2015 was not a good year for me. Although I have some wonderful memories of time spent with my children, stepchildren and all of the Grandchildren, the rest of my world fell apart.
I started the year out with the resolution that I was going to take care of myself. I wanted to exercise more, take better care of my health and to hopefully lose weight. I signed up for the Color Run for motivation so I could train for something.
My father was not doing well, he was in the hospital and had to have his leg amputated below the knee due to diabetes complications. I called him every day in the hospital and our conversations became sadder and hopeless. He was giving up. He didn't try to do the rehab and was giving up. He didn't want to eat, he didn't want to do anything. I would convince him to eat on the phone by telling him that as soon as he was able to get up into his wheelchair that I would come and get him. He didn't want to get "stuck" in the hospital. I told him to work hard and I would come down as soon as he could get into his wheelchair and feed himself. That would last a day or two and he would give up again. He would say to me "Say your goodbyes, Sis". He would tell me that he didn't want to live any more, not like this. He would say that he was ready and I should just say Goodbye and go on with my life and not to worry about him. I continued to call him and it got to the point that he wouldn't answer the phone and I would have to call the nurses desk and have them hand the phone to him when I called. He seemed so frail on the phone.
One day I was at the Children's Museum with 2 of my grandchildren and I received a phone call from Dad's Doctor. The Doctor said that Dad wasn't doing well. I knew that, but hearing it from the doctor made it seem way too real. I called my brother and began making arrangements to go down to Florida to see him. My brother doesn't do too well getting around as he has back and leg problems. He gets around with a scooter as walking is too difficult. After talking hto him twice, it became apparent that he didn't want to go. He worried about traveling without his scooter, even though I told him we could rent a wheelchair or scooter, he said he didn't know how he'd get from flight to flight, he worried that he wouldn't have enough money and then he said he didn't feel comfortable staying at Dad's house because he was never invited. (There has been a history of poor communication between my brothers and my father, but that is not going to be discussed in this forum, I feel it's up to him to come to grips with what his relationship was and what it meant meant to Dad and to him). Nevertheless, I began making plans to travel down to Florida by myself, making lists of what I was going to have to do when I got there. Dad's bills were over 2 months behind, so I thought I would have to either get him to sign some checks or get Power of Attorney to pay his bills so he didn't lose his house or insurance, etc.
I was looking up flight information when my husband asked me if I was sure that my brother wasn't going to go. I told him that I was sure he didn't want to go. So Mike told me that if I was sure my brother wasn't going, he would take a week off and take me down there as he didn't want me to try to face all of this myself.
So, we made requests for vacation and planned our trip with lists of things to accomplish. In the meantime, Dads doctor called me and said that Dad's leg would now need to be amputated above the knee as gangrene had set in. The doctor told me that Dad was very very weak and wasn't sure he would be able to make it through the surgery. He said the only other alternative would be hospice. I wasn't sure what to do. I told the doctor I would need to discuss this with my brother. I called my brother and he was clearly aggitated and upset. He said we shouldn't be making these decisions for Dad that Dad should be making his own decisions. I told him I wasn't sure if he could make the decision and that I would find out. So I called the doctor back and he said he would have Dad assessed to see if he was capable of making decisions on his own. He called me back later and said that he was NOT capable. All he would say is "Let me die". I told the doctor I would call my brother and we would make a decision. The doctor asked me if my brother was older or younger and I said older. He said then he would have to defer to him for the decision as the oldest sibling has the rights. I gave him my brothers phone number and I also called and left my brother a message that the doctor was going to call him for his decision. My brother did not answer his phone all day. The hospital finally called me back and said they needed a decision and they were deferring to me. I asked to speak to the doctor. The doctor called and said that we need to do something right away. I told him I didn't know what to say that I was leaving the next day to come down. He said he needed a decision now. I said to him "If this was YOUR father, what would you do?" He said to me very calmly "I would contact hospice". He said "Your father is at the end of his life's cycle, he is very weak, his kidney's have failed and the surgery will only extend his life a short time." He said, "Your father is ready," So I made the call to put him in hospice. I cried for a couple hours afterwards. I hated making that decision, but I knew that's what my Dad would want. I contacted the nurses on the hospice unit and asked them to put sports on the tv for him, and leave it on. I told them I would be there in 2 days as I was leaving the next day to drive down.
Mike and I left the morning of February 7th, and got to West Virginia when the hospital called and said my Dad has passed peacefully in his sleep. I was devastated. We stopped for gas and I cried through the store on the way to the bathroom. I didn't make it. I did not get to say my Goodbyes... I will forever live with that...
Our whole plan of action now changed. I couldn't think. I never wanted to make another decision on anything.
Well, I contacted my brother and although I never asked him to come, I made the mistake (in my poor state of mind) that he still would not be able to come down, as nothing changed physically for him.
I finally faced reality and decided that I needed to be an adult and take care of things. We got to the hospital and I said my Goodbyes to my Dad. I kissed him and told him that I was sorry I didn't make it in time.
Well, I did make all of the arrangements, I donated his clothes, his wheelchair, his glasses, his walker, his life alert, his bandages, etc. to the free clinic hoping that someone could use them. Dad wanted to be cremated and that was done. I removed all personal items from his home and to this day, it is still for sale. I brought my Dad home. That was the hardest week of my life. Everything I touched I would cry over. My Dad did not have the best of relationships with any of his children, but I was always his little girl. I am sad to say that my brother, has not handled any of this very well and has not spoken to me since. I tried to communicate, but found it to be fruitless. The longer the time goes on, the more he is hurting and withdrawing from family. I only wish he knew how much I missed him and how much I love him, and how sorry I am that he feels the way he does.
So, onward.. I started training for my Color Run.. I started feeling pretty good health wise. I went for my physical... It seems that my months of exercising and running and trying to take care of myself only resulted in my being diagnosed with high blood pressure. I sometimes feel like I can't win...
In February, my son had an accident at work which tore his rotator cuff. In May he had surgery and since he couldn't work, we brought him to live with us until he could finish rehabilitation. At first he could hardly do anything by himself, including buttoning his pants. Thankfully, Mama didn't have a problem helping him. He has since finished his rehabilitation and is back to work, however he still has a lot of pain and I doubt if it will ever be right.
I made an appointment for a dermotologist for a rash on my hand that just wouldn't go away. While I was there, the doctor said that he was more worried about a spot on my face than he was with my hands.. Well, I can say that I'm a survivor of my first and hopefully last case of Cancer. I now know what it feels like to have that hijacker take over your body. I wanted it gone immediately, but I had to wait for a special oncology plastic surgeon due to the location on my face. Waiting was horrible, I just wanted that creature gone... I also worried about having a horrible scar on my face. But I survived that with limited scarring.
I did go to the Color Run and finished. I did not run the whole route I had to walk alot and I was very disappointed in myself. Although it was fun, I was not happy about my performance. So, I've signed up for the Insane Inflatable for August 20th.
I plan to retire in 2016, so I was trying to take care of all of my special doctor appointment so i could get them in on my insurance as I'm switching to Mike's after I retire. So a few weeks ago, I went to the opthamalogist. I went to have my floaties checked as I do every year. This year, he sent me immediatly into surgery because i had a tear in my retina. When I got into the surgery (laser) they repaired 5 tears. Check up 2 weeks later and I had another tear. Ugh... Now I can't bend over or lift anything until my next check up.
So I still have many many things to be thankful for, like waking up every morning and having a very close loving family and 12 beautiful grandchildren, a good job, a few nice vacations and better health than some... this was not my best year.
I'm retiring in 22 days. I'm already starting to plan 2 different vacations. I'm thinking that 2016 might just be better than 2015. Although today is day 1 and I have a terrible chest cold and feel like crap... I am alive. I am loved. :)
Friday, January 1, 2016
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Religion
I haven't blogged in quite some time. I guess I haven't been moved to express anything lately, or life is just keeping me busy. I have a new rant... or a new reason to write... and that's Religion. Christianity. Differences?
What if I told you that I had a closer relationship with Jesus than anyone else in the world? How would that make you feel? How would you feel if I said "My relationship with Jesus, is the correct way!" Would it make you angry? Would it make you feel as if I am putting you down? Would it make you think that I think I am better than you???
What is a Christian? By definition it is an adjective " of, relating to, or derived from Jesus Christ or His teachings" as a noun it is "a person who believes in Jesus Christ".
I believe that Jesus Christ died on the cross for me. Oh, and for you too. I believe in God. I do believe that makes me a Christian. Why don't you believe me? I pray, I devote time to him. I study him. I study his writings. I ask question to others when they make remarks about Jesus so that I can learn.
I recently had someone say "Sue is a Christian, or at least she says she is"... Why would anyone doubt me? If someone tells me that they are a Christian, I believe them. I don't question that fact for a moment. I do ask questions about some of their beliefs related to Christianity, but for the purpose of broadening my understanding. There are many different belief's. Each person, each religion has their own. There are many interpretations of each Bible verse. What makes one right and one wrong?
Some people believe that they are "BETTER" Christians because they follow their church's rules like not wearing pants, or cutting their hair. Others are Bible Churches where one pastor gives his interpretation of each verse. What makes those right and others wrong?
Jesus has never spoken out loud to me. Does that make me a non-Christian? Does that mean that Jesus doesn't love me? Personally, I don't believe that. I do however, get a very warm comforting feeling when I meditate and ask Him to help me make a decision. It allows me to think through and when it feels right, that feeling comes over me and that's the direction I head. Is that Jesus talking to me? Or is that Jesus letting me use the God given skills that were given to me? I also turn to him when I am down and in need of comfort. Is that wrong?
I do not go to church. I will explain why even though it may bore you. I was baptized Lutheran. My Mother was Lutheran and my Father was Catholic. I was not allowed to be Catholic as the Catholic church didn't recognize my parents marriage because my father married outside of his religion, so I guess his children were not recognized as real either. That's sad to me, because I really think I wanted to be Catholic. So, the Lutherans would accept me. YAY! My parents didn't take me to church and I couldn't drive so I didn't go. A very nice lady down the road (Ruth) who always wanted a daughter babysat me one day and I told her that I didn't go to church, but would like to. So, she started taking me to her church which was Baptist. I went for quite some time, and when I got nervous about something, she would be there for me. I remember once it was my turn to say a prayer and I was afraid of what to say... she helped me write a prayer that I was comfortable with. I was very very confused though when it was time for my Sunday School classmates to be baptized. I was already baptized. Confusion set in. Would I be in trouble with God if I didn't get baptized? Would I be in trouble if I got baptized twice? I planned on asking Ruth for her thoughts but I never got the chance to. I loved her. She was kind. She took me to church and then home with her for dinner on Sundays. I played with her sons and then she would take me home. Unfortunately before I got the chance to ask her, she became ill and eventually died of cancer. I didn't go to church there any more. I didn't go to church much after that, only when a friend would ask me to go with them. I attended different churches and was amazed at the different rituals and atmospheres. My children, as they were born, were welcomed into the Lutheran church and were baptized there. I loved Reverend Dufford and every week he told a story in his sermon that I felt was directed right at me. My husband did not want to go to church, so I went myself with the kids. I took my children to Sunday School. My children started bringing home pictures of our family.and their pictures showed their Daddy burning up. They said he was burning because he didn't go to church. When I would be leaving church, people around me kept saying that I should bring my husband next time. I finally made a comment that he didn't want to come, and someone said to me "It's up to you to bring him with you". From that day on, I paid attention to how I was treated and I realized that I was actually being shunned. Then a new pastor came, and his sermons did not move me at all, they almost seemed anger based. I quit going and quit bringing my children. My children went to various churches when they wanted to. They have since grown and are attending the church of their choice. I tried to sign up for confirmation classes with the Lutheran church about 20 years ago. They said they would notify me when they were giving them again. I'm still waiting... I have received other communications from them regarding getting my picture taken, donating to various things, but after 20 years I gave up waiting to be notified of confirmation classes. I attended several local churches over the years and each one of them had a negative impact on me, one even "forgetting" that they promised my son and daughter in law that they could get married in the church. People whispering behind my back about my husband, or my family, people refusing to shake my hand, etc. Every time I step foot inside of a church, something happens that makes me angry. It's not supposed to be that way.
I have had various conversations with people about my decision to avoid attending a church. They say it's for the fellowship. Well, when you are feeling like people aren't welcoming you, there is no fellowship there.
I have also been made to feel that I am not a Christian because I will occasionally say a swear word, or post something unchristian-like on Facebook. I will say this: When I say a swear word, I am not saying the word literally, I say it as a slang. For instance, if I say shit, I do not mean poop. I mean darn it, shoot, crap, etc... it's just another word. I am around people who say these words all day and some of it rubs off. I never mean it literally, and I am sure that Jesus knows that. I know that he is not going to prevent me from being admitted to heaven due to swearing!! I don't judge anyone by the things they post on Facebook! Sometimes something is just plain funny even if it does contain a swear word. And there are days when I am stressed that words come out of my mouth worse than a truck driver. It has NOTHING to do with religion.
I do not believe that I have to walk into a building to have a relationship with God. I do not believe that I have to have "fellowship" to believe in Jesus. I do not put down people for not behaving like me or believing in my Jesus. I do not think that people are not "real" Christians if they have a difference of opinion with me concerning things going on in the world. When the time comes it will be Jesus judging me, not anyone else. As I said earlier, I pray, I spend devotional time, I talk to Jesus, I thank Him daily. I lead an honest life. I work hard, play hard and love hard.
I AM A CHRISTIAN!!!
Saturday, September 6, 2014
40th Class Reunion!
Last year I volunteered to make the arrangements for our 40th class reunion. I did it because I knew if someone didn't step up to the plate, that we weren't going to have a reunion. I didn't do it for recognition or for any other reason. I did it because someone had to. I moved out of town when I first graduated and only attended 1 of our reunions.
I'm thinking that as I grow up (I hate to refer to it as "older"), I have this desire to go back.. not back to the confusing world of teenagers, but back to where my memories are. Good and bad, I just want to be there again. I realize now that school and friends and groups, etc., are what I'm made up of. They are me. Every one of those memories are what created me.
I enjoyed making the plans, getting things together, bonding with my facebook friends over ideas, finding people, and generally planning the party. Every one of those people played an important part of my being. The bully made me stronger, the heartaches made me wiser, the teachers made me smarter, the cliques made me belong, the people gave me ideas. I look back and wished I would have spent more time getting to know them. They are important to me, why didn't I realize it 40 years ago?
The reunion was pretty much a success for those who attended. I wish everyone would have been there. I was glad. I was relieved. I was so afraid that I would throw a party and nobody would come. I was afraid that people would think that it was dumb.
I still feel that I didn't get to spend enough time with anyone there. I want everyone to know that they mattered to me. I am glad that we have all reconnected. I am glad people have said "let's get together again". I don't want it to just be words. I don't want to be the person who doesn't attend. I want to "stop by when I'm in town", I want to "let's have a picnic next summer", I want to "keep in touch".
It really was so nice to see everyone, even the people that I didn't have the time of day for, or the people who didn't have the time of day for me. We're all grown up now, we are all on equal playing fields.. it's nice. I care about you Class of 1974!!!
I'm thinking that as I grow up (I hate to refer to it as "older"), I have this desire to go back.. not back to the confusing world of teenagers, but back to where my memories are. Good and bad, I just want to be there again. I realize now that school and friends and groups, etc., are what I'm made up of. They are me. Every one of those memories are what created me.
I enjoyed making the plans, getting things together, bonding with my facebook friends over ideas, finding people, and generally planning the party. Every one of those people played an important part of my being. The bully made me stronger, the heartaches made me wiser, the teachers made me smarter, the cliques made me belong, the people gave me ideas. I look back and wished I would have spent more time getting to know them. They are important to me, why didn't I realize it 40 years ago?
The reunion was pretty much a success for those who attended. I wish everyone would have been there. I was glad. I was relieved. I was so afraid that I would throw a party and nobody would come. I was afraid that people would think that it was dumb.
I still feel that I didn't get to spend enough time with anyone there. I want everyone to know that they mattered to me. I am glad that we have all reconnected. I am glad people have said "let's get together again". I don't want it to just be words. I don't want to be the person who doesn't attend. I want to "stop by when I'm in town", I want to "let's have a picnic next summer", I want to "keep in touch".
It really was so nice to see everyone, even the people that I didn't have the time of day for, or the people who didn't have the time of day for me. We're all grown up now, we are all on equal playing fields.. it's nice. I care about you Class of 1974!!!
500 days!
On Monday it will be 500 days until I retire. I know that people are sick and tired of hearing me counting down and talking about how excited I am. There really are a number of reasons that I feel this way. For one, like many other people I know, I have been working some type of job since I was around 14 years old. That's over 40 years AT WORK! I feel like I have missed so much, so many things, so many memories because I was AT WORK. At work...some days it didn't seem like work, some days it felt like I was going to break because I worked so hard. I raised my kids, coached their team, lead their Girl Scouts, put millions of miles on my car, and attended college to get my Bachelors degree all while i was AT WORK! I'm still trying to spend as much time with my grandbabies, trying to get to their soccer games, baseball, karate, concerts, school plays, dance recitals but WORK keeps getting in the way. Secondly, I never really thought I would ever be able to retire. I seriously figured they would wheel me out dead in my chair. I never felt that I would be able to afford to retire, that I wouldn't make enough to make ends meet. When I first started working for the County, I didn't realize how important putting that money into my pension fund meant. Thirdly, when I started working there, I was pretty much the baby of the group, the youngster.. So now all of my close friends that I've worked with have now retired and I get to see how much they are enjoying their lives AT PLAY!
I want to be AT PLAY!
I am also now the "old lady" in my department. I am pretty much settled in my ways, and although I love my job, I'm wearing down. I am to the point that the things I want to learn have nothing to do with WORK, they have more to do with PLAY! I want to learn how to work my camera better, I want to learn how to decorate cakes and paint and create stained glass works of art. I don't want to learn about cloud storage, virtual environments, augmented reality, agile development methods or the best web platforms. I want to spend more minutes in my grandbabies lives. I want to spend more time with my children and my husband. We want to travel and see things and go on adventures together. When you are young, it seems like life just drags on, but when you get older, you realize how fast time has gone and how much time you have wasted and you want to get as much in as you can before you can't.. Or at least that's how I feel.
Both Mike and I used to get up in the morning and go to work and not really think about retirement too much. It's just that now that it's visible.. it's possible, and it's a reality.. We both look at work differently now. It's like you've been there so long and you've seen so much that you just kind know that it's time to go. Time to walk away from the bull crap, from the drama and from the work. We can afford to retire, we're not rich by any means, but we will survive. It's time to let the younger people have the opportunity now.
In 501 days I will wake up in the morning, I will get a cup of coffee, I will smile.. I won't have to be AT WORK ever again. I will finally be able to be AT PLAY. Where will I start? I know that first day will be a big shock to me. It will be hard to forget that habit. I already have started a bucket list but I think I will probably savor that first day, just absorb the realization that MY WORK is done, MY PLAY can start. I've paid my dues, my time as come.
The biggest issue is... how will I ever get through these next 500 days?????
I want to be AT PLAY!
I am also now the "old lady" in my department. I am pretty much settled in my ways, and although I love my job, I'm wearing down. I am to the point that the things I want to learn have nothing to do with WORK, they have more to do with PLAY! I want to learn how to work my camera better, I want to learn how to decorate cakes and paint and create stained glass works of art. I don't want to learn about cloud storage, virtual environments, augmented reality, agile development methods or the best web platforms. I want to spend more minutes in my grandbabies lives. I want to spend more time with my children and my husband. We want to travel and see things and go on adventures together. When you are young, it seems like life just drags on, but when you get older, you realize how fast time has gone and how much time you have wasted and you want to get as much in as you can before you can't.. Or at least that's how I feel.
Both Mike and I used to get up in the morning and go to work and not really think about retirement too much. It's just that now that it's visible.. it's possible, and it's a reality.. We both look at work differently now. It's like you've been there so long and you've seen so much that you just kind know that it's time to go. Time to walk away from the bull crap, from the drama and from the work. We can afford to retire, we're not rich by any means, but we will survive. It's time to let the younger people have the opportunity now.
In 501 days I will wake up in the morning, I will get a cup of coffee, I will smile.. I won't have to be AT WORK ever again. I will finally be able to be AT PLAY. Where will I start? I know that first day will be a big shock to me. It will be hard to forget that habit. I already have started a bucket list but I think I will probably savor that first day, just absorb the realization that MY WORK is done, MY PLAY can start. I've paid my dues, my time as come.
The biggest issue is... how will I ever get through these next 500 days?????
People In My Life
It's amazing how many people come in and out of your life. I spent some time recently trying to locate a couple of people who were at one time a big part of my life. This made me think even deeper of friends lost... not due to an argument or falling out, but just due to lack of keeping in touch. When I was in elementary school, my friends were Debbie Rudenski, Laura Locke and Kim Colletta. Laura and I have reconnected through Facebook. Debbie works at GE and my husband sees her occasionally, and the usual pleasantries are mentioned, but we still haven't reconnected. I have recently found someone who is related to, or knows someone who married one of Kim's relatives.. and they gave me her phone number, which I can't locate. So, now I have to figure that puzzle out again, then get up the courage to just make the call and say "Hi, remember me?".. I remember that Debbie and Kim and I were the "bickering threesome" usually. It was always two against one and how MEAN we were to each other! The two would switch off and one of us was always on the wrong side. It wasn't fun when I was the one and the two of them were against me! Hurtful children! I sure hope today that we could all three get along without the backstabbing!
When I was in 5th grade, my Dad's job was transferred to Muncy, Pennsylvania for one year. The joke was that my mom had to serve a year in Muncy Womens prison, but that was just a joke. She did though, work in a bra factory in Muncy, which was new to all of us as our mother never worked outside of the house prior to or after that. In Muncy, I met a girl named Nancy Wall and we were inseparable for that whole year. We played school with stuffed animals and we were the teachers and all of the animals were our students. We made up tests and homework papers and played for hours doing this. I think it's odd that neither of us became teachers. I maintained contact with Nancy all through high school and we would visit each other in the summers, either I would go there, or she would come up to Erie. After I got married and had my first child, I lost contact with Nancy. Life consumed most of my time and she disappeared for awhile.
I remember thinking about Nancy alot and several times tried to write a letter to her last address, but it was returned. I think we lost contact for maybe 6 or 7 years. But one day I decided to call her mom's phone number to see if was still in service and see if her mom could give me an address. Lo and behold the phone rang and Nancy answered! She was at her mom's recovering from the birth of her twins. So, in the time that we missed, I had 4 children (one set of twins) and she had 5 children (one set of twins) amazing! Nancy and I still keep in contact with each other and I have seen her twice since we started our families, but thankfully for Facebook, we follow along each other's lives. Still wondering why neither of us became a teacher.
Recently my class had it's 40th reunion. That will be a post n itself, but I feel the need to mention it as there were alot of people there that came in and out of my life at one time or another.
Facebook has been an excellent catalyst for finding old friends. I found one of my best friends from when I lived in California on Facebook. Pam Purcell lived in the apartment complex that I lived in and we had children the same age. Her son Michael and my son James played together. They both had Star Wars action figures that they would play with. Her son Matthew once "ran away from home" and came to my house... He was my buddy. Finding Pam again brought back a flood of memories and seeing pictures of Michael and Matt all grown up with kids of their own, brought tears to my eyes..
I also found my next door neighbor when I lived in Harborcreek. Bonnie and I became very good friends, best friends and after about 20some years, we recently had lunch and talked for a few hours.. we could have talked for 3 weeks I think. We have vowed to keep in contact and so far we are burning up the smart phones texting each other.
I just find it interesting how relationships have gone full circle. I lost myself when my children were growing up because they became the most imortant thing and the focus of my life. Then when they are all grown and gone, I started to miss all of those people I left behind. I'm very thankful that the ones I have found did not hold it against me. We picked up where we left off but a little more reserved. But I'm still so glad to have them in my life again!
When I was in 5th grade, my Dad's job was transferred to Muncy, Pennsylvania for one year. The joke was that my mom had to serve a year in Muncy Womens prison, but that was just a joke. She did though, work in a bra factory in Muncy, which was new to all of us as our mother never worked outside of the house prior to or after that. In Muncy, I met a girl named Nancy Wall and we were inseparable for that whole year. We played school with stuffed animals and we were the teachers and all of the animals were our students. We made up tests and homework papers and played for hours doing this. I think it's odd that neither of us became teachers. I maintained contact with Nancy all through high school and we would visit each other in the summers, either I would go there, or she would come up to Erie. After I got married and had my first child, I lost contact with Nancy. Life consumed most of my time and she disappeared for awhile.
I remember thinking about Nancy alot and several times tried to write a letter to her last address, but it was returned. I think we lost contact for maybe 6 or 7 years. But one day I decided to call her mom's phone number to see if was still in service and see if her mom could give me an address. Lo and behold the phone rang and Nancy answered! She was at her mom's recovering from the birth of her twins. So, in the time that we missed, I had 4 children (one set of twins) and she had 5 children (one set of twins) amazing! Nancy and I still keep in contact with each other and I have seen her twice since we started our families, but thankfully for Facebook, we follow along each other's lives. Still wondering why neither of us became a teacher.
Recently my class had it's 40th reunion. That will be a post n itself, but I feel the need to mention it as there were alot of people there that came in and out of my life at one time or another.
Facebook has been an excellent catalyst for finding old friends. I found one of my best friends from when I lived in California on Facebook. Pam Purcell lived in the apartment complex that I lived in and we had children the same age. Her son Michael and my son James played together. They both had Star Wars action figures that they would play with. Her son Matthew once "ran away from home" and came to my house... He was my buddy. Finding Pam again brought back a flood of memories and seeing pictures of Michael and Matt all grown up with kids of their own, brought tears to my eyes..
I also found my next door neighbor when I lived in Harborcreek. Bonnie and I became very good friends, best friends and after about 20some years, we recently had lunch and talked for a few hours.. we could have talked for 3 weeks I think. We have vowed to keep in contact and so far we are burning up the smart phones texting each other.
I just find it interesting how relationships have gone full circle. I lost myself when my children were growing up because they became the most imortant thing and the focus of my life. Then when they are all grown and gone, I started to miss all of those people I left behind. I'm very thankful that the ones I have found did not hold it against me. We picked up where we left off but a little more reserved. But I'm still so glad to have them in my life again!
Saturday, February 16, 2013
My Brother Bob
Where do I start? Awhile back I wrote something about my youngest brother playing Barbies with me. My brother Bob commented that he wished he would have spent more time on things that were fun for me. He truly is clueless. Yes, we played some board games. One was I think called "Dream Date" or something like that... but that doesn't really scratch the surface of my memories of him. Maybe he doesn't really remember that he was the one that would tell my other two brothers "It's okay, let her come along" or "Don't make her cry". Oh, he got his shots in on teasing too, but when it came to sticking up for me, he's the only one I remember doing that. Maybe he doesn't remember playing cards with Grandma Lucas for hours and hours every weekend, Canasta I think was the name of the game.
My more vivid memories though, were later in our years. I remember being afraid to go to a school dance because I didn't know how to dance. Bob and I danced in the bedroom quite a few times, lessons in non-klutziness... He has no idea how thankful I was for that... He also taught me how to smoke... Gave me my first puff and then told me that I must have already been smoking because I didn't cough. I think I was destined to fight that ugly habit most of my life, because I actually enjoyed it from the very first puff. So, I don't know whether I should be thankful that he did this, or curse him for it. Thankfully, both of us have kicked it for good. Both of us around the same time too. Karma?
I remember coming home from the prom.. having an anxiety attack from taking too many No Doz. Who do I run to? Bob. What does he tell me? You need to eat meat. Raw meat. Bologna will work. So what do I do? I eat about 1/2 pound of Oscar Meyer Bologna, and I still freak out. More meat he says. More Bologna. I think about it now and I realize that it wasn't really the bologna that made me feel better, it was the perception that it would help, and it did. Thank you Bob.
I remember coming home one night from a 4-H play practice to find nobody home and note from my mom that said "Be right back". Was kind of odd as my mom rarely went anywhere. Even more odd was that it was around dinner time and my dad wasn't home, and there was no dinner even started. Odd. Then the phone call came. Someone... to this day I don't know who... called and scared the daylights out of me. They asked if my parents were home and then proceeded to tell me that my brother was in a motorcycle accident. Said that he lost an eye. Said that he was busted up really bad. Said he broke his legs, his arms, his back. Said he had head injuries and wasn't sure he if he was going to live or not. They took him to Hamot Hospital by ambulance. I remember screaming for help. I remember my brain racing and my eyes crying. Where were my parents? My mom didn't come "right back". How could I tell them? There were no cell phones.. I was stuck in the country with no way to get anywhere, nobody to call, no way to know if my brother was ok. I tried calling my other brother, no answer. I sat in the middle of the dining room on the floor crying and screaming for help. It took almost an hour when my mom finally called home and told me that she was at the hospital. I didn't get to go to the hospital until the next day. I was angry at everyone because I wanted to go. I needed to be with my brother. I thought about riding my bike but i didn't know how to get there. I was young enough that I didn't have any friends that drove yet. I was stuck. I was angry. I got to go the next day. He didn't lose an eye but it was all bruised and scraped. He didn't break his back, but he was busted up pretty bad. I went to the hospital every single day after that. Nine months of it. I would bring him dumb toys to play with. I would watch TV with him. I sat with him while we listed to the man in the same room with him breathe his last breath. There was an eerie silence about that.
Bob got to come home for Christmas! I was so excited. He had a hospital bed in our downstairs den and a TV. I would rush home from school to play cards or just sit with him and watch TV I remember one day dragging a recliner chair all the way downstairs and into the den because we got this crazy idea that we could tilt him up in that chair and he could play cards easier. I nearly broke my back getting that chair in there. Then we finally got him in the chair and his body cast cracked.. Yikes! I was so scared that it would hurt him! But wow, he could really sit up a little. That body cast was not easy to get around in! ha ha I remember somehow (the details are not real clear) but I think he had just regular casts on his legs, or maybe just one leg, but he couldn't wear a regular pair of jeans. So I got one of those rivet kits and took a pair of jeans and sliced up the sides and laced them up so he could wear them. We went to a school dance and it was the first time a lot of people had seen him since his accident. I was so proud of him. He had a long recovery and it was not easy for him. Friends come to visit you the first few weeks, but after awhile they quit coming. I didn't quit. For some stupid reason, I felt like I had to be there. I thought he needed me. I'm not sure if he thought that or not, but I wasn't going to miss a day.
Bob was the person that I would go to when I didn't know what to do, or if I had boy troubles or was mad at the parents. He was my blood, my hero, my rock. He doesn't know how important he was to me. He will probably never know how much.
Bob once ran away with the circus. He took care of the Jaguar that was in the commercials. (If I remember that correctly). He hitchhiked to Florida. He DID things that I would have been way to scared to do. Most of the time, I was the only one who knew where he was. I don't know why that was... Maybe nobody else cared to ask? I needed to know where he was. Maybe he knew that. I still have a post card he sent me from one of his adventures. How I envied him. When we were older, and both married, we lived in the same apartment complex and when times were bad, we helped each other out, shared food when necessary.
There are times when I miss him terribly. We live on separate sides of the country, but I know he's closer to me than most people. I don't always agree with him, sometimes I truly don't understand him, but that's okay. He understands me. He understands my relationship with my parents. He gets it. He's always on my side. There are times when I feel like it's really just him and I. Blood. Love.
My more vivid memories though, were later in our years. I remember being afraid to go to a school dance because I didn't know how to dance. Bob and I danced in the bedroom quite a few times, lessons in non-klutziness... He has no idea how thankful I was for that... He also taught me how to smoke... Gave me my first puff and then told me that I must have already been smoking because I didn't cough. I think I was destined to fight that ugly habit most of my life, because I actually enjoyed it from the very first puff. So, I don't know whether I should be thankful that he did this, or curse him for it. Thankfully, both of us have kicked it for good. Both of us around the same time too. Karma?
I remember coming home from the prom.. having an anxiety attack from taking too many No Doz. Who do I run to? Bob. What does he tell me? You need to eat meat. Raw meat. Bologna will work. So what do I do? I eat about 1/2 pound of Oscar Meyer Bologna, and I still freak out. More meat he says. More Bologna. I think about it now and I realize that it wasn't really the bologna that made me feel better, it was the perception that it would help, and it did. Thank you Bob.
I remember coming home one night from a 4-H play practice to find nobody home and note from my mom that said "Be right back". Was kind of odd as my mom rarely went anywhere. Even more odd was that it was around dinner time and my dad wasn't home, and there was no dinner even started. Odd. Then the phone call came. Someone... to this day I don't know who... called and scared the daylights out of me. They asked if my parents were home and then proceeded to tell me that my brother was in a motorcycle accident. Said that he lost an eye. Said that he was busted up really bad. Said he broke his legs, his arms, his back. Said he had head injuries and wasn't sure he if he was going to live or not. They took him to Hamot Hospital by ambulance. I remember screaming for help. I remember my brain racing and my eyes crying. Where were my parents? My mom didn't come "right back". How could I tell them? There were no cell phones.. I was stuck in the country with no way to get anywhere, nobody to call, no way to know if my brother was ok. I tried calling my other brother, no answer. I sat in the middle of the dining room on the floor crying and screaming for help. It took almost an hour when my mom finally called home and told me that she was at the hospital. I didn't get to go to the hospital until the next day. I was angry at everyone because I wanted to go. I needed to be with my brother. I thought about riding my bike but i didn't know how to get there. I was young enough that I didn't have any friends that drove yet. I was stuck. I was angry. I got to go the next day. He didn't lose an eye but it was all bruised and scraped. He didn't break his back, but he was busted up pretty bad. I went to the hospital every single day after that. Nine months of it. I would bring him dumb toys to play with. I would watch TV with him. I sat with him while we listed to the man in the same room with him breathe his last breath. There was an eerie silence about that.
Bob got to come home for Christmas! I was so excited. He had a hospital bed in our downstairs den and a TV. I would rush home from school to play cards or just sit with him and watch TV I remember one day dragging a recliner chair all the way downstairs and into the den because we got this crazy idea that we could tilt him up in that chair and he could play cards easier. I nearly broke my back getting that chair in there. Then we finally got him in the chair and his body cast cracked.. Yikes! I was so scared that it would hurt him! But wow, he could really sit up a little. That body cast was not easy to get around in! ha ha I remember somehow (the details are not real clear) but I think he had just regular casts on his legs, or maybe just one leg, but he couldn't wear a regular pair of jeans. So I got one of those rivet kits and took a pair of jeans and sliced up the sides and laced them up so he could wear them. We went to a school dance and it was the first time a lot of people had seen him since his accident. I was so proud of him. He had a long recovery and it was not easy for him. Friends come to visit you the first few weeks, but after awhile they quit coming. I didn't quit. For some stupid reason, I felt like I had to be there. I thought he needed me. I'm not sure if he thought that or not, but I wasn't going to miss a day.
Bob was the person that I would go to when I didn't know what to do, or if I had boy troubles or was mad at the parents. He was my blood, my hero, my rock. He doesn't know how important he was to me. He will probably never know how much.
Bob once ran away with the circus. He took care of the Jaguar that was in the commercials. (If I remember that correctly). He hitchhiked to Florida. He DID things that I would have been way to scared to do. Most of the time, I was the only one who knew where he was. I don't know why that was... Maybe nobody else cared to ask? I needed to know where he was. Maybe he knew that. I still have a post card he sent me from one of his adventures. How I envied him. When we were older, and both married, we lived in the same apartment complex and when times were bad, we helped each other out, shared food when necessary.
There are times when I miss him terribly. We live on separate sides of the country, but I know he's closer to me than most people. I don't always agree with him, sometimes I truly don't understand him, but that's okay. He understands me. He understands my relationship with my parents. He gets it. He's always on my side. There are times when I feel like it's really just him and I. Blood. Love.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Brother!(s) 2
I had 3 brothers. I have 1 brother. There are good things about having 3 older brothers growing up, and bad things... They constantly teased me. They always protected me. Well, sometimes they were bad influences too.
I can't remember for sure which brother it was, but I think it was Kenny who saved me from a murderer. Of course, we didn't know he was a murderer at the time, but he was. There was a boy at school named Bruce who had a terrible crush on me. He would write love notes to me, and sometimes stuff them in the crack of my locker. He was creepy, and frightened me. My brother threatened to beat up Bruce if he came near me again. After the warning, my brother caught him again trying to leave a note in my locker. He slammed Bruce against the locker just as I came around the corner. I knew it was not good.. not good at all. That happened several times and Bruce finally moved on.. Bruce is now on death row in Alabama. Enough said.
Kenny was always the favorite with my Mom. "He almost died at birth", she always said. "He only weighed 2 pounds, born at home", she said. "Had to put him in a shoe box in the oven to keep him warm, he was like a baby bird", she always said. He was a spoiled brat. She knew it too. He caused trouble, lied, cheated and was downright evil most of the time. Yet, I still loved him. We all did. He could sing like an angel, but wouldn't do it in front of anyone. I used to stand outside of his bedroom door and listen to him. He would sing "Michelle" by the Beatles and he sounded just like Paul McCartney.
Kenny never got blamed for anything, and most of the time he was the guilty party. One particular incident is forever etched in my mind. I walked through the door from our family room into the living room and Kenny was hiding at the side of the door. As I walked through he wailed me in the arm with his fist, instantly sending me to the floor screaming "Mommmmmmm!!!" And I looked up at Kenny and he had lifted up his sleeve and was punching himself in the arm, making it red. Mom came in the room and Kenny said "She hit me first! Look at my arm"! I said "He hit himself and made it red". Mom called me a liar and sent me to my room. Who in their right mind would hit himself in the arm to make it red. Brothers!
My best memory of Kenny though, was of his first girlfriend, Mary. I instantly liked Mary and saw her as the sister I always wanted. They married, had Kelly, my niece (another story, another day). Eventually they did divorce, but I kept Mary as my sister. She is still my sister and always will be. (another story)
Kenny lived life to it's fullest. He was an electrician and always seemed to land the big jobs and make the big bucks. He liked living large. He would send a limo to pick up a girl and bring her to his house and order food delivered from the swankiest restaurants in town, bought the best champagne and the best of anything he could find! All the money in the world couldn't buy him happiness though. He tried though. He died trying. I miss him.
Frank was the oldest. I have bits and snips of memories of him I do remember him having a "garage band", and they would practice at our house. I can't remember who was in that band with him though, I'm hoping to find out though. I remember he would sing Gene Pitney and I would laugh because, although he sounded like Gene Pitney, it was not anything like Frank sounded normally, so it was like he was singing with someone else's voice. I remember him driving my mom's 55 Buick at 90 miles an hour down New Road once, and I thought I was soooo cool riding fast with him! What a privilege it was! I was too naive to realize that we both could have died that day! Frank wrestled in high school and my mom and dad made me go to all of his matches. I really didn't mind though, Frank had some really cool friends and I had a crush on most of them!
I didn't really have a relationship with Frank, until he was older and moved back home from Florida. He came back to help my mom with her kennel business, but he no sooner got up here and developed health issues of his own. He had heart by-pass surgery, issues from diabetes, poor circulation and even had a small stroke. I visited him often, in the hospital and at his little house next door to my mom. We would talk for hours about the things we had done through the years while we were apart. It was like meeting someone new everytime we got together, learning things we never would have guessed. He had lived a hard life after his divorce and move to Florida. He came back very bitter, suspicious of everyone (he had some break ins and burglaries when he was there). He had some wonderful fun stories and some very sad ones. He hated women saying they were all whores, yet had several women that would do anything for him. I would call him on that every time he tried to say that. I would tell him that if ALL women were whores, than he is calling me a whore. He would say that sisters don't count. He was a really good cook and loved to watch the cooking shows on tv. He would call me every month or so to fix his computer. He would get frustrated and say that he needed to learn how it worked so he could fix it himself. I would tell him not to learn too much, that I liked it that he needed me for something!
Frank smoked cigarettes all of his adult life. He refused to even consider quitting. He would say "something's going to kill me, someday" and even when he was on oxygen, he would smoke. Sometimes he would catch his nose on fire briefly from smoking with the oxygen on. One day he took the oxygen off his nose, placed the tubing on the floor and was smoking. He fell asleep, dropped the cigarette onto the floor next to the oxygen and caught the rug on fire. He thought it was funny, and I loved him for it. He was determined to do what he wanted or didn't want to do. He didn't care if it did kill him. He felt as if he had lived his life the way he wanted and didn't really have anything more left that he wanted to do. He was my big brother and I looked up to him and loved the fact that he did what he wanted, didn't try to please anyone, just himself. I wished that I could be more like that, but I just had too many people that counted on me and I wanted to please them. Frank liked driving down to a local creek and would feed the fish bread. He told me that was his "happy place". He felt peace there. He passed away suddenly, sitting at the table, eating his breakfast. The coroner said he probably didn't feel anything, that his heart just stopped. He was done. He was cremated and I set him free in his "happy place" for eternity. I miss him.
I had 3 brothers. I have one brother. Bob. He deserves his very own page and I will tell you about him next.
I can't remember for sure which brother it was, but I think it was Kenny who saved me from a murderer. Of course, we didn't know he was a murderer at the time, but he was. There was a boy at school named Bruce who had a terrible crush on me. He would write love notes to me, and sometimes stuff them in the crack of my locker. He was creepy, and frightened me. My brother threatened to beat up Bruce if he came near me again. After the warning, my brother caught him again trying to leave a note in my locker. He slammed Bruce against the locker just as I came around the corner. I knew it was not good.. not good at all. That happened several times and Bruce finally moved on.. Bruce is now on death row in Alabama. Enough said.
Kenny was always the favorite with my Mom. "He almost died at birth", she always said. "He only weighed 2 pounds, born at home", she said. "Had to put him in a shoe box in the oven to keep him warm, he was like a baby bird", she always said. He was a spoiled brat. She knew it too. He caused trouble, lied, cheated and was downright evil most of the time. Yet, I still loved him. We all did. He could sing like an angel, but wouldn't do it in front of anyone. I used to stand outside of his bedroom door and listen to him. He would sing "Michelle" by the Beatles and he sounded just like Paul McCartney.
Kenny never got blamed for anything, and most of the time he was the guilty party. One particular incident is forever etched in my mind. I walked through the door from our family room into the living room and Kenny was hiding at the side of the door. As I walked through he wailed me in the arm with his fist, instantly sending me to the floor screaming "Mommmmmmm!!!" And I looked up at Kenny and he had lifted up his sleeve and was punching himself in the arm, making it red. Mom came in the room and Kenny said "She hit me first! Look at my arm"! I said "He hit himself and made it red". Mom called me a liar and sent me to my room. Who in their right mind would hit himself in the arm to make it red. Brothers!
My best memory of Kenny though, was of his first girlfriend, Mary. I instantly liked Mary and saw her as the sister I always wanted. They married, had Kelly, my niece (another story, another day). Eventually they did divorce, but I kept Mary as my sister. She is still my sister and always will be. (another story)
Kenny lived life to it's fullest. He was an electrician and always seemed to land the big jobs and make the big bucks. He liked living large. He would send a limo to pick up a girl and bring her to his house and order food delivered from the swankiest restaurants in town, bought the best champagne and the best of anything he could find! All the money in the world couldn't buy him happiness though. He tried though. He died trying. I miss him.
Frank was the oldest. I have bits and snips of memories of him I do remember him having a "garage band", and they would practice at our house. I can't remember who was in that band with him though, I'm hoping to find out though. I remember he would sing Gene Pitney and I would laugh because, although he sounded like Gene Pitney, it was not anything like Frank sounded normally, so it was like he was singing with someone else's voice. I remember him driving my mom's 55 Buick at 90 miles an hour down New Road once, and I thought I was soooo cool riding fast with him! What a privilege it was! I was too naive to realize that we both could have died that day! Frank wrestled in high school and my mom and dad made me go to all of his matches. I really didn't mind though, Frank had some really cool friends and I had a crush on most of them!
I didn't really have a relationship with Frank, until he was older and moved back home from Florida. He came back to help my mom with her kennel business, but he no sooner got up here and developed health issues of his own. He had heart by-pass surgery, issues from diabetes, poor circulation and even had a small stroke. I visited him often, in the hospital and at his little house next door to my mom. We would talk for hours about the things we had done through the years while we were apart. It was like meeting someone new everytime we got together, learning things we never would have guessed. He had lived a hard life after his divorce and move to Florida. He came back very bitter, suspicious of everyone (he had some break ins and burglaries when he was there). He had some wonderful fun stories and some very sad ones. He hated women saying they were all whores, yet had several women that would do anything for him. I would call him on that every time he tried to say that. I would tell him that if ALL women were whores, than he is calling me a whore. He would say that sisters don't count. He was a really good cook and loved to watch the cooking shows on tv. He would call me every month or so to fix his computer. He would get frustrated and say that he needed to learn how it worked so he could fix it himself. I would tell him not to learn too much, that I liked it that he needed me for something!
Frank smoked cigarettes all of his adult life. He refused to even consider quitting. He would say "something's going to kill me, someday" and even when he was on oxygen, he would smoke. Sometimes he would catch his nose on fire briefly from smoking with the oxygen on. One day he took the oxygen off his nose, placed the tubing on the floor and was smoking. He fell asleep, dropped the cigarette onto the floor next to the oxygen and caught the rug on fire. He thought it was funny, and I loved him for it. He was determined to do what he wanted or didn't want to do. He didn't care if it did kill him. He felt as if he had lived his life the way he wanted and didn't really have anything more left that he wanted to do. He was my big brother and I looked up to him and loved the fact that he did what he wanted, didn't try to please anyone, just himself. I wished that I could be more like that, but I just had too many people that counted on me and I wanted to please them. Frank liked driving down to a local creek and would feed the fish bread. He told me that was his "happy place". He felt peace there. He passed away suddenly, sitting at the table, eating his breakfast. The coroner said he probably didn't feel anything, that his heart just stopped. He was done. He was cremated and I set him free in his "happy place" for eternity. I miss him.
I had 3 brothers. I have one brother. Bob. He deserves his very own page and I will tell you about him next.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)