March 24, 2014

This weekend our extended family lost a member.  My son-in-law lost his brother.  I didn't know Tootsie that well, didn't know him at all, actually.  I met him a total of, maybe, three times.  But, I know this about him:  He was very  much loved, and that, alone, is quite a legacy.

  Also, today is my Dad's birthday.  To be honest, my father wasn't the easiest man to know. Quiet, didn't talk a lot.  Of course, when he did talk, you really needed to listen , because he didn't tend to say things twice.    He was a good family man, as he understood the job.  Not a 'buddy', most definitely not that.   He was a father...he provided us shelter, food , support and love.  He kept a watchful eye on our doings, and if he thought we were going astray, he'd , well, he'd tell Mother to handle it. Except for the time, that is, when he and Mother came home early from a weekend trip and found me cozied up in the back seat of a boyfriend's Pontiac  GTO.  THAT, he handled himself.  He didn't strike me.  He  didn't strike his daughters. However,  I didn't get out of that house for what seemed like years.  Looking back, it was  probably only a couple of  months.

These two occurrences, the passing of Oliver's beloved brother, and the birthday of my beloved Daddy, have caused me to think about re-thinking things.  It is a reminder that we are not promised tomorrow, not promised five minutes from now.

 I don't want to wash family laundry here, but I spent a lot of years with an individual who lived for tomorrow, who sacrificed time with his family for the  job and money that he thought would bring him happiness.  He thought he'd have time, I guess, but that's not the way it turned out.  His time on earth ended before he had a chance to see what terrific adults his children became and before he saw the gorgeous and sweet grandchildren he had. .

So, as the day comes to a close, I am thinking:  If we are not doing what we want to do, why not?  If our work takes us away from our loved ones, then it darned well better be good and valued work.  Otherwise, why do it?   Happy Birthday, Daddy.  Safe passage,Tootsie.  To have been loved as much as you both were, you had to have given  a lot of love.  And, that is, as they say, every thing.

 And, Daddy, I'm sorry about that GTO thing, but Daddy? !  It was red, black interior and four on the floor!  He let me drive it  around Mohawk Park!  Still no slack, huh?

Christmas Memories

For the greater part of the year, our dining table was my Mother's office.  To remove one scrap of paper from that table, without Mother's permission, was to just beg for trouble.  But, on Christmas, that would change.

When I was very little, both of my Grandmothers made Christmas dinner. However, by the time I was in upper elementary, Mother had begun to have everyone for dinner at our house. Mother set the most beautiful Christmas table.  Red tablecloth with gold thread decoration.  She would put the big candlesticks in the middle and place the turkey at Daddy's end where he could carve it easily. The table had  been set with the china that Grandmother Britton had painted , and the good silver had been brought out. Into my Great Grandmother's green glass compote, Mother would put the cranberry sauce.

The green glass compote came with  something of a story.  There had been two matching compotes.  One had belonged to my Great Grandmother, MeMaw. Her name was Blanche Malone Capps, and she had been my Grandmother Baker' s mother. The other compote was the exact replica, and had been discovered at a second hand store.  For years they had stood at opposite ends of the table.  One was filled with jellied cranberry sauce, the other held the whole berry type.  Well, it's unclear who was responsible but what is known is that one year, when I was in elementary school, one of them had gotten broken.  The question became :  Which one  had been broken?  The junk store compote, or heaven forbid.....MEMAW'S?  My Grandmother decided , based on nothing more than what she wanted to be true , that her Mother's dish  had survived, and the broken one had been the one which had been rescued from Mr. Neely' s second hand store.My Grandmother was good at that positive thinking stuff. If she,wanted something to be true, it was true.  Simple as that.

Back to the table.  Once she had determined that it  was presentable, Mother would light the candles, summon us to gather and call Daddy to get the camera.  Most of the time. there were two many diners and a card table had to be set up in the living room for  overflow. However, for the picture, we would all assemble in the dining room, prepared to say cheese.  My unmarried Uncle, Dick, and if he was between wives, my Uncle Leland.  My Grandparents, Aunt Georgia, Aunt Susie , Aunt Juanita and Uncle Raymond and anyone else who wanted to come.  After dinner, other loved ones , who had eaten in other places would stop by for dessert

The day would end the same way every year. After the turkey had been stripped to the bone, the potatoes, gravy and stuffing eaten, and there was nothing left of the sweet  potatoes but a few crusts of cooked on marshmallow, Daddy would, once again, reach for the camera. He would proceed to photograph the post dinner scenario. It annoyed Mother, I can hear her say 'Oh, Russell' right now as clearly as if she were standing here next to me. I think he thought it was funny, but I, also, think it was his way of making note that our family had gotten through another year and had arrived at that  time and place together and with the food, shelter and love that too many people lacked.  It was his way of giving a thank you.

I love you all.  Happy Holidays

December 22, 2013

As moat everyone knows, by now, I am being discharged from rehab on December twenty seventh.  I'm going home for a week, see the Doctor for one final x-a and planning, at this point to return to Arizona on January 5.  My immediate family members are not, at all, happy with me as they are concerned.  Even the brother who, when I have, in the past, asked his advice has always replied, "Why are you asking me?  You'll do what you want, anyway"  Yes, even that brother is worried. Or would it be more appropriate for me to say that he is vocal with his concerns this time.  Truth be told, I think all of my siblings worry about me. As I do them, of course.

I have decided to address their concerns in hopes of alleviating their fears, and to be totally truthful, allay some of my own concerns in the process

Why am I going back?  After all, I'm sixty five, and I could retire.  The  short answer is that I want to go back.  Everyone thinks it's because of the money I'd make if I work another few years, and yes, that's a consideration.  But, it's not the only reason.  In the months that I have been in this facility , I have looked into people's faces, and I have gained a little insight into the aging process.  I've learned that, at some point, in each person's life, he or she makes a decision to disengage from this world and begins  to make the  exit.  There doesn't seem to be a particular age or physical condition a person has to be in for this condition ( decision?) to occur.  Each individual seems to come to this place on his own terms, in her  own time.  And here's the thing:  I'm not there, yet.  I may get there in a short  while, maybe a longer while.  But I'm not at that place, yet.

As I'm not ready to disengage, then I want to go back to work  I'm the first to acknowledge that I could use, probably, another month or so of physical therapy.  And, I do, in fact, have the time coming.  The thing is, the educational system in which I am employed works on the semester system.  If I don't go back at the beginning of the semester, I may as well take the rest of the semester off due to the work I'll miss.  So, I've made arrangements for accommodations so I can get back for the beginning of the semester. 

I know this is not going to be easy.  I know that I have to continue my therapy on my own, and I have to lose weight.  My problem, in both of these areas, is that when I get busy, I don't take care of myself.  I'll do what everyone else needs to be done, and put exercise and eating heathfully last. This must stop, or , as I have said, I'll end up in a sad shape.

I want everyone to know that I've thought this through and through and through.  Yes, I may not be able to pull this off.  I may decide that the whole idea was a mistake and turn the truck around and head home.  But, as the inmates in the prison used to say, " Scared money don't make money"  And if I don't try, it will always be something that I didn't do that I wanted to do.  And, on one of those viral posts, isn't that a big regret people have when they're old?  They don't regret what they did, but what they didn't do? 

So, here I go. Back to Arizona.  Oh, and by the way.....that scared money comment?  Don't put a lot of stock in that.  When one of them would say it, it was , usually, right before they did something shady which , invariably, landed them in the Hole or got them indicted.  

I love all of you and am so very grateful for the love and support all of you have given back to me

December 15, 2013

Well, I am scheduled for discharge on December 27, returning to work for second semester on a light duty basis.  I'm far from one hundred percent and will require some accommodations in order to work, but even so I have made the decision to return. I realize my age, truly I do, but I've been lucky enough to find work that I like among people I like with kids I love. I want to go back.

I want to take a minute to thank all the people in my life who have been so supportive during this tough period.My family has been so supportive.  From my kids who have visited, to my brothers who flew in for my birthday, my sister who calls every day without fail, I am blessed.  The other day, I felt, at once, guilt and pride.  As I was leaving the day room, one resident said to another, 'She's so lucky.  She has a nice family.  Someone comes to see her every single day.'

  I know people have some reservations about social media, but during the past months, I have been so grateful and have felt such support from people with their positive thumbs up and sweet comments.  These have made such an impact upon my recovery. From the 'kids' with whom I grew up ( as much as any of us did, in fact, grow up) from Turley and the north side of Tulsa, my beloved extended family of cousins and their families, the 'kids' who grew up with my kids and have , after becoming adults ,stayed on to become friend s of mine, all the friends I've made in my life's journey   to my 'new' friends that I have made on the rez, both Navajo and Filipeno, I have been so uplifted by your support.

Now, as I enter the second stage of this issue, I am preparing to ask for your help again. I have always been, as my Grandmother Britton used to say, 'a big girl'. Or as K.D. Lang sang, 'a big boned girl'.  For the record, I'm not big boned.  I'm fat.  Just saying  My weight has never been a problem for me because I was, also, a pretty healthy girl.  I walked, navigated , traveled.  In short, I lived the life I loved, doing the things I loved  to do. Over the past several years, however, this 'situation' has gotten out of control.  I , truly, did not realize what a problem my obesity had become until I was faced with a limb threatening injury and my recovery was so negatively impacted by my weight

In the past, when faced with problems, my response has been to shut up, suck it up, stick my chin and head in the air and move on.  If I reached out to anyone, it was to family and to a few friends, and I didn't like to do that. I guess, figuratively. I've been eating my feelings.  Along with a heck of a lot of egg foo yung and cheesecake. To need help, to ask for help was, always, to me, a sign of weakness.  I have learned, since July fourth weekend, when I cinderized  my ankle that this is not a constructive way to think.

I have got to lose weight, and now, with my leg on the mend, I am going to address this issue.  Not to do so is to, with a virtual certainty, guarantee myself  a life of limited mobility.  I'll probably end up in a wheelchair.  I will be limited in what I can do in terms of a job, and, in the near future, in retirement. How can I buy a camper to drive across the country if I am not fit enough to set up camp alone?  Riding a train through Thailand? Out of the question. I'd never fit in those seats.  Those are some tiny people.

Although I have enough exercise DVD s to get  a small village into shape , in order for them to work, they have to be utilized. Since being in rehab, I have been exercising daily, and my therapist says that has helped my recovery tremendously.  I plan to continue exercising as I return to my daily life.  I haven't settled on an eating plan, yet.  Siince I live alone and don't have to cook for anyone else, I'm considering one of the commercially available plans.  Besides, my Part B Medicare gives discounts on some of them  It, also, gives discounts on gym memberships, but since I'm returning to Arizona, and as there are no gyms closer than Gallup, I'm going to have to rely on DVD s.

I have decided that by involving my Facebook buddies in this endeavour, I stand a better chance of achieving success. I think it would help a lot in the same way it kept me focused these past months. .  I'll be posting, weekly, my progress, and since I will be among my co workers who are also facebook friends, I'll have to stay honest.  D.L. And Lorinda, in particular,  can be trusted to call me out .  Elaine and Andrew  are too polite to say anything, but they will be quick to pray for  me when I fail.  I will be grateful for both actions

Let's be honest. Weight loss, at my age, is gonna be tough, and I could fail. The research shows the odds ain't good.  Still, I have to try.  Here I go.  .

November 4, 2012

The thing is, policies that sound as though they should work, a lot of times, just don't. Giving big business tax cuts should translate into  jobs for the little people.  Sounds good, but it has not worked.  Big business takes the profits and sends the jobs overseas. Another example:  Privatizing services that have, traditionally, been publicly funded should provide better services for a lower price. So goes conventional wisdom. Sounds good.  Doesn't work.  If you want proof, check the performance statistics of privately run prisons, charter schools or for profit hospitals.  The only people who make out on any of those deals are the stock holders.

 How about this one?  People, according to urban legend, should 'pull themselves up by their own bootstraps, do it for themselves, and if things don't work out, well, it must have been something they did.  I can't help but notice that the biggest proponents of this philosophy were born into well-to-do families.  I'd be willing to bet a day's pay these people don't even clean their own bathrooms.  They darn sure didn't achieve their goals all on their own.  Another:  All babies should be planned, wanted and born into a family which has two committed, mature adults. Therefore, it's ok to curtail poor women's access to medical care, because this will force them to think twice before they get pregnant. Guess what?  Partners run off, and babies are conceived during rape.  This idea, to me, doesn't even sound as though it should work.  When people vocalize this one, I can barely restrain myself from saying, 'Duh'.

I grew up in a large, politically and religiously, diverse family. And, vocal. Really, really vocal.  Opinions were freely given, even if you didn't ask.  My 'authority figures' possessed opinions that were all over the spectrum, from slightly left of those held by Huey Long to just right of Barry Goldwater's platform. Additionally, I attended a high school with excellent teachers.  They encouraged us to read literature of all varieties.   I have read the works of Ayn Rand--in fact, I'm willing to bet I've read more of her books than Paul Ryan has.  I have read the speeches and writings of Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. Point being, I was exposed to all sorts of opinions. 

However, all of my family members, regardless of their political beliefs held certain core beliefs:

1. We were, under no circumstance, to make fun of those with special needs. This also went for calling 'normal people' --whatever that is-- by derogatory names such as 'retarded', 'tard', 'feeble minded'. God help you if you were heard saying such a thing.  The adult who heard you--regardless of whether he or she  believed Franklin Roosevelt was a savior or the anti-Christ,--would be in touch with your parents immediately.  Probably sooner.

2. We were not to blame people who were down on their luck.  Even if they had made a boatload  of poor choices, we were not to judge. The phrase I heard was, 'Don't kick a person when he's down.' We were taught to put out a hand, not point a finger.

3. We were not to behave in ways that were considered to be hypocritical .  State your opinion and back it up.  Being 'wishy -washy 'was just the worst thing. Behaving in such a way would get you laughed off  the back porch where my Grandmother's big dining table was placed. I did mention the vocal part, right?

4.  No matter what a person's religious beliefs were, we were not to be disrespectful of them. If they were not hurting anyone, it was not our business if they wanted to bay at the moon.  No discussion. 

And, that, when you get right down to it, is why I don't like this batch of Republicans.  They are not nice people. They are judgmental, hypocritical and wishy washy.  Recipients of government welfare,  sorry, 'tax breaks', they begrudge any sort of  tax relief or services to the rest of us. Recipients of government funded programs--legislative insurance, medicare, they, nevertheless, scream about 'socialism'.  Proponents of 'less government', they still  attempt to barge into our bedrooms, churches and doctors' offices in order to enforce their life view on the rest of us.  If one is known by the company one keeps, I guess I just don't want to be in their company.

And, oh yeah, this President's policies are working.  Just making note.

In closing, please vote. I already did.

September 11, 2012

In comparison to the agony of others, my 9/11 story sounds so small and inconsequential. However, it stays with me and, I guess it will forever.

 Once I'm awake and in 'going to work' mode, I get so preoccupied that I, seldom, take time to notice the day. That day, I remember.  As I drove up Germantown Avenue,  I rolled the window down and thought to myself that this was really just a gorgeous day.  I can't say I felt any sense of something about to happen, none of that. Just a small thought, then I let my mind go on to the day ahead and all of the things that needed to be done.

Around ten I had my prep hour, and I walked up towards the office.    One of the other teachers was walking out just as I got to the door, and she looked sort of strange.  I thought she was coming down with a flu bug or something, 'How's it going/"  She looked at me, looked through me, and said, 'Someone just attacked the World Trade Center'

You know, when things really get bad, I don't comprehend too well.  I just keep thinking that I must have misunderstood, that this can't be happening. And that's what happened then.  I did not comprehend the magnitude of what Bonnie had said. 'Attack'  and 'World Trade Center' did not belong in a sentence together.

After that, things get blurry.  We just walked through the next hour or so , following the normal routine.  Our principal came on the intercom.  She told us to take our kids to the lunch room and have them given their lunches:  a hot pack, a cold pack and a milk.  She was thinking, I'm sure, that heaven only knew when they might be getting another meal.  Then, the walkers were to be released, the bus kids escorted to the buses , and everyone  sent home. .  Once the students were safely out of the building, the teachers would be  dismissed. .

 None of us looked into each other's faces as we went through the motions, keeping our game faces on.  We knew that something awful had happened, something beyond comprehension. But, it wasn't the 'what had happened' that was scaring the wits out of me, it was the 'what's next?'  We didn't know who had done this. We did not know what else were they going to do.  By that time, we'd heard that the Pentagon was a target--I can't remember if it'd had been hit yet or not.  So, was Philly next?  And if Philly was next, were would they strike?  Would they blow up the 30th Street Station?  One of the bridges?  We were lining our kids up and putting them on buses with absolutely no idea what was coming.

That year, I was teaching low-incidence kids--the sped term for very low functioning students with many attendant health problems.  It can be heart breaking , gut wrenching work.   But here's the thing:  Children who have some of the most devastating disabilities can, also, be the  most loving, non-judgmental little beings on the planet.  Every morning, as they get off the bus, it's  big smiles and hugs all around.  At the end of the day, it's the same thing.  Their love is unconditional, absolute,  unequivocal.

That year, I had this one little boy who was just the epitome of that sort of attitude. Every morning, he would move his desk right up beside my desk.  If I put it back to where I thought it belonged, he'd wait a minute til I was busy and move it to where he thought it belonged.  In the end, I just gave up and left it there, right by my desk.  As we walked from the cafeteria , heading towards the buses, he took my hand and looked up and smiled at me.  I helped him put his lunch into his bright red book bag and pointed him towards the bus.  His arms went around my waist, and he said, 'I love you teacher.  See you tomorrow' ,turned and got onto the bus.

Would we see each other tomorrow?   Who knew? I turned around, went to my room , locked everything up, headed home and spent the next week in front of my television in my apartment.

See what I mean?  My story is so small.  Of course, the sun came up in Philadelphia.  A week later, we all went back to school.  I met  the bus, got  my morning hug, and the world began to spin again.  Still, when I think of that day, I get , as I said, the heeby jeebies all over again.

Then, I slap myself, give thanks for my blessings and send prayers to those who lost loved ones on that day.

I've used this picture before, but it is one of my favorites.  It reminds me of the men and women who have given their all for the rest of us.   

September 5, 2012

A  lot of my conservative friends have been saying, 'Oh yes, the unions did a lot of good in their day.   However, they've outlived their purpose.' Oh really?

When I was first married, my husband worked for the railroad.  He made a decent wage, he  had benefits, and he had a pension plan.  I worked for the school district.  I made  so-so money, but I , too, had a pension plan, and health benefits.  My birth control pills were covered, and when I did get pregnant, I got to stay in the hospital six days for a vaginal birth and ten days for a cesearean section. Later,  after my third child was born,  I didn't have to ask permission from anyone in order to obtain the a tubal ligation.   That was the nineteen seventies.  As the years have passed, I have watched as health care benefits have been decreased and those that are still available have been placed on 'employee contributed' status. Plus, aside  from having  less and less coverage, my insurance company has placed itself  in the middle of my personal, private business .  I am now forced  to have my life impacted by the religious beliefs of others.  

Other  changes in the working environment have been  made since then:   A full crew on a train locomotive went from  four men , to three, to two. I don't know how many they have on a crew now. , but a lot of people, at the time,  felt that the reduction in crew size endangered the lives of the remaining crews.   The railroad tracks in Pennsylvania between Youngstown and Buffalo were, with full union acquiesence, pulled up and the jobs of the men and women who worked those routes were lost.  Defined pension funds  have gone the way of the 1963 Corvair and have been replaced, when they were replaced at all,  with 401k plans. The data which is turning up lately, is showing that 401k plans  can be risky and the associated fees, paid by the employees, are high.  The give backs in the area of public education have been well-documented.

While union leaders , publicly, decried these changes ,  as far as I can see, they have done very little to stop the gutting of union members' contracts.   I believe that union leaders have become soft and afraid to make an active play to protect the rights of the people who pay their salaries. When one studies early labor history, incidents such as the Homestead Labor Strike of 1892 are a sharp contrast, indeed,  to the 'You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours' mentality that has become popular today.

I used to read the papers and think, 'Well, that's the last straw.  Someone is going to call for a strike vote for sure, now.  Then, nothing. Why?  Why  no strike vote?  Or for that matter, even a public , informational picket in which no work stoppage occurred? And, as long as I'm asking Why questions, here is another.  Why has there been no descernible movement  to organize un-represented areas:  hotel workers, food service personnel?  Could it be, possibly, that union leade are predominately White men, and new workers in these areas are overwhelmingly female and minority?  Just a thought that runs through my mind every now and again.

When I hear some knothead get on the television and praise management on Labor Day I do not even get angry. History has demonstrated that  management personnel will do whatever they are allowed to do:  protect management, exploit the workers and send the jobs to countries where children are paid pennies an hour and work hours and hours each day.   It's the union leaders who should be giving themselves a good long look in the mirror as this Labor Day 2012 draws to a close.


Unions have not outlived their purpose, far from it.  The workers in this country need, badly, a revitalized union moving.    What the working people in this country really need I think,  is a few more leaders of the ilk of Cesar Chavez.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/ezra-klein/wp/2012/09/04/was-the-decline-of-american-unions-inevitable-ask-canada/

As sometimes happens, as I was working on this post, I read this blog article which presents more insight into this issue of unions and their role.  I  found the Canadian approach to be fascinating.