what I came here to write about, but now that I'm here doing it I've completely forgotten what it was going to be. From now on I'll just be yelling the word segue when I want to talk about something else. Deal? Cool. 

SEGUE! That's pretty slick I have to say. Let's move on. 

Spring is here (almost). I sprung forward, and my afternoons are brighter. This is the time of year that, like most people coming out of the SAD fog... that's what the tie in was.. I feel like all things are possible. My mood, health, and attitude all improve and I feel pretty damned good about the future. 

This morning I was hanging out at home waiting for the antihistamines to kick in and clear up my drippy nose, swollen eyes, and scratchy throat. It was a great reminder that the seasons have definitely changed. I was also reminded that this is the time of year that I do the most ridiculous of things. I fall in love. 

When talking with a friend I mentioned that I've recently been contacted by a couple former flames. It seems that spring for them is a time to look back and say, "I could go find someone new or I could check to see if so and so is married off yet. Is there a chance we could make some really poor decisions together. Christmas is done and Valentine's Day has passed. It's safe." 

"Maybe they think I'm fragile?" I asked.

"Fragile is not a word I would associate with you." he replied. 

I laughed. "You've never seen me broken-hearted." 

"And hopefully never will." he said. 

Then I explained reality. "It will happen. The calendar shows spring is near. I'll fall in love and it won't work. By autumn I'll be all messed up. No one will notice. I'll just be more cynical. I'll laugh more and be very sarcastic."

"Like this though... HAHAHAHA?" he asked. 

"Yes! And I'll drink more wine and cry myself to sleep, but you won't see it." I added. 

I used to choose a new man to fall in love with when my heart was ready. I'd choose someone completely different from the last one and feel pretty confident that it would all work out. After a failed marriage and a couple of failed almost marriages I gave up on that idea. Apparently my idea of completely different is everyone else's exactly the same. It's been a long time since I've fallen in love. This time I have decided to just fall back in love with someone I've fallen in love with before. It's like banging my head against a brick wall, but the first few months of blows to the head feel so good! 

Someecards

Looking back on it, I wonder if my SAD sets the schedule for my romantic notions or if my romantic notions set the schedule for my SAD. Maybe this year I should avoid love completely and see how October looks without regret, anger, sadness, and pain. Huh. Well hell. I'll get back to you on that. 






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