Most likely you followed the link from my first page of Random Thoughts. There are more, and I hope these are just as amusing and thought provoking. And, as always, your comments are appreciated.
Lynne was supposed to be my best friend. She had the dorm room next to me the year before, and we found, among a lot of other things in common, a jealousy of her roommate, Rosemary. Rosemary was the ultimate California girl. Long blonde hair, great tan and body. But this isn't about Rosemary; this is about what Lynne did to me.
This was back in fall of 1971 and we were at Cal (University of California, Berkeley). I had gotten an apartment with my best friend from high school. Ellen and i were juniors, and while we hadn't been that close the first two years at Cal, we still decided to get an apartment together. Within a few weeks, we practically hated each other. I was still a dope smoking hippie, and she was trying to get an education. So we tolerated each other, and pretty much went our separate ways, until we could sublet the apartment, and get the hell away from each other. Ellen and i are still good friends today, in case you're interested.
One of our major sources of difference, was her boyfriend. Was i jealous? Probably. But sometime that fall, i got a boyfriend, and finally, i lost my virginity. John and i were either at his place, or my place, and occasionally on campus or in class, and who was always hanging around? Lynne. I met John at the campus radio station, where he was station manager and i was a lowly dj. That's where i also met my future former spouse, Fred.
At the end of the fall quarter, Ellen and i had sublet our apartment, and i moved in with John. He lived in a big old crummy house in Oakland, with a bunch of other people from the radio station, including my ex. The house on Brook Street was a big old victorian, that somehow managed not to be demolished, and was next to an car repair shop and a vacant lot. Just thinking back to those days, and the memories come flooding in. Steve, aka Eddie Haskell. He was just as slimy as the tv character. Alan, who owned the house. He was a strange little man, the grandson of Erle Stanley Gardner (creator of Perry Mason), and my ex's best friend from high school. The Auk, who i don't think i ever knew his first name. Chris was quiet and pretty much kept to himself. My ex lived there too. And then i moved in with John.
I saw these people both at the radio station on campus, and at my new living quarters. I was treated pretty much as one of the guys, which was fine with me. John and i had a good relationship, but always in the background, was Lynne. If we went somewhere, Lynne tagged along. Lynne was frequently at the Brook Street house, or at the radio station. I still have the necklace John had designed for me, and wear it on occasion. And the Owl from Winnie the Pooh he gave me, that had been his as a child. I had met his parents and had been many times to their house. Things were going along smoothly, or so i assumed.
Since Lynne and i were friends, i still spent a lot of time with her. We would hang out on or near the campus and talk about life. She was a rich girl from Newport Beach, but nowhere near as glamourous as Rosemary. She wasn't quite as much a hippie type as i was, though she tried. It seemed like whatever i had or did, she wanted to have or do. But i was blissfully in love with John, so i didn't think too much of them spending time together without me.
Until Valentine's Day. John had bought me this beautiful heart shaped cake. Three layers and chocolate,and beautifully decorated. By then i was suspicious of the two of them. My initial urge was to take the cake, and shove it in John's face. Ohhhh.. how i wish i had done that. But i didn't and the three of us ate the cake, and i am sure the rest of the guys finished it up. That night, John and i had our first and only fight, and the next day he moved out of the house, back to his home. He was now interested in Lynne.
I stayed in the house, trying to figure out, what next? I hadn't attended too many classes that winter quarter, so i dropped out before i flunked out. It looked like my only choice, besides killing Lynne and John, was to move back to Van Nuys and my mom's home. That's not what happened, of course. Fred and i ended up together, and i moved from John's old room into his, until we moved out, and got our own place.
For a while, after we were married, we lived in his grandmother's big house in Berkeley. I hadn't seen Lynne or John since the day after Valentine's day. One day, i ran into her on campus, we got to talking, and i invited her to visit me at the house. I loved Fred's grandmother's house, and secretly hoped to live there after she died. I do remember when Lynne and i were visiting, that she told me they only lasted a few weeks and then John dumped her. She really wasn't his type. The thing i remember most about that visit, was that Lynne was wearing green nail polish.
That was in 1973 and i haven't seen or heard from her since. I suppose she found some nice lawyer to marry and has 2.3 children and lives in Beverly Hills. I don't have a clue to what John might be doing or where. I don't hold any grudges against her anymore, for taking John away from me. She betrayed me in such a typical female way, but she didn't get anything out of it except a boyfriend for a few weeks. And was a trendsetter, having green nail polish way back then.
©31 March 2000I am nothing. Not really, of course, i do have a slightly higher self esteem than that. But when you take into consideration everything, i doubt i will have made an impact on the universe. It became apparent to me, as it often does, when i sit and watch the ocean, as we did yesterday.
Evelyn is leaving tomorrow, to go back to Minnesota for the rest of the summer. She wanted to go to the ocean. It's been very chilly in Portland, so we put on sweatshirts and long pants, and off we went. It's also been very rainy. It's been raining three days, and should rain for the rest of the week. It's ok; suits my mood as Evelyn's visit comes to a close.
It was incredibly foggy. Portland, being on the ocean, gets a lot of fog. As we drove through downtown, you could barely see 100 feet in front of you, and the tops of buildings had once again vanished. Driving over the new bridge, you couldn't see a horizon line. When we got to my favorite beach, it was actually rather crowded for the kind of day it was. There must have been a dozen cars. Had it been a beautiful, warm sunny summer day, this would not have surprised me. I guess there are more people like me who love the ocean no matter what the weather.
We started on the left side. I was going to say sandy side, but it's not sand, the particles are bigger than sand. The right side is the big sedimentary rocks, that almost look like petrified wood. You are at the water's edge on the left side, which is why it is more like sand. We looked for rocks and dodged the waves. Ahhhh... the waves. Huge, foamy, crashing waves. It was very windy and the tide was coming in, so the waves seemed to be following you up the sand. We climbed some rocks at the far end, and took some pictures. It seems Evelyn had brought her camera but hadn't used it thus far. I took one of her on the rocks, she took one of me. I got brave, and climbed out closer to the water. And i got soaked. Up to my knees. And i just laughed.
Evelyn had found a rock shaped like a heart. I had already found several that caught my eye, but i wanted a heart shaped one too. Luck was on my side, or we might still be there searching. She also found a lobster claw, and i took a picture of her holding it, like it was biting her nose.
We put the rocks in the car, and went over to the rocky side. Here we sat. Watching the waves. Everything was grey. Except for the white foam. The sky was grey. The water was grey. The fog was grey. It was inspiring. Mother Nature demonstrating her power. The surf crashing on the rocks that had been there for tens of thousands of years. And would be there for tens of thousands more. If you walked up to the end of the rocks, you could be swept away, and never found. The fog horn sounded every minute or so. The salty fishy smell of the ocean was intense. Everything was covered in a fine mist of seawater. About all you could see was the other people in their brightly colored jackets. Otherwise, everything seemed to be enveloped in the grey fog.
We sat there till Evelyn finally admitted she was cold. Her hair was damp and her nose red. We'll probably both get colds. I could have sat there till it got dark. Sitting there, makes you realize how unique and amazing the world is. And how insignificant i am in the whole scheme of things. Sure, i'm important to my children. To my friends. Maybe to acquaintances and other people i vaguely know. But i realized i won't change the world. Do anything that will affect anyone outside my circle. And it's ok.
© 15 June, 1998Today was my second day on the job. When I interviewed on Monday, I had the impression I would just be there for a short time. I was filling in for a woman who was on disability, and I had the understanding I would be there for three weeks, and that was it. I was asked to interview for the job by my teacher. But at the interview, the subject of staying on if that woman did not return came up. More than once. I looked at it more as helping them out of a tight situation, not as a potential permanent employement. It's a non profit international adoption agency, and I liked the idea of filling in temporarily. It's convenient to my apartment. I can walk there in 5 minutes. It was also part time, so I could continue with my class, which was very important to me. So I was looking forward to this new experience.
The first day was uninteresting. I was shown around the building, which is a turn of the century house, and the offices fill all 3 floors. Most of the staff was introduced to me, and I was shown the lunch room and where supplies were kept. The woman who took me on the tour was the one who hired me, and she made several more references about me staying on past the three week period. I met the woman who was my counterpart, she had Russia and I was to be responsible for the other dozen or so countries. My first morning was spent xeroxing. I was shown how to put various information packets together, and how the postage meter works. So far, not too difficult. I also got to do some filing. At lunchtime, I wandered up the block to where my landlady worked, and sat an talked to her. After lunch, I was on my own. The older woman I shared the office with, which was at one time the dining room of the house, had left for a doctor's appointment. I did some filing, some copying. I was bored. I spent half an hour at the receptionist's desk while she went out to lunch. I spent time with the man who came to repair the copier. I spent a half hour talking to the director's daughter. I left at 4 pm. I felt frustrated, because while everyone there was nice, and I enjoyed meeting them and I thought the whole operation was very worthwhile, it was not what I wanted to do for a real job.
I talked to my teacher after class yesterday. I told her I felt it was a waste of time for both me, and the agency to train me, when I had no interest in continuing. She suggested I talk to the woman who hired me and using assertive "I" statements, tell her how I felt. So first thing this morning, I went to see her, and as I was filling out my W-2 form, I was saying how I didn't think I would be interested in staying on. She thanked me for my honesty and consideration. I agreed to call the Center where I take my class, and tell them to try to find someone else, but that I would also work out the 3 weeks if needed. After all, I can use the money to pay for my fishing trip out to New York state at the end of May.
The woman I shared the dining room with wasn't going to be in till later. I decided to play a trick on her. So I turned her computer on, and changed the wallpaper and the background color. I accidentally turned off the turbo. I copied forms all morning. I talked to other women on the staff. The big excitement of the morning was the delivery of twelve new computers. The delivery man said he would not bring them in the building. So, about half the staff, maybe 7 women, carried the various boxes inside. They were carried up to the second and third floor over the course of the day. I filed the few forms that were waiting for me.
Right before lunch, my coworker returned. I decided to go across the street to the pharmacy and get my prescriptions refilled, came back and ate my sandwich at my desk. It was cool and rainy, so I didn't want to go anywhere. I got to learn a new part of the job. Gluing photographs on paper. Yes, she felt I had to be trained to do this. She actually got quite annoyed that I trimmed the pictures down. So I decided not to upset her, and pasted the entire photograph on the paper. She decided she would make the title page for me, so she went over to the computer. She first noticed something wrong, because I had neglected to turn the monitor off. I sat there, watching her mumble about how she was sure she had turned it off last night. Then she commented on how slow it was going. I then realized how I had turned off the turbo, but didn't do anything. When the new wallpaper came up, a boring honeycomb design instead of just a purple background, she was dumbfounded. She couldn't figure out how this had happened. She must have pondered that aloud a dozen times. And when the desktop was bright pink instead of blue, she was in a panic. She asked me if I had used the computer and I calmly said no. I could barely control my laughter, but I did. I also turned the turbo back on for her.
This same woman brought her dog to work. He was cute, a Scotty. He sat for the most part under the table. She kept talking to him, and feeding him little dog treats. She called one of the social workers to walk him, because she is elderly, and has bad knees. I didn't mind the dog being there, since he was very well behaved. Till all of a sudden, he went nuts, and all I heard was barking. Lots of barking. It seems another woman had brought her dog to the office too, and the Scotty didn't like other dogs. He chased the second dog all the way up to the third floor, and even nipped this labrador on the tail. I got to see this other dog when I was getting some mail ready, and he was a sweetie too.
I was done gluing my photographs, and then I got to make more copies. She felt she had to come in the copy room with me, and show me how to do this. It was extremely complex because you had to make 2 copies of some things, and only one of others. Ummmm… I managed to catch on without too much trouble, and then she left early. When I finished those, I sat at my desk. There really was nothing more to do. No more filing or copying. I sat at my table, watching the clock. One of the social workers came and talked to me for a while. I left at 4 again, and thought again, I sure hoped when I got a real job, it was a lot more exciting than this one.
© 24 April, 1998I love this term. It was used by one of the members of my divorce support group. I think I knew all along Fred was going to be a future former spouse. When I look back to why I married him, I realize it was for all the wrong reasons. No, I was not pregnant, though a lot of my loving relatives assumed that. Aren't families wonderful??? But I was only 21, so why was I getting married? I think then, I was afraid no one else would ever ask me. And I had no ambitions for myself career wise. While my mother stressed the importance of a college education, I heard the underlying message. "It's the best place to meet your husband".
We probably genuinely loved each other in the beginning. We were both sexually pretty naive. I think we both liked playing grown up. At that time, we had both dropped out of Berkeley and he was working for the California Department of Transportation. We rented our first apartment, and had 3 pieces of furniture. A bed, a table, and an antique secretary we bought on an outing to the Napa Valley. We took a cross country trip for several months, because he had never been east of Nevada. We both went back to college, at Chico State this time, and graduated. Took another cross country trip, because we didn't get all the way back east that time.
Things were still good. It was just the two of us, and when we got back from our second trip, we ended up outside of San Luis Obispo. It was then I decided Fred should get a master's degree, and soon we were back in Chicago and he was on full scholarship at Northwestern. Two years later, when he graduated, I was 5 months pregnant, we were moving to Minneapolis and supposedly starting the good life.
Fred worked long and hard at General Mills, yet Evelyn soon had a brother. He was hardly ever home, trying to get his career going. Most nights, we ate dinner without him. Headhunters called him all the time, and next we were in Memphis. We were now home owners, and starting the climb up the corporate ladder. I was a member of the Junior League and other civic organizations. We had two healthy children. His career was going well. Our future looked rosy.
I'm not sure when things started going bad. Maybe it was when he came home drunk for the umpteenth time, and I threw him out. He stopped drinking, but he didn't go to AA long enough to change his behavior. Or maybe it was when Lowell was conceived. For whatever reason, he lost interest in sex with me, and that is one the last times we ever made love. Or maybe it was his career stalling there. He was never home, never around when we needed him. To make up for that, and with my children going to school and not needing me all the time, I got more involved in my volunteer activities.
Eventually, he found a new job and we headed back to Minneapolis, where he worked longer hours and I disappeared into more community affairs. I didn't just wake up one day and know things were no longer good between us, it happened over time. But he brought home a good paycheck and didn't care what I did, and we had three children. So i endured. I spent lots of money, and lots of time doing dull volunteer work. He never wanted me to work at a job, so I was on several boards and too many committees to count. We never saw each other. So how could we talk about things? One event that really tested our marriage was when Fred got fired from the job that brought us back to Minneapolis. I saw it coming, but he didn't. He cancelled out on a family vacation to Montreal to try and sell that company's initial public offering. Two months later he was fired, and had no job. It changed him. He got another job in a few months, which led to him getting his current job He became more withdrawn, more concerned about getting ahead. He was now more distant from us. The kids and I were happier when he wasn't around.
Then it was 1996. What in retrospection, was the worst year of my life. I knew things in our marriage were bad. We went to a marriage counselor, and that didn't help. I found the internet, and then irc, and escaped into that, while he lost himself in his work. Instead of supporting each other when our son had cancer surgery, we each withdrew into our own separate worlds. It was just a matter of time till one of us said what we were both thinking, there was nothing left. Labor Day weekend, it was me. I had had enough. I was more alone married, than I would be alone. I never said the word divorce, but the next morning, he told the kids we were getting divorced. I had prepared them for this, but nothing could really prepare them or me for the reality of it all.
I'm sure he didn't think I would go to a lawyer, but I did, and served him the divorce papers at work, less than 2 weeks after he told the kids. He blamed losing some big deal on me. We ended up living in the same house for a year, while we worked out the financial settlement. I made plans for my new life, which didn't work out. So I adapted them and made the best of things.
© 27 January, 1998Yes, i know Thanksgiving is months away, but last night, as i was falling asleep, i thought about all the things i have to be thankful for, and i want to share some of them with you. I seem to have my most creative thoughts just as i am drifting off, and i was sorely tempted to get out of bed and start writing this last night. This would probably be much different had i dont that, but i didn't.
Firstly, i am thankful i woke up this morning. It was another sunny day here, and i am actually considering staying in Portland. Or maybe moving up the coast a bit. Looking back, the winter wasn't really that bad. There were only 3 major snowfalls. I love looking at the water; it makes me so peaceful. I've made some friends here, it's easy to get around and has lots to offer. I know seeing the sun everyday for over a week has alot to do with the way i feel about Portland.
I am thankful i have choices. The choice to live where i want, to do what i want, to think the way i want to think. If i wanted, i could pack up and drive just about anywhere i wanted to. I have a little bit of financial security, which makes this possible. Everything i do is a choice i have made. From writing this piece to what i'm wearing and what music i'm listening to (Goldman, Friedrichs and Jones... en francais) to what kind of car i drive to what route i am taking to the airport in a little bit. I wish i was getting on a plane going somewhere, but instead my middle child is coming here to spend his spring break with me. This too, was my choice. Rather than me flying back to Minneapolis for his second surgery, i wanted him to come here.
My children. What a blessing they are. Evelyn is such a perfect daughter, i couldn't ask for more from here. I don't know what i did right to have her turn out this way, but i am not going to question my success. We are in daily communication because of computers and the internet. It is only 59 days till we will be together for a long weekend of fly fishing up in the Lake Placid area. Lowell is finally getting his act together. Doing better in school, and dealing with his problems. He is such a loving child, so much like me that we clash much too often. And Greg. What courage, what strength he has. He seems to attract people to him like moths to a flame. He has more friends than i can count, and such a sweet and loving nature.
How thankful i am for my friends. The real ones i have, as well as the online ones. Some of the latter which have crossed over into the former. Nothing better than picking up the phone to talk to a friend. Or getting an email. Maybe they are sick to death of listening to me, but they never let on. A real friend is there for the duration... the good times, the bad times. One of the reasons i am reconsidering my leaving Portland, is i am making friends here now. The women from my class, and a few from the support group. I have been to some of their homes, and some have been here.
I admit it. The only reason i finish college was to get my mother off my back. I have never used my home ec degree, but i have it. I am educated. I love to read, to learn new things, to grow as a person. I have more practical education than formal, but i know i am smart, and can do whatever it is i want. I can go back to school. I can learn photoshop. I can do what i'm doing now, and learning to be assertive and find out what skills i do have that i can translate into skills that will look good on a resume. I have done so many different things as a volunteer over the past 17 years.
I'm healthy and working hard to improve my life. Trying to eat better and exercise more. I am working on improving my mental health, and not be so depressed all the time. This is the only life i get, and since it's more than half over, i want to make the most of what's left. There are things i want to see, places i want to go. I am thankfull i got to use this time to put my life back together, and try and sort things out before i had to go to work. Some time this summer i'm going to move, either somewhere else here in Maine, or go down south. Whatever and wherever i go, i will be thankfull every day that i see the sun, hear the birds and basically try to enjoy life. And find more things to be thankfull for all my life.
© 30 March, 1998There's a song... "life is a highway...". Well, my highway just hit a major speed bump. I was cruising along at about 50, enjoying the view, when, WHAM!!!!! Major crash.
People live in their own little worlds. It's safer that way. It's hard enough dealing with our own day to day shit, without taking on anyone else's. I'm no different. I know in the back of my mind, there are people dying and sick but I don't know them, so I don't think about them.
Yesterday got up at 6 am with some stupid stuff on my mind. Wednesday is garbage day here in Portland, and I hadn't gotten mine ready or put out by the curb. Plus, I was supposed to make fudge for the women in the the fly fishing circle, and I never found the time on Tuesday. So, I got up, did those two things, checked my mail and went back to bed. Woke up when the phone rang. It was my landlord's son, wanting to get into the attic. He needs to go through my apartment to do that. I said come on over.
I packaged up the fudge and went to the post office. I do not care for this post office, but it's the only one around here. It's a bitch to get into the parking lot, but it really wasn't that bad yesterday. And for as crowded as the lot was, it wasn't terrible busy inside. I had everything ready for mailing, and headed out in just a few minutes.
Got ready to go to the Divorce Support Group. I look forward to this, because it's my only real contact with other people. Plus, often the meetings are very informative and helpful. Tonight's program however, was just small groups, so I decided I wouldn't stay. I have been one of the greeters since my second meeting, as I am shy and I like having something to do. Makes me feel useful. So I get there early, and feel like I belong. I get to say hello to everyone, and don't have to sit in a corner somewhere. After the announcements, I grabbed my coat and headed home.
I checked my answering machine. To my surprise, there was a message on it. It was from some lady from the Junior League here, who has called me a few times. I decided to fix a salad, and write some emails. I had started the first email, to a friend on the fly fishing list, when the phone rang. It was my soon to be ex. My first thought, was, oh shit, Lowell got expelled from school. How I wish that had been the news he had to pass on.
My middle son, Greg, had a bone tumor removed almost 2 years ago. To remove it without cutting the cancerous tumor, they took his whole left shoulder. But they were pretty sure they got the tumor in tact. Since I moved here, I'd been bugging Greg to see his cancer doctor. They finally went on Tuesday morning. They found spots on his lungs. Cancer was back. I was in shock. I was furious. I wanted to scream... to break something. But nothing would make Greg better. I knew I was crying. I called my best friend. I wanted her to share my misery. When I hung up the phone, I went back to the computer, because I only have 2 chairs in here anyway. I looked at the email I had started to Mike, and through my tears, I just typed some gibberish and sent it off. I knew he would understand. Friends understand, even though they don't know what to say. Shit, I don't know what to say. I sent off a few more emails, and then went on irc. I find it helps to talk to people, to share my problems with my friends. I messaged my irc son, the person I have known longer than anyone from there. I asked for hugs, and I got them. That's what's nice about having friends, too. They hug you without asking why.
So, I'm calmer now. Thinking somewhat rationally. Waiting for the results of the bone scan he is having today, to see if there are any tumors, anything else bad. You see, if that same cancer comes back, it's fatal. I'm hoping it's a different kind of cancer. It's sick to be hoping for this. It's wrong and it's not fair. They should have a treatment plan by tomorrow. I've already decided I'm moving back to Minneapolis. Been trying to figure out the most logical way to do it. I've decided to drive out now, with my cat. Then fly back, get my stuff and drive back in a u-haul. He might need surgery. He might need chemo or radiation. He might need a combination of them. But the one thing he needs is his mother near by.
Just a speed bump in the highway of life. Dusting myself off, and getting back in the driver's seat. But I'm going to feel these bruises for a long long time.
© 29 January, 1998My 16 year son called me this morning, and within a few minutes of our conversation, we were fighting, It didn't have anything to do with the fact he woke me up. I had asked him what his dad had gotten him for Christmas, not telling him that Lowell told me last night. He said, oh, some junk, but not what he really wanted. What was that, I asked him. A new bass guitar. I asked, how much does the bass cost, and he said, $700. I reminded him that, (1), he had a bass, a very good one, and that (2), $700 was a lot of money, and if he wanted it so badly, he could buy it himself. He's been working for almost a year at a local grocery store, so he should know how long it would take to earn that much money. The fight was really about his attitude. An attitude he got by living in Edina.
Remember when the Preppy Handbook came out, in the '70's? It was a guide in how to look and act like you had old money, or even any money. It had a list of appropriate suburbs one could reside in, and almost insure instant preppiness. Edina was on the list. It's a first ring suburb, which means it's right next to Minneapolis. The joke around the twin cities is Edina stands for Every Day I Need Attention. We moved to Edina in 1988, because we knew their schools good reputation. Evelyn was starting the 4th grade, Greg the 1st and Lowell would be starting soon.
For a suburb of just under 50,000 people, Edina does have a lot of nice amenities. Lots of parks, a community swimming pool, a public golf course, and lots of shopping. The first indoor shopping mall was built in Edina. It's not all million dollar houses, but there are lots of those there. When the city was being developed, in the early 1920's, some man bought a large parcel of land just outside of Minneapolis. There he built a neighborhood of houses. They were all rather pricey, even back then, with the streets closest to Minneapolis having the smaller houses, and the last 4 streets having the bigger houses. He also built a country club for the residents of that neighborhood's use. That neighborhood is known as Country Club, and is one of the more desired neighborhoods to live in. We didn't live there. Nor did we live in Rolling Green or Parkwood Knoll or Indian Hills, the other desirable neighborhoods. But we did live in Edina.
It seems like all Edina kids get this attitude. They are better than anyone else. Around the twin cities, they are called cake-eaters. There are several areas of the twin cities, it wouldn't be wise to wear Edina colors or an Edina jacket. Sports are very important and even more important is winning. That's why my kids stopped playing, because not being natural athletes, they would sit on the sidelines, and watch the better kids play, and the team win. That's not what playing sports should be about in elementary school.
Evelyn doesn't quite have the same attitude as the boys. I took her out of Edina schools in 9th grade, and enrolled her in a Minneapolis school. For by then, I was well aware that public school education in Edina was all reputation, and no substance. So she went to an inner city school. which, had we lived in Country Club, she could have walked to. The program she was in was far superior to anything Edina offered, and we have no regrets. She went to school with kids of all races, all backgrounds and came out a more rounded and accepting person. There are children in the Edina schools of color. But not many. And the Asian kids are mostly adopted by white families. The few black kids are living on welfare. Few people know that Edina actually has poor people.
It angers me that my son is so spoiled, and that is what the fight was about. I can't get him to see that the bass is a thing, and that things aren't important. I know where he gets that attitude though. From his father. I used to thing material things and status were important. I am a member of the Junior League, and still a member of the Woman's Club of Minneapolis. He is a member of the Edina Country Club and drives the biggest Mercedes there is. (and yes, there is a correlation to the car and you know what). Who also bought him a car he thinks is for his personal use. What I learned, and am trying to teach my kids, is that having possessions are not important. They don't make you happy. I think I am fighting a losing battle. Edina and what it stands for is winning.
There are more stories I have written to read. Please remember these are my original stories and thoughts, and to copy or otherwise use them without my permission is a copyright violation. I would love to hear your random thoughts on any of these stories.