Most likely you followed the link from my first, second or fourth page of Random Thoughts stories. Here are some more, and I hope these are just as amusing and thought provoking. And, as always, your comments are appreciated.
Saturday was Waitangi Day. Never heard of it? Neither had I, until a little over three years ago. It's celebrated in New Zealand, and it commemorates New Zealand's becoming an established nation in 1840. It is similar then to the US's Fourth of July. When we first heard of Waitangi Day, I did the same thing I did just now. Surfed the internet to find out more about it. Yet now, it is a sad milestone I will never forget.
I'd always done volunteering in my adult life. And I've done just about everything, from answering phones to bulk mailings to chairing committees to sitting of Boards of Directors. I've sat on dozens of committees, but I eventually realized I much preferred hands on work. My kids used to go with me when they were small. They've all done their share of stuffing envelopes, sitting through boring meetings and other activities. I have always tried to impress on them that they were luckier than most people.
So when Evelyn had to do 50 hours of community service as a requirement for the International Baccalaureate diploma, we decided we wanted to do something together. We ended up doing two different activities, and they both ended up including the whole family. I believe Evelyn had over 300 hours of community service to apply for the diploma, which she did earn, and also won the school's volunteer of the year honor. None of which have anything to do with Waitangi Day.
I'd been involved with Children's Cancer Research Fund for several years. CCRF was started by a woman who's daughter died of cancer some nearly 20 years ago now. She gathered a group of her friends and they put on an event to raise money for the University of Minnesota's pediatric cancer research. Diane probably never dreamed it would still be a viable organization today, raising over several million dollars annually and still funding important research. And when I started volunteering for them, I never dreamed my own son would be a patient there and possible recipient of the knowledge the doctors there had gathered through all the research. One of the offshoots of CCRF is a program called Care Partners. But this too, has nothing to do with Waitangi Day.
Evelyn and I decided to become Care Partner volunteers. Basically, what this involves is being a friend to a bone marrow patient and their family who are at the U. They were usually there from somewhere other than the twin cities, and didn't know their way around or didn't have a car. Some volunteers took the family on errands as they needed. We had to apply, be interviewed and then go through an 18 hour training program. We got our first family a few weeks later. A 20 year old girl who didn't have cancer who was there with her mother. She had a disease called MLD which is a neurological genetic disease, and a very horrible way to die. Her two older brothers also had it, and Christine had the genes, but no signs of the disease. The bone marrow transplant she would undergo was her only hope of not dying from the disease. The doctors were hoping that by giving her a bmt it would stop her from getting MLD.
We made an appointment to meet Chris and her mother at the Ronald McDonald house at the end of November, 1995. For whatever reason, we didn't find them, and ended up meeting them for the first time at the hospital. Chris was an intelligent, beautiful and courageous young woman, and we liked her and her mother immediately. We were only required to contact them once a week, but it ended up we saw them almost daily, and spoke on the phone at least once a day, too. We watched Chris endure the chemo and radiation she had to under go before the bone marrow transplant. We watched Chris lose her hair, but never her spirits. We celebrated Christmas with them, bringing them a small plastic tree we all decorated. My entire family visited that day, and I brought the boys with me on several other occasions. One day, she received a calendar as a gift, and it had all these strange worldwide holidays on it. The doctors had told Chris it takes several weeks for a bmt to take hold, and that if all went well, she would be out in about 6-8 weeks. That took us to Waitangi Day, February 6. That was the day we picked as her target date for Chris to be well enough to leave the hospital and stay at the Ronald McDonald house till she was healthy enough to return home.
I won't go into everything that happened. Chris was recovering wonderfully from the bmt, which in case you're interested is just having a bag of bone marrow dripped into you via an IV. She didn't get any mouth sores, she was alert and upbeat and starting getting white blood counts earlier than expected. She kept going up in her wbc too. Things were starting to look positive. There was even talk of Chris being discharged from the hospital in late January, way ahead of our hoped for Waitangi Date. Till that Saturday, when Chris complained her stomach hurt. She had never once complained in the 6 weeks I'd know her to that point. And we'd had many long and serious talks about things she probably didn't want to worry her mother about. She told me how she never wanted to end up like her brothers. We talked about how life had no guarantees. I loved her like my own child. I took it upon myself to let the nurses know that Chris was in pain, but it was too late. The chemo and radiation had damaged her liver and kidneys, and she was suddenly dying. It all happened so fast. I let Evelyn go see Chris while she could still speak, then spared her from the death. The day Chris died, Evelyn and I went to the Ronald McDonald house and helped her family pack, and drove them to the airport. They couldn't wait to leave Minnesota. Chris was buried on Waitangi Day, three years ago.
A lot has happened in those three years, and it all started with Chris. She'll never know what an impact her life had on mine, and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of her. She gave me the courage to face things in my life, and make the necessary changes. I also found a new holiday to reflect on life and how short it can be and how uncertain the events. Millions of people in New Zealand celebrated Waitangi Day, but not like I did. I love you Christine.
©8 February, 1999This isn't a book review, although i will say i loved the book. I had hoped for a love story and instead the book was about journeys. At least i was warned about that part way into the book, so i was prepared. I had started the book up in Maine, and just couldn't get interested in the story and put it down. One of my many Jim friends kept telling me i needed to read it. And now, living in North Carolina, i had to. Since it's set here. So, i read it and just finished it about a week ago.
I was overwhelmed by the author's use of language. Every word was carefully selected and crafted to paint a visual picture. Not being a writer, i am always impressed by people who truly are. I read the book slowly, to appreciate the beauty of the words. Such as this paragraph :
"He thought on homeland, the big timber, the thin air and chill all the year long. Tulip poplars so big through the trunk they put you in mind of locomotives set on end. He thought of getting home and building him a cabin on Cold Mountain so high that not a soul but the nighthawks passing acorss the clouds in autumn could hear his sad cry. Of living a life so quiet he would not need ears. And if Ada would go with him, there might be the hope, so far off in the distance he did not even really see it, that in time his despair might be honed off to a point so fine and so thing that it would nearly be the same as vanishing."
The story is about a wounded confederate soldier, named Inman, who after 4 years of fighting was severely wounded yet recovered and decided to make his way back to his home and his sweetheart, Ada. The story is also about Ada, who has faced a number of life challenges since the death of her father. Being a hopeless romantic, i wanted them to get together and live a long happy life. But Charles Frazier wrote about the journey the both took instead. And since i am on a journey of sorts, i could relate to the book.
I too am on a journey. Trying to rebuild my life, and looking for a place to settle in so i can do that. In the book, Inman travels from Raleigh to Cold Mountain, near Asheville. It takes him months to get there, and it is not an easy trip. I just went to Asheville last weekend, in my car, in relative safety and it took me 4 hours. All 240 miles, over the interstate. And i felt as though Inman was there with me. As i drove, i recalled some of the experiences he had, some of the places that were described in the book. I looked along the sides of the highway, through the trees and tried to imagine walking that distance. While keeping off main roads and away from towns. With little food, no modern conveniences. Afraid of being robbed, or caught by Guard who were rounding up outliers. I couldn't imagine it. I could imagine the countryside as it might have been 140 years ago.
The mountains are visible in the horizon outside of Hickory. They look mysterious, covered in mist and fog. Just like in the pictures. You start going up to the mountains at mile 94. The climb actually starts earlier, but you feel the terrain changing about then. The mountains seem closer, yet more remote. Driving into Asheville from the east, there is a rather steep incline, and once you reach the top, you are now in the mountains. I could sense Inman's happiness at being almost home. I was going to Asheville, to see if it would become my new home. I was looking at the scenery i drove past as though i might find something. I didn't though. I drove into Asheville and nothing happened. It didn't give me the feeling that i was at the place i needed to be. It might have been the weather. It was chilly and grey. The weather forecast promised snow. That day, i went around on a tour of the town with a realtor. The next day, we looked at houses, and it started snowing. Big wet flakes. I might as well have been in Minnesota. When we got done looking at houses, i went back to the motel. I decided to go home, back to Raleigh and avoid the storm they were predicting for the area.
I didn't sense Inman with me on my drive back. His journey ended at the mountains, but mine didn't. I had hoped it might, but at least for now, it hasn't. Like Ada, i have to continue to struggle to grow and evolve. My friend Jim said i was a lot like Ada, and i took that as a compliment. I think i would have liked her, the way she became, better than the way she was in the start of the book. I know i like myself a lot better now, than the way i used to be. I hated to finish Cold Mountain. Stories that well written are rare, and a treasure to discover. I know having read the book before i went to the mountains, colored my view of the area. Now i just need to go back on a beautiful spring day, sit by a stream, and see if i look at the mountains in a more favorable light. I know i will.
© 22 February, 1999Last night, i went to McDonald's for dinner. I'd been thinking about Mickey D's french fries for a couple of days now. From my window near the computer, i can see cars come and go. And in the last few days, my neighbors have come home from wherever bringing in McDonalds. That's what started me thinking about getting something from there. On the whole, i prefer Burger King, but i don't like their fries. And it was the fries i was craving. There's also a Hardee's and Wendy's near by, but i had it in my head to go to McDonalds. Even though they didn't have any good toys in the happy meals.
It was a late dinner, and there was no one in the restaurant. I love how now all McDonald's have their own personalities. This one must be the official Cary one. There were pictures of old landmarks on the wall, and a big map of Cary. One of those picture ones with all the local hot spots. But being that this is Cary, each table had a vase with fresh flowers on it. The one about two miles away doesn't have fresh flowers. I've been in ones with all sorts of strange themes. It depends on where you are, but this is the first one i've ever been in that i recall, with fresh flowers. I felt like i was in someone's home.
There was a McDonald's on Victory Street in Van Nuys when i was in high school. I remember the first time i went there. It was after school, and i went with my friend from my apartment building, Mike Gold. Back then hamburgers were 19 cents, and i forget what everything else was. I didn't particularly like the burgers (this was before the big mac, etc). But i loved their fries. That was the original design. The red and white striped building. The golden arches. The sign that said over 1 million sold.. or whatever the number was. It was right by the Victory Drive In, which has been torn down for a mini shopping center. And the McDonald's has been upgraded. Just think how rich that franchise owner must be.
I don't really remember fast food places being a big part of my life till my kids came along. I think it was around that time that they started popping up all along the interstates, and in neighborhoods. When i was first married, my ex worked in pizza restaurants, so i paid attention to pizza chains, but that was it. When we were in Chicago for grad school for him, we ate all the time at Vienna hot dog stands. I guess Chicago has fast food, but who's going to eat there when you can eat a Vienna hot dog. Where we moved to in Minneapolis, after he graduated, I think there were a few fast food restaurants around there. I know there are now.
It was as the kids got older, started watching television, that fast food became more of a staple in our diets. With activities after school, it was often times easier to grab a quick bite at a Mickey D's than go home and try to fix something. By then they liked Taco Bell, too. And of course, when we traveled, we had to stop at someplace familiar instead of trying someplace new. They were quicker too, for getting to our destinations. That's why it's called fast food. But the biggest draw sometimes, was the toy. Especially as my kids got older. Yup.... many times we were forced to go to one or another fast food place JUST for the toy. He-man toys. Tick toys. Rainbow Brite toys. Muppet toys. Smurf toys. And yes, the Beanie Babies. I hope to never have to eat another happy meal, but i will... if Evelyn wants the darn toy. I'll even drive to every darn McDonald's in whatever town i'm in, and even neighboring ones, to make my kids happy.
Last night, i had an Arch Deluxe. It was ok. Unlike Burger King, you can't make changes in the sandwich, and i don't like ketchup. I guess i had been thinking about it for so long, that it wasn't as good as i had hoped it would be. I'm glad i went, i needed to get out, but on the whole, i would have rather had a whopper and McDonald's french fries, but i'm not that crazy. I just wanted the fries, and to satisfy a craving i'd had for a few days. Like most things you dream about, reality just never is as good as dreaming about it. Thank goodness my dreams are small because it would be awful to have a big dream turn out to be just ok, just enough, and never be satisfied. It would be nice, though, to have one come true one day. I guess i'll settle for getting french fries.
©20 October 1998On March 3rd, a group of 13 women met for the first time. We were strangers, and trying to sort our lives and futures out. We came from different backgrounds, different life experiences. We were scared, most of us recently divorced and starting out on our own. We came to take classes in assertiveness and career life planning.
We slowly have become a cohesive unit. Friends. Supporting each other. Seeing and talking to each other outside of class. I am amazed by this, mostly because of our diverse backgrounds. Some are from small towns in Maine, and think Portland is the big city. One woman raises sheep, and spins the wool. A few of us are college educated. Some worked in a factory till they got laid off. A few have kids still at home. Most of us have left unhappy marriages, which is the single thread holding us together.
The other day we had a group assignment. It was the first time we had a whole group project. We have been broken up into smaller groups, but this was something new. Three of the women weren't there, so there were just 10 of us. We were told to create a flag, out of some odds and ends the teacher gave us. We were supposed to come up with a theme, and work together. And in the middle of the project, our teacher said she was going to give us a role to play.
I decided to take a passive role, and watch what happened. Linda took on the leadership role. She does very intricate needlework, and one day her husband said to her, tomorrow i'm going to the bank, and the following day, i'm leaving you. And he did. She got right to work, and started making the flag. She went out and got a branch and started making the flag and then took string to make it a banner. Cindy suggested hand prints, and we all liked that suggestion, but Hillary was complaining we didn't have a theme. It didn't stop us, and we got the paints, and began.
Janice dipped her whole hand in red paint. I just put my hand in lightly, and made my mark on our *flag*. Caroline suggested we also make something that out of felt that we felt symbolized our transformation. It was at that point, that we were given our new roles. I was supposed to act tense. Our teacher called us over, and we picked out of a jar. I didn't realize why Viola kept talking about the curtains in the office next door. And Hillary started saying she thought she was getting Janice's cold. Cindy couldn't make up her mind about anything. But Caroline was almost like a cheerleader. I am closest to her. We sit next to each other, and have visited each other outside of class. We eat lunch together, and have become quite close, and she is usually quiet and reserved. We were all laughing, because we were over acting. Viola kept talking about those darn curtains, and i kept looking at her. I know she loves to sew, so i thought perhaps there was something interesting about that, that she would recognize, and i wouldn't.
Janice and i kept looking at each other, and just laughing. Finally, the teacher said it was time to finish, and at that last minute, i added a button to my hand print. I whined about how they were carrying the flag at the wrong angle, and that my button would slip down since the glue wasn't dry yet. I was still in my part.
We went back to our meeting room, and began to discuss the activity. We were still laughing hard, and the teacher had a hard time quieting us down. We went around the room, giving our observations of how the activity went. Everyone agreed it was going smoothly, till we switched into our roles. We all noticed how difficult it had become to complete our task. But it wasn't until we got to Linda, and she was asked, what role she had... and she said, as matter of fact as possible, she didn't have one, that she didn't know we had all gotten our roles. She had been in the bathroom, washing paint off her hand, and when she came back, she thought she was in the twilight zone. What had been a cooperative, friendly experience was now a disaster, with everyone being difficult. Well, we all burst out laughing. The look on her face was incredible. She really didn't have a clue as to what had happened, because she didn't get a slip from the teacher.
I think that activity brought our group even closer together. And we have a very sad looking flag to prove it. It shows all our hand prints in a big circle. And next to them, we put our names, and a little design in felt to signify something special to each of us. It showed our individuality, our cohesiveness, our willingness to cooperate, and it showed how much fun a group of women can have doing a silly project that means nothing to anyone but us. We aren't there yet, but i know we all will make it eventually.
© 22 April, 1998When i first started surfing the net, back in September, 1995, it was my dream to have a homepage. Just a little bit of information about me, and my family and my interests. Nothing big. But i had to have one. This was the new revolution and i had to be a part of it.
After i figured out how to irc, i met a friend named Greg Mikkelson, who happened to live in the twin cities too, and he offered to make me a web page. He took what i wrote, and put it into html, the language web pages are written in, and attached it to his site. My initial site was 3 pages, one about me, one about friends, and links. Every time i had to make a change, i would email Greg and he would do it. I felt guilty about bothering him, even though he never complained, and decided i would learn how to do it myself.
When i was visiting my friend Doug, he showed me how to use a web editor, and some basic html. I went home and started creating Chez Sharon. The hardest part of doing a web site is deciding what to say. I had been surfing the net about a year by then, and had gathered a large number of sites devoted to creating web sites and sites with graphics on them. So i was ready to go. I downloaded the same web editor as Doug, and off i went. Chez Sharon started out as an index page, a page about me, my family, friends and some of my favorite links. It would be hosted on my internet service provider's server. But now the problem was, how to get the pages there. They sent me detailed information on what to do, but being a non techie, it was all greek to me. One day when one of Evelyn's friends was visiting, i corralled him and he uploaded my site for me. It was a very thrilling moment. However, he didn't really explain what he had done, so when it came time to make a change, i didn't know what to do.
It was AtomicDog who helped me with that. Over the phone, he explained to me how ftp works. Suddenly, it seemed so simple. I knew what i was doing!! And my web site began to grow. I added my Site of the Week next. Another friend, Jim Bolsolver of England designed my *award* which i supposedly gave out to the chosen site of the week. I don't bother to tell anyone they have won this *prestigious* award, because i can't even get this site listed on yahoo. Although, it was pretty exciting, when one large commerical site i had chosen, emailed me, thanked me and ASKED for a copy of the award.
As time went on, my site (website, not home page) evolved and grew. I switched web editors to Homesite, which i love and even paid for. I added a separate page for my awards, none of which are real, but that's ok. I added a piece about friendship, after someone from irc pissed me off over nothing. I bought the domain name UndertheSun with Doug. We had grand plans of it being a money maker and top site, but that fell through. So eventually, I put my site on the underthesun server, too. I added my bookmarks, which are terribly outdated. Then a page for women's resources, a page about fly fishing and then my diary about my fly fishing experiences. I did that when i was waiting for my temporary settlement to be agreed upon and i could move out. Lastly, i added my random thoughts. What had started out as a dream, was now a reality, and it was something i created on my own.
I've had various guestbooks on my site, but they always seems to crash or disappear, so i pretty much gave up on them, and just said, if you like my site, have a comment or criticism, to email me. About once a week, i get an email from someone who visited my site, and took the time to write me. It never fails to thrill me. My site gets an average of 4 hits a day, which is nothing compared to yahoo, but to me, it's incredible. I recently added a counter to my fly fishing site, because a lot of people come to that page first, since i am on two fly fishing rings. I've even made a few friends from people who wrote me, and have written to them off and on. I have my home on the web, and i'm proud of it.
Yesterday, i got an email from someone, don't even know if it is male or female. The email said, "i found your web site in the book fly fishing for dummies . its the best site i seen for fly fishing . thanks " His or her grammar, not mine. I said, WHAT!?!?! My site was listed in a BOOK!! I couldn't believe it, and it was too late to run out to a bookstore to check. So, being the internet junkie i am, i went to the dummies book web site. I entered fly fishing for dummies, and got a few options. I selected the table of contents... and to my utter shock, under chapter 21, it said, on the web site, Sharon's fly fishing links. It had to be me... didn't it? Needless to say, first thing this morning, even before i showered, i ran out to Borders to check. I could have, and should have walked there, it's almost next door, but i figured if they didn't have it, i'd go to another book store. They did. First i looked in the index. No, i wasn't listed there. Then i went to chapter 21. And on page 330, there it was. In bold type, Sharon's Fly Fishing Links. Under that, the url. Then this little blurb:
"I try to stay away from websites with first names... but I'll point out this one because it does offer a ton of links.. most of which actually lead to useful information! It also offers many linds for the growing number of women fly fishers.. a trend i applaud."
I wanted to jump and shout and tell everyone in the bookstore that was ME in the book!! But i didn't. I restrained myself. I did tell the woman who rang up the sale. There was my little website in a nationally sold book, along with Orvis, Trout Unlimited, the Virtual Flyshop and some sites about weather and river conditions. Now i understood why so many small businessed emailed me, wanting me to link their site to mine. I had no idea my site was in a BOOK. Until some anonymous person took the time to email me, and tell me they liked my site. I finally got my 15 minutes of fame.
©13 November, 1998So you don't believe in woman's intution?? Usually I follow my gut instincts and they lead me in the right direction. Here is a story about one time when I didn't listen to my feelings.
We lived in Minneapolis before. Right after Fred got out of grad school, and he went to work for General Mills and I was pregnant. He met this woman while working there, and it turned out that she and her husband lived down the street from us. So we all became good friends. When we moved to Memphis, Stephanie was crushed. So was I, but more because I wasn't happy about moving to Memphis. She cried about how much she would miss us. And we vowed to stay in touch, and visit each other often. So that first year, they flew down to Memphis to celebrate Christmas with us.
The next year, we promised we would come back to Minneapolis to visit them. I had two small children at the time. Evelyn was 4 and Greg just 2. We decided we couldn't afford to fly, so we would drive. Then we would go back through Chicago, and visit my grandparents, who would be visiting from California. Sounds like a good plan... right??
Around Thanksgiving, I began bugging Fred about the trip to Minneapolis. It was too far. The weather would be too cold. Let's just go to Chicago and see my grandparents. I didn't want to be gone that long. But he said that we promised them we would visit. I must have complained about going daily. I really did not want to go to Minneapolis, even though there were other people I wanted to see, and things I missed about the city. But not that Christmas. Not this winter. The more I protested the trip, it seemed like the more insistent he got about taking it. You have to understand, I love to travel. We had gone on lots of trips over the years. So it wasn't that. It was that I didn't want to make this trip.
Even the morning we left, I was imploring him. Let's just drive to Chicago. By then, we knew the temperature in the Twin Cities hadn't been above zero in ages, and they were in the middle of a cold spell. I couldn't sway Fred. So, off we went. He loves to drive, so I just sat there and whined about going. Past St. Louis, then to Kansas City. We got to Des Moines around midnight. There hadn't been any snow on the ground, and everything was going smoothly. I wanted to stop there for the night, but Fred said, oh, it's only 3 or 4 more hours to the Twin Cities, let's keep going. Mistake number one.
North of Des Moines, there was snow. And ice. And it started getting VERY cold. The car was fairly new, and he was zipping along well above the speed limit. And suddenly, we were off the road. We had found a patch of ice, and went careening off the highway. Apparently, several other cars had done the same thing, and there were some men who were pulling them back on to the road. They were either good samaritans or totally insane. When they came to help us, we had a slight problem. Three of the tires came off the rims, leaving us with basically, three flat tires. It's now 1 am. There are two now awake, crying and COLD children in the car. I had an extra blanket, but it was at least -20 degrees Farhenheit outside. A state trooper came, and Fred went off with him. They said they would be right back. And that I should run the engine every half hour, to keep us warm. Needless to say, I was furious. First of all, we were still sitting where our car had spun off the road, and I was terrified another car would do the same and hit us. And I was trying to cope with the kids, who couldn't understand why or where we were, any better than I did. And I was freezing. So I started the car, warmed us up, and shut it off. I couldn't figure out where Fred and the trooper had gone, and was scared. It seemed like forever before they came back, because besides having to call for a tow truck, which took a while to get there, the trooper had to set out signs warning others it was slippery where we were. By the time they did come to get us, the battery was dead because I tried too hard to keep us warm, and ran it down. So we all climbed into the police car.
We drove somewhere, to a gas station that had a restaurant attached. They let us sleep on the floor of the restaurant for a few hours, while the tires were put back on the rims, and the battery charged. I somehow managed to keep my thoughts to myself. I was so tired and scared and cold, all I wanted to do was sleep. Even on the floor of a restaurant. A few hours later, our car was ready to continue. Please, I begged Fred, let's just head east to Chicago. Let's not go to Minneapolis. He dismissed my remarks and said, they're expecting us, and we continued north. Somewhere near Rochester, our heater gave out. I'm not sure how, but it did. We drove on to St. Paul shivering. I think it was about 9 am when we finally got to Stephanie's house. I was exhausted, and after a few polite words, went to lie down. Stephanie took Evelyn with her to the grocery store, and Fred and Arlo went in the kitchen to have some coffee. They had a dog, but he was down in the basement.
I don't think I had been lying down more than 15 minutes, when I heard screaming. I ran to the other room, and saw Greg's tiny head wrapped in a bloody towel, and Arlo was calling 911. He had let his dog upstairs, and his dog decided Greg would be a tasty snack. So I got to ride in an ambulance. I was convinced the dog had taken out Greg's eye because no one would remove the towel. When we got to the hospital, I had to wait outside. And wait. Fred and Arlo drove over to find out was going on. And we waited. Finally some doctor came out and said Greg would need surgery. And yes, he had been bitten near the eye, but it was still in the socket. A while later, Greg was operated on, and he was ok. The dog had bitten out his tear duct, and a large chunk of his forehead, but it appeared his vision would be fine. I didn't need to say anything to Fred. He knew what I was thinking. Here was my precious baby, with a huge scar on his skull and forehead, and this rubber tubing coming out of his tear duct. His face was bruised and he had this covering over his eye. I got to sleep with him in the hospital that night. He came home two days later, but he looked terrible. The dog was not let out of the basement the rest of the time we were there.
It was still bitterly cold and Fred had the heater fixed while I sat in the hospital. If you don't keep your car in a garage, or even if you do, many people have engine heaters they plug in overnight to keep their engines warm enough to start in the morning. They only had a one car garage, so we left ours outside. Living now in the South, we wouldn't have had one. And sure enough, the battery wouldn't start the next afternoon. We belonged to AAA, but when it is that cold, they get rather busy. I think it took 7 hours for someone to come and jump the car. Fred went out with him at around 2 am, and the battery exploded in the man's face. Luckily, he wasn't hurt. None of his face was exposed to the frigid air temperatures. Though, the way things were going, I was surprised he wasn't killed. The curse was just on us.
I'm happy to say nothing terrible happened in Chicago. Or on the way home. Greg still has problems with that eye, but his vision is fine. The tube came out a month or so later. Another operation. We are still friends with Stephanie and Arlo. When we crossed over from Arkansas into Tennessee, I felt like kissing the ground. My house never looked so beautiful. And it was WARM. I didn't say anything to Fred, except that if I ever had such strong feelings about not taking a trip again, he could go without me. Next time I have such strong feelings about anything, I am going to follow my woman's intution. And I got to ride on a firetruck a few years later, on a nursery school field trip.
©17 June, 1997It was Tuesday, February 19, 1957. I don't remember much of that morning. So whether or not it is true that my mom sent me and my brother in to wake up my dad, and we really lifted his eye lids to try and wake him, it didn't change the outcome. He was still dead. He was 34 years old, and hadn't been sick. I don't know if we screamed for my mom. I suppose we did.
I was 5 years old and my whole world had changed in an instant.
Even before this, I did not have a normal childhood, if there is such a thing. Eight months before the polio vaccine came out, my brother got polio. He was the first child and first grandchild. The so called golden child. I was second and a girl. I didn't count for anything. I know how it is with your first child now, since I have three of my own. I was 3 years old when he got sick, so the feeling that I am not as important as my brother, and that it should have been me that got polio, has always been a part of my life.
I have a picture of my mom and dad, all dressed up, with my brother and me in our pajamas. I had it enlarged, because I have so few pictures of him. He was tall and had wavy hair. My mother was tall, and I still think the dress she was wearing in that picture is so elegant. They must have really been in love with each other. My mother never remarried. I like to think that I was happy then.
My dad was a bookkeeper at an uncle's garage. Back in 1957, he was making $75 a week. We lived in a nice house on the south side of Chicago. He didn't go to college. He had been in the army in World War II, stationed in Italy. He was born in Chicago and lived there his whole life. My grandparents both moved to Chicago from Russia. My grandfather had had another wife before my grandmother, who died in the flu epidemic in 1918. No one ever talked about it, but my mother once saw a picture of my grandfather with this beautiful woman, and asked his sister who the woman was. My Aunt Sarah started crying and told my mother. My mother didn't think my dad ever knew this. I think my grandmother pursued my grandfather, and they got married. My dad was their only child.
I am not sure how my parents met. I know they didn't go to the same high school. They met after he came back from the war. They were married in 1948. My brother was born the next year, and I followed two years after that. For the first few years of my life, we lived in a four-plex at 7842 Clyde Avenue. My father's parents lived upstairs, my mother's parents lived across the hall from us, and the other apartment was occupied by my father's uncle and his wife. We moved out sometime after I was born, to a house about a mile away.
I don't recall much of my life before February 19. I went to school and was in kindergarten. My dad bought me an Elvis record, which I still have.
We used to play board games, and I have managed to find most of the ones I remember in antique stores. I am still looking for Feed the Elephants. When we used to play, my dad always got a one or a two. That was so amusing to me. The only other memory (or is it a family legend?) is that he once put a whole piece of rye bread in his mouth.
He took us to Florida the winter before he died. I have lots of pictures of me, my mom and brother from that trip, but none of him. He took all the pictures. We rented a convertible and stayed there two weeks. The place we stayed had a program for kids, so my brother and I went to that, and my parents went off on their own. I never asked my mom what they did.
I used to try and find out more about my father. I asked his best friend and all he told me was how nice my dad was. My brother remembered that we had almost bought another house in the north suburbs. He remembered looking at the house, but my dad died before he could actually buy it.
This is part of what I have spent the rest of my life looking for. Bits and pieces of my life before this date, and trying to imagine what it might have been like had it not happened. Would my father have been proud of me?
Would he have taught me how to drive? Stayed up till I got home after a date? If I hadn't needed male approval, would I have gotten married so young and to the first man that asked me?? I will never know how different I could have been as a person if I had had my father in my life a little longer than that 5 years.
© 18 December, 1996My first what?
I've lived in Prescott almost two years now and when I first moved here, several people told me about javelinas. They are animals that sort of resemble pigs, but I had never heard of them. I thought they were pulling my leg about them, that they were fictional animals like jackalopes. People said just leave some food outside, and they'll be in your yard forever. Or they'd tell me; they had them in their yard every day. I guess that was before more and more of Prescott got developed. I really didn't believe them until I saw them for my own eyes.
I kept hoping I'd see one of these imaginary animals with my children. They thought javelinas were as fake as I did, but we just never saw any. We saw books about them. We saw stuffed animals. We even saw a yellow warning sign saying, "Javelina's Crossing". But the darn creatures kept well out of our sight. So I continued to be convinced they were fiction.
It was early on Saturday morning in November and normally, I would still have been asleep. The day was bright and the air crisp. I had somewhere to be at 9 am so I was out of the house and on my way into town at 8:30. I started down Sunrise Boulevard towards the highway when I saw something. At first, I thought it was a dog. It was too big to be a dog, and then it hit me. They were javelinas. There were two of them and they were big and a muddy grey color. I wanted to stop and look, but they were already heading into the brush. I was however, convinced I had finally seen a javelina, and now I was a believer.
Before getting to my meeting, I had to stop to fill my car with gas, which is why I had left earlier than I would have normally. I had no sooner turned off the engine when I got out my cell phone and called my daughter. It was two hours later there, and she was actually in her dorm room. Breathlessly, I told what I'd seen. I was so excited. I told her at least three times before my tank was filled and it was time for me to disconnect. I can't drive and talk on the phone since I have a stick shift, in case you were wondering why I didn't call her immediately.
I arrived at the location where the meeting was held, but before I went inside, I called Evelyn again. I had forgotten to tell her the first time that I had seen more than one. She laughed and told me to go into the meeting. The excitement of finally seeing with my own eyes hadn't quite worn off. I sat through the meeting but my mind wasn't really on what the speaker was saying.
That was two months ago and I have yet to see another javelina. Were my eyes playing tricks on me and what I saw were really some big dogs? Are they something native Arizonans make up to fool us newcomers? No, I know what I saw. Even though it was early morning and the sun was bright, I am convinced I saw my first javelinas. Now I wonder when I will see my second and if it will seem as exciting as the first. I wish it would be, but I know better.
©7 January, 2001There 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.