I admit it, I can't catch a fish to save my life. Not that I haven't tried - it's just that I never could quite get the hang of it. There must be some sort of finesse and talent to be able to do it that I just don't possess. My brothers both know how to fish, my dad fished, even my mom was known to throw in a hook or two. Then there was me.
I remember as a youngster, my dad would patiently put the worm on a hook for me because I wasn't about to touch one of those squirmy things. I didn't mind digging in the dirt for them and putting them in a cup, but after that, they were on their own. He'd stand there proudly, handing over the the rod, only to watch me drop the line into the water and lose the worm and the hook within seconds of it breaking the surface. We'd spend hours out on the boat on the weekends my father had us and my brothers and he would catch fish left and right. Nope, not me. On those rare occasions that I didn't lose the hook at the get go, I'd catch a big patch of seaweed or some piece of trash that made its way into the lake. Otherwise, I'd just stick my nose in a book and relish the sun baking down on my neck.
Back on the homefront, during the summers, my younger brother and I would take our fishing poles and head over to Axehead Lake near our home. Since I still wouldn't touch worms, we used Velveeta cheese as bait and believe it or not, once in a while, Kenny would come up with a fish. Talk about dumb luck. I'd be standing inches from him and catch nada, zilch, zippo, nothing. But it didn't really matter because we'd just throw them back and enjoy the peacefulness of the scenery anyway.
As I got older and had a son (whose pet name ironically was "fish"), I wanted him to experience the tranquility of spending time by the water immersed in the calmness and peacefulness of the sport. Even though I still had never caught a fish, I was determined to not let that stand in the way of trying to teach my son. I finally got over my affinity to not touch worms (its' amazing what we'll do for our kids) and decided that by a quiet river in Wisconsin we'd set out on our virgin fishing voyage on the banks of a small river.
I meticulously baited the hook as I had watched those far more experienced than I do countless times. Danny watched but really wasn't interested in having any part of that. He didn't mind playing in the dirt looking for worms, it's just that he wasn't too keen on spearing them with a hook. Hmmm, guess that nut didn't fall far from the tree. Finally with hook baited and lure tied to the line, my son wisely standing behind a tree to watch - a very large oak tree, I drew the rod back and went to cast the line into the water. All seemed to be going picture perfectly until, for some reason, the line kicked back at me and the hook managed to imbed itself right into my armpit. Dang that hurt. Somewhere down the bank, my yelp was heard and help was on its way.
Between fits of laughter and feigned concern, Oliver and Danny came to my rescue and pulled the blasted little thing out of my armpit, leaving not one, but two holes in its place. Neither of them ever teased me again about keeping a roll of toilet paper in the glove compartment of the car. It sure came in handy that day. Needless to say, fishing lesson number one was over for the day. As a matter of fact, we never did try that again and Danny never did show any interest in learning as he was growing up. Sigh. Oh well, at least I tried. Guess I took that whole "be ye fishers of men" part of the Bible a little too literally.
So here I am living near the Tennessee river, surrounded by fishing people of all sorts. Menfolk, womenfolk, little tot-like folk. They talk lures in a language that I am yet to understand and about fish that I have no idea what they look like. I still love the water and everything else that goes with fishing - except the fishing part. For some reason I just can't bring myself to take it up again. Perhaps one day, but for now I have a small scar in my armpit that reminds me of my limitations and skill when it comes to doing it.
Bless the hearts of the fisher-people everywhere who do it for sport and for a living. Your secret spots are safe from me and if you do by some chance see me coming up on you - fear not, I won'd be casting any lines or going after your fish. I'm 54 years old and the biggest thing I've ever caught fishing was myself - and that's not one of those stories that I want to brag about how big it was, because after all, it would be my own butt I'd be talking about.
It's almost that time of year where I'll be grabbing a book and heading down by the river - to read, to daydream, to watch, to learn, and to stay far away from hooks that can bite me. In the meantime, if you hear me say "go fish", you can bet that it'll be because I'm playing a childhood card game or cheering my son on at a ballgame. Happy spring everyone.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Friday, April 9, 2010
Unexpected Tears
Yesterday Oliver had an appointment at the VA in Memphis and I had been seeing some ads on tv about places buying gold. I decided it would be a good time to gather up all the loose stuff like single earrings, bracelets no longer worn, etc. and see if I could get a few bucks. I took my little baggie full of treasures and off we went. I dropped Oliver at the VA and headed to the east side of Memphis, not too far from where we used to live.
At the intersection where the one that I remember advertised was supposed to be, there was a Whole Food Market, so I decided to stop in there first and figured I'd ask where this place was so that I wasn't rubber-necking through a very busy intersection (6 lanes, both ways). Funny thing is that nobody in there knew where I was talking about. Finally one middle-aged woman said there was a little strip mall around the corner and maybe it was there. I thanked her, paid for my red-pepper infused olive oil, and left. I went around the corner and found the little strip mall that she was talking about and sure enough, there in the window was a sign that said "We Buy Gold." I got out of the car, locked the door and for some reason froze in my tracks. Something didn't "feel" right. Couldn't explain it but I knew that I wasn't supposed to go in that store. I looked around the area and sure enough, kitty corner from where I was standing, was the place that I had actually seen the ads for - with the blue awning. I got back in my car and as I was pulling out of the parking spot, I noticed that two doors down was a "Psychic Tea Room." Perhaps that explained my hesitation to be where I was. Felt like I was on foreign soil for sure (and I didn't go in any of the stores so I don't know who worked there or what nationality or anything - it was a feeling and not something I saw).
Anyway, it took a while because of the traffic but I managed to get across all the lanes and to the store. No hesitation once I got there either. I walked in, pulled out my little baggie and one of the older gentleman went in back to get Gary - the owner. It was a beautiful, nice, clean, little jewelry store. I stood there as Gary took out his little jeweler's loop and inspected each piece. All but my watch and one bracelet made the cut. Turns out they were just gold-plated. He took the rest and put them on the scale, grabbed a calculator and showed me "the price" that he could pay. I nodded and he brought out the checkbook.
It was not a grand amount by any means, but enough to pay the electric bill this month, which helps. I'm not sure what exactly set off the tear factory. Was it when he wrote "scrap gold" in the memo, or was it realizing that I never again would open my jewelry box and see my mother's or my grandmother's wedding rings, or was it because somehow I felt like I was selling their memories to pay the electric bill? It wasn't because I was honoring their long marriages - both had been divorced in an era when divorce was not the way to go and taken off those rings long before they died. Was it because we've worked hard all our lives and we've had to resort to things like this? Was it because I never would have considered this if Oliver hadn't lost his job 7 months ago and hasn't been able to find anything? Was it because we live in a world where people don't respect the older generation or their experiences anymore? Was it a fear of what the future will entail or was it a past coming back to me? We had lived as very young parents 30 years ago just a few miles from where I was now standing.
I truly am not sure why, but the tears just started flowing, but flow they did. Poor Gary, bless his heart, stood there so sympathetically. His first response was that he was paying me a very good price. Oh, that's the one thing I KNOW it was not about. He said I could change my mind and went to hand me the items back. I just shook my head and said "no, that's not it." I told him I didn't know why I was crying and that I certainly didn't expect to have emotions over selling some "scrap gold". They started out handing me tissues and finally went to paper towels. Gary gave me his card and told me to call him if I changed my mind. I told him that I wouldn't and that I'd be fine. I kinda gave an abbreviated version of what I was feeling. One of the older gentlemen was with another customer but the other one came over and tried to comfort me too. I apologized for blubbering and they were both so very sweet. Gary even said that he would add us to his prayer list. That did make me smile and suddenly I just knew I was in the right store.
Despite crying, I still had a sense of peace and knew I had done the right thing. Finally I gained my composure and left the store. On the way out there was a frail older lady that couldn't quite make the step up into the store. I held the door open and helped her up, telling her how gorgeous her outfit looked as I managed to give her a great big smile. Gary and the other gentleman seemed surprised that I was able to do that, given that I was such a crying mess two seconds earlier - guess all those years in customer service kicked in after all. Some things you just don't forget, no matter how awful you might be feeling at the moment.
I have no regrets about selling the jewelry - none at all. That's why I just don't understand the tears. It's one thing to cry when you know why you're crying. It's a whole other ballgame when you don't have a clue. When I think about it, I actually have to laugh. It certainly couldn't have been about the odd earrings whose mate had disappeared long ago. I don't think it was about the rings. My mom and my grandmother were single mothers back in the day when it was even harder to be so. Times were tough for them both and I know without a doubt that if the opportunity would have arisen back then, they both would have sold off those rings long ago. Actually I can almost see them looking at each other surprised that the wedding rings were real gold.
I even remember my mother calming me down once when I was a young teen. I had misplaced a locket that she had given me that had been a gift from my dad to her. I was quite upset and afraid to tell her about it. Turns out she already knew why I was upset because she had found it. She told me about how she had lost the original one long before I was born and how she and my aunt scoured the city of Chicago until they could find a replacement. My dad was none the wiser. She told me at that time to never get so attached or upset over things and I thought I had taken her advice to heart. Perhaps it's because I've lost so many people in my life and that I've always just had their things to remember them by, but I guess for whatever reason, I tend to want to surround myself with things that mattered to other people. Or I'm afraid that if I get rid of the items, it's like I'm being disloyal or dishonoring to their memory. Oh, I've watched enough of those shows on TLC and HGTV to know that the memory is in the heart and not attached to the item, but for some reason it creeps up when I least expect it.
I'm on a mission this year to get rid of a lot of the clutter and old things in my life. I have way too much "stuff" in my life that I never would have bought myself to begin with, gifts that I have gotten from others, not to mention all the stuff that I look at and go "what was I thinking?" Of course, necessity is the mother of all invention and the time is ripe. No better time than when you could use the money.
I'm sure I'll be shedding some more unexpected tears over the next couple of months as I get rid of more and more of the unnecessary things in my life. There is a certain sense of joy that comes about as you watch someone walk off with something that makes them happy, especially if it's something you have loved and you know it's going to a good home. There's always a snicker, or two, when you see an item that you got as a gift (especially if it's something that you hated) leave your sight lines never to be seen again. Ah, sweet relief. There is also a sense of freedom to know that you will no longer be tied down to items that have had a hold over you - even when you don't know they have.
So, if you stop by our yard sales and see something you like, please take it off our hands and give it a lovely new home. By the same token, if you see something that you gave us, please don't take it personally... we're not selling you, our friendship, our family relationship, or our memories together... we're just simplifying our lives. Hey, if I can make it through selling off two generations of wedding rings to be made into a new piece to bring joy to someone else's face, then all things are eligible for the same fate... I'll just be sure to have tissue and a roll of paper towels nearby because you never know when those unexpected tears will start to flow.
At the intersection where the one that I remember advertised was supposed to be, there was a Whole Food Market, so I decided to stop in there first and figured I'd ask where this place was so that I wasn't rubber-necking through a very busy intersection (6 lanes, both ways). Funny thing is that nobody in there knew where I was talking about. Finally one middle-aged woman said there was a little strip mall around the corner and maybe it was there. I thanked her, paid for my red-pepper infused olive oil, and left. I went around the corner and found the little strip mall that she was talking about and sure enough, there in the window was a sign that said "We Buy Gold." I got out of the car, locked the door and for some reason froze in my tracks. Something didn't "feel" right. Couldn't explain it but I knew that I wasn't supposed to go in that store. I looked around the area and sure enough, kitty corner from where I was standing, was the place that I had actually seen the ads for - with the blue awning. I got back in my car and as I was pulling out of the parking spot, I noticed that two doors down was a "Psychic Tea Room." Perhaps that explained my hesitation to be where I was. Felt like I was on foreign soil for sure (and I didn't go in any of the stores so I don't know who worked there or what nationality or anything - it was a feeling and not something I saw).
Anyway, it took a while because of the traffic but I managed to get across all the lanes and to the store. No hesitation once I got there either. I walked in, pulled out my little baggie and one of the older gentleman went in back to get Gary - the owner. It was a beautiful, nice, clean, little jewelry store. I stood there as Gary took out his little jeweler's loop and inspected each piece. All but my watch and one bracelet made the cut. Turns out they were just gold-plated. He took the rest and put them on the scale, grabbed a calculator and showed me "the price" that he could pay. I nodded and he brought out the checkbook.
It was not a grand amount by any means, but enough to pay the electric bill this month, which helps. I'm not sure what exactly set off the tear factory. Was it when he wrote "scrap gold" in the memo, or was it realizing that I never again would open my jewelry box and see my mother's or my grandmother's wedding rings, or was it because somehow I felt like I was selling their memories to pay the electric bill? It wasn't because I was honoring their long marriages - both had been divorced in an era when divorce was not the way to go and taken off those rings long before they died. Was it because we've worked hard all our lives and we've had to resort to things like this? Was it because I never would have considered this if Oliver hadn't lost his job 7 months ago and hasn't been able to find anything? Was it because we live in a world where people don't respect the older generation or their experiences anymore? Was it a fear of what the future will entail or was it a past coming back to me? We had lived as very young parents 30 years ago just a few miles from where I was now standing.
I truly am not sure why, but the tears just started flowing, but flow they did. Poor Gary, bless his heart, stood there so sympathetically. His first response was that he was paying me a very good price. Oh, that's the one thing I KNOW it was not about. He said I could change my mind and went to hand me the items back. I just shook my head and said "no, that's not it." I told him I didn't know why I was crying and that I certainly didn't expect to have emotions over selling some "scrap gold". They started out handing me tissues and finally went to paper towels. Gary gave me his card and told me to call him if I changed my mind. I told him that I wouldn't and that I'd be fine. I kinda gave an abbreviated version of what I was feeling. One of the older gentlemen was with another customer but the other one came over and tried to comfort me too. I apologized for blubbering and they were both so very sweet. Gary even said that he would add us to his prayer list. That did make me smile and suddenly I just knew I was in the right store.
Despite crying, I still had a sense of peace and knew I had done the right thing. Finally I gained my composure and left the store. On the way out there was a frail older lady that couldn't quite make the step up into the store. I held the door open and helped her up, telling her how gorgeous her outfit looked as I managed to give her a great big smile. Gary and the other gentleman seemed surprised that I was able to do that, given that I was such a crying mess two seconds earlier - guess all those years in customer service kicked in after all. Some things you just don't forget, no matter how awful you might be feeling at the moment.
I have no regrets about selling the jewelry - none at all. That's why I just don't understand the tears. It's one thing to cry when you know why you're crying. It's a whole other ballgame when you don't have a clue. When I think about it, I actually have to laugh. It certainly couldn't have been about the odd earrings whose mate had disappeared long ago. I don't think it was about the rings. My mom and my grandmother were single mothers back in the day when it was even harder to be so. Times were tough for them both and I know without a doubt that if the opportunity would have arisen back then, they both would have sold off those rings long ago. Actually I can almost see them looking at each other surprised that the wedding rings were real gold.
I even remember my mother calming me down once when I was a young teen. I had misplaced a locket that she had given me that had been a gift from my dad to her. I was quite upset and afraid to tell her about it. Turns out she already knew why I was upset because she had found it. She told me about how she had lost the original one long before I was born and how she and my aunt scoured the city of Chicago until they could find a replacement. My dad was none the wiser. She told me at that time to never get so attached or upset over things and I thought I had taken her advice to heart. Perhaps it's because I've lost so many people in my life and that I've always just had their things to remember them by, but I guess for whatever reason, I tend to want to surround myself with things that mattered to other people. Or I'm afraid that if I get rid of the items, it's like I'm being disloyal or dishonoring to their memory. Oh, I've watched enough of those shows on TLC and HGTV to know that the memory is in the heart and not attached to the item, but for some reason it creeps up when I least expect it.
I'm on a mission this year to get rid of a lot of the clutter and old things in my life. I have way too much "stuff" in my life that I never would have bought myself to begin with, gifts that I have gotten from others, not to mention all the stuff that I look at and go "what was I thinking?" Of course, necessity is the mother of all invention and the time is ripe. No better time than when you could use the money.
I'm sure I'll be shedding some more unexpected tears over the next couple of months as I get rid of more and more of the unnecessary things in my life. There is a certain sense of joy that comes about as you watch someone walk off with something that makes them happy, especially if it's something you have loved and you know it's going to a good home. There's always a snicker, or two, when you see an item that you got as a gift (especially if it's something that you hated) leave your sight lines never to be seen again. Ah, sweet relief. There is also a sense of freedom to know that you will no longer be tied down to items that have had a hold over you - even when you don't know they have.
So, if you stop by our yard sales and see something you like, please take it off our hands and give it a lovely new home. By the same token, if you see something that you gave us, please don't take it personally... we're not selling you, our friendship, our family relationship, or our memories together... we're just simplifying our lives. Hey, if I can make it through selling off two generations of wedding rings to be made into a new piece to bring joy to someone else's face, then all things are eligible for the same fate... I'll just be sure to have tissue and a roll of paper towels nearby because you never know when those unexpected tears will start to flow.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Why Adamsville?
It's a simple question really. One of my nephews wants to know how we ended up in Adamsville, TN. As I thought about that question, I realized that it wasn't so easy to answer. Of course, my first reaction was to just tell him "by car" but that would be too easy. Then I could tell him that Uncle Oliver's job brought us down here and that would be only part of the truth. I'm sure he's probably wondering why I haven't answered him yet and I do hope he's not taking it personally that I haven't. It's just that God has this amazing way of taking a simple question, or word, or situation, and embarking you on a journey to learn something - about Him and about yourself.
As I sit here I am filled with all kinds of different feelings. First being that I love it here in Adamsville and I love my friends so very much. We have been blessed to get plugged into a church family that I really thought could only exist in my dreams. They're a diverse bunch and that keeps it interesting. Plus we were able to find our dream house and move into it last year. We prayed for this house and God answered our prayers by providing it for us.
Then there is the uncertainty. After Oliver lost the job last September that brought us down here, we have been living in that murky area of wondering what's next. Will we have to move? That was the first question.... now it's more like will he ever find a job? He's sent out hundreds of resumes, hit the streets, done everything he can and should do, without one single interview. He's good at what he does, and despite being an old dog (although not quite old enough for social security) he's still quite capable of learning new tricks. Our savings having been depleted and no job on the horizon, it's scary at best. We literally have to go to bed at night grateful that today the electric is paid so we can watch tv and have heat, the water bill is paid so we can shower and for this month we have a roof over our heads. Our cars are paid for so there's no payment there to worry about. We have to see the good things or we'd be overwhelmed by the uncertainty of it all.
Oh this isn't the worst situation we've ever been in but it's stressing still the same. A few short years ago, we weren't sure he was even going to be alive as we went through the years of dealing with his cancer - which, by the way, he is free of. Last year the doctors weren't giving me much hope of living to see this day, until I got new doctors at Vanderbilt who not only gave me hope but have very much helped keep me alive and now are thinking I may have been misdiagnosed altogether. So we do realize that things can, and have been, much worse.
Two years ago when Oliver lost the job that he'd had for almost 20 years we were thrown for a loop. We prayed, we cried, we fought, and he found one actually quite quickly. We only went two weeks without a paycheck that time. The only caveat was that we'd have to move to Tennessee. We actually were thrilled. We had wanted out of the Chicago area for a long time. It just wasn't home anymore. We excitedly accepted the terms and Oliver left within a few days to come down here. I was stuck up there a while longer trying to sell the house and filled my time browsing online for a new one down here.
Those were hard days. The neighborhood we were living in was becoming more and more inundated with gangs and it was becoming scary, especially being up there alone. What was supposed to be a simple surgery for carpal tunnel sent me on this wild ride of medical testing and an open lung biopsy all because of a blip on a pre-surgical EKG. While my lungs were the issue in the physical sense, I have to ashamedly admit that it was my heart that was hardening in the spiritual and emotional sense. I felt all alone and scared and mad at the world. I really couldn't blame people for not coming around. I was miserable and was now living within the walls that I had only built up myself.
For years I refused to allow people into that inner circle where I kept my heart safe and sound. Oh, I'd be friendly enough and say the right words, but my actions didn't match up to them. There were a few people who broke through my barriers, but very few indeed. And those that did really, really irked me sometimes. Seems like the only ones that I would let in were the ones that I could have love/hate relationships with. God and I had some major discussions over some of them, yet I loved them just the same. Then life (and death) got in the way and somehow I lost them as well until I was literally all alone, laying in a hospital bed with nobody in sight. Just me and a God that I wasn't sure gave a rip anymore. Go ahead, shake your head... Lord knows I do as I look back on that moment but there I was none-the-less, thinking I had pushed everybody out of my life for good and that I didn't deserve anybody in it.
I literally was ready to just give up on life altogether. We hadn't had anybody look at our house in a couple of months, it was bitterly cold outside, Oliver couldn't even be home for my surgery. Life was bleak at best. I cried. Not a sobbing a cry but a cry out of frustration and just plain having had enough. Call the men in the white jackets if you must but I believe in that moment God came down and sat with me to have a chat. He basically told me that I could continue to harbor all the resentment and anger and live in a past that had not been pleasant within the walls that I had put up myself or I could let it all go right then and there and be ready to walk into a future full of hope and promise. The choice was mine.
It was a Kairos moment for me... a moment of an undetermined period of time in which something special happens. I argued with God that nobody really cared. I had alienated everyone. He so graciously gave me a picture in my mind of a man that I had only met once while vistiing down here in Tennessee two months earlier. A man in a wheelchair, named John. He told me that John was praying for me and that he cared. I became broken and it was in that moment of being broken that I made the decision to have a change of heart. Funny thing happened... within the next 24 hours, while I was still in ICU, someone came and looked at our townhouse and bought it. I was released from the hospital two days before Christmas and was leaving Chicago behind three weeks later. Everything literally changed on a dime.
Back to Adamsville. I, like my nephew, vaguely knew that I had heard about Adamsville but I Googled it as well. When I read that it was the home of Buford Pusser, I was flooded with the memory of watching the original movie "Walking Tall" - with Joe Don Baker. I remember a distinct part in the movie when they were walking down the road from the church to the cemetery and I remembered thinking at the time that Adamsville looked like the kind of town that I would love to live in. There was just something about it that I saw in a movie as a teen that touched something in me. Flash forward 40 years and here I am, literally driving by that cemetery every time we leave the house. A house incidentally that I found online and wanted before I ever even laid eyes on it in person. I just knew. Oliver knew once I convinced him to find it (mostly to stop me from nagging) and saw it with his own eyes. He was here every weekend walking the property and praying that somehow it would be ours.
So here I am, a little over a year later from moving into our dream house in Adamsville, TN and thinking about how we ended up in Adamsville, a place that I am proud to call home. A one stoplight, small country type of town. We still have phone booths on the corners - with working phones. The stores and restaurants prefer checks rather than credit cards. There is literally a barber shop on the corner and not one, but two beauty salons across the street. The kind of town where you can leave something outside and it will still be there when you come back for it. A place where you wave and smile at people you don't know and can strike up a conversation like you've known them your whole life. A town to call home.
In this year I have worked hard to let my heart be open to new people, new experiences and quite frankly a whole new way of life. Never have I been more content or feel more at home. Sure the people are different than others in my life, after all they ride bush hawgs and eat purple hulled peas and fried, well, everything. I can honestly say that I have not met one person here who has "gotten under my skin." Oh there are a few that I may just avoid, but for the most part each one has found a place in my heart and I'd do anything for them and know that if I needed something, I could call and honestly know that they'd be there for me. They're people that I'm so happy to be "doing life" with.
They allow me to be me. I laugh easily and these days sometimes I cry too easily but never, ever do I feel like I can't or shouldn't be feeling what I'm feeling. I don't feel judged and that brings with it a freedom that I've never known before. I never understood unconditional love and now I'm livng it every day. And John? Well he's become one of my very best friends, along with his wife Lisa. My pastor is not only my pastor but someone that I love with all my heart, as well as his family. They are my friends. We have neighbors that drop by just to say hi and we feel like we've been neighbors forever. We feel like pieces of a big puzzle and without all the pieces, the picture just wouldn't be the same - for any of us.
The area is beautiful as well. Filled with trees and wildlife of all kinds. A sky that seems to go on forever. A river that has a power and presence all it's own. I literally feel God's hand all around me. We don't know what tomorrow will bring. I tear up when I entertain the thought that maybe, just maybe, this isn't where I will spend the rest of my life, but I know that I wouldn't trade one moment or one experience or one person for anything in the world. We're not sure if and/or when our time here in Adamsville is ending, but we do know that God knows and we're trusting that He has our best interests at heart. He's brought us this far and the lessons I've learned in the past year about Him and myself have all been worth it.
So, Dean, to answer your question, "how did you end up in Adamsville, TN?" - I guess it would suffice to say that "God only knows."
As I sit here I am filled with all kinds of different feelings. First being that I love it here in Adamsville and I love my friends so very much. We have been blessed to get plugged into a church family that I really thought could only exist in my dreams. They're a diverse bunch and that keeps it interesting. Plus we were able to find our dream house and move into it last year. We prayed for this house and God answered our prayers by providing it for us.
Then there is the uncertainty. After Oliver lost the job last September that brought us down here, we have been living in that murky area of wondering what's next. Will we have to move? That was the first question.... now it's more like will he ever find a job? He's sent out hundreds of resumes, hit the streets, done everything he can and should do, without one single interview. He's good at what he does, and despite being an old dog (although not quite old enough for social security) he's still quite capable of learning new tricks. Our savings having been depleted and no job on the horizon, it's scary at best. We literally have to go to bed at night grateful that today the electric is paid so we can watch tv and have heat, the water bill is paid so we can shower and for this month we have a roof over our heads. Our cars are paid for so there's no payment there to worry about. We have to see the good things or we'd be overwhelmed by the uncertainty of it all.
Oh this isn't the worst situation we've ever been in but it's stressing still the same. A few short years ago, we weren't sure he was even going to be alive as we went through the years of dealing with his cancer - which, by the way, he is free of. Last year the doctors weren't giving me much hope of living to see this day, until I got new doctors at Vanderbilt who not only gave me hope but have very much helped keep me alive and now are thinking I may have been misdiagnosed altogether. So we do realize that things can, and have been, much worse.
Two years ago when Oliver lost the job that he'd had for almost 20 years we were thrown for a loop. We prayed, we cried, we fought, and he found one actually quite quickly. We only went two weeks without a paycheck that time. The only caveat was that we'd have to move to Tennessee. We actually were thrilled. We had wanted out of the Chicago area for a long time. It just wasn't home anymore. We excitedly accepted the terms and Oliver left within a few days to come down here. I was stuck up there a while longer trying to sell the house and filled my time browsing online for a new one down here.
Those were hard days. The neighborhood we were living in was becoming more and more inundated with gangs and it was becoming scary, especially being up there alone. What was supposed to be a simple surgery for carpal tunnel sent me on this wild ride of medical testing and an open lung biopsy all because of a blip on a pre-surgical EKG. While my lungs were the issue in the physical sense, I have to ashamedly admit that it was my heart that was hardening in the spiritual and emotional sense. I felt all alone and scared and mad at the world. I really couldn't blame people for not coming around. I was miserable and was now living within the walls that I had only built up myself.
For years I refused to allow people into that inner circle where I kept my heart safe and sound. Oh, I'd be friendly enough and say the right words, but my actions didn't match up to them. There were a few people who broke through my barriers, but very few indeed. And those that did really, really irked me sometimes. Seems like the only ones that I would let in were the ones that I could have love/hate relationships with. God and I had some major discussions over some of them, yet I loved them just the same. Then life (and death) got in the way and somehow I lost them as well until I was literally all alone, laying in a hospital bed with nobody in sight. Just me and a God that I wasn't sure gave a rip anymore. Go ahead, shake your head... Lord knows I do as I look back on that moment but there I was none-the-less, thinking I had pushed everybody out of my life for good and that I didn't deserve anybody in it.
I literally was ready to just give up on life altogether. We hadn't had anybody look at our house in a couple of months, it was bitterly cold outside, Oliver couldn't even be home for my surgery. Life was bleak at best. I cried. Not a sobbing a cry but a cry out of frustration and just plain having had enough. Call the men in the white jackets if you must but I believe in that moment God came down and sat with me to have a chat. He basically told me that I could continue to harbor all the resentment and anger and live in a past that had not been pleasant within the walls that I had put up myself or I could let it all go right then and there and be ready to walk into a future full of hope and promise. The choice was mine.
It was a Kairos moment for me... a moment of an undetermined period of time in which something special happens. I argued with God that nobody really cared. I had alienated everyone. He so graciously gave me a picture in my mind of a man that I had only met once while vistiing down here in Tennessee two months earlier. A man in a wheelchair, named John. He told me that John was praying for me and that he cared. I became broken and it was in that moment of being broken that I made the decision to have a change of heart. Funny thing happened... within the next 24 hours, while I was still in ICU, someone came and looked at our townhouse and bought it. I was released from the hospital two days before Christmas and was leaving Chicago behind three weeks later. Everything literally changed on a dime.
Back to Adamsville. I, like my nephew, vaguely knew that I had heard about Adamsville but I Googled it as well. When I read that it was the home of Buford Pusser, I was flooded with the memory of watching the original movie "Walking Tall" - with Joe Don Baker. I remember a distinct part in the movie when they were walking down the road from the church to the cemetery and I remembered thinking at the time that Adamsville looked like the kind of town that I would love to live in. There was just something about it that I saw in a movie as a teen that touched something in me. Flash forward 40 years and here I am, literally driving by that cemetery every time we leave the house. A house incidentally that I found online and wanted before I ever even laid eyes on it in person. I just knew. Oliver knew once I convinced him to find it (mostly to stop me from nagging) and saw it with his own eyes. He was here every weekend walking the property and praying that somehow it would be ours.
So here I am, a little over a year later from moving into our dream house in Adamsville, TN and thinking about how we ended up in Adamsville, a place that I am proud to call home. A one stoplight, small country type of town. We still have phone booths on the corners - with working phones. The stores and restaurants prefer checks rather than credit cards. There is literally a barber shop on the corner and not one, but two beauty salons across the street. The kind of town where you can leave something outside and it will still be there when you come back for it. A place where you wave and smile at people you don't know and can strike up a conversation like you've known them your whole life. A town to call home.
In this year I have worked hard to let my heart be open to new people, new experiences and quite frankly a whole new way of life. Never have I been more content or feel more at home. Sure the people are different than others in my life, after all they ride bush hawgs and eat purple hulled peas and fried, well, everything. I can honestly say that I have not met one person here who has "gotten under my skin." Oh there are a few that I may just avoid, but for the most part each one has found a place in my heart and I'd do anything for them and know that if I needed something, I could call and honestly know that they'd be there for me. They're people that I'm so happy to be "doing life" with.
They allow me to be me. I laugh easily and these days sometimes I cry too easily but never, ever do I feel like I can't or shouldn't be feeling what I'm feeling. I don't feel judged and that brings with it a freedom that I've never known before. I never understood unconditional love and now I'm livng it every day. And John? Well he's become one of my very best friends, along with his wife Lisa. My pastor is not only my pastor but someone that I love with all my heart, as well as his family. They are my friends. We have neighbors that drop by just to say hi and we feel like we've been neighbors forever. We feel like pieces of a big puzzle and without all the pieces, the picture just wouldn't be the same - for any of us.
The area is beautiful as well. Filled with trees and wildlife of all kinds. A sky that seems to go on forever. A river that has a power and presence all it's own. I literally feel God's hand all around me. We don't know what tomorrow will bring. I tear up when I entertain the thought that maybe, just maybe, this isn't where I will spend the rest of my life, but I know that I wouldn't trade one moment or one experience or one person for anything in the world. We're not sure if and/or when our time here in Adamsville is ending, but we do know that God knows and we're trusting that He has our best interests at heart. He's brought us this far and the lessons I've learned in the past year about Him and myself have all been worth it.
So, Dean, to answer your question, "how did you end up in Adamsville, TN?" - I guess it would suffice to say that "God only knows."
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Hard to Believe...
It's hard to believe that it was 36 years ago today that my life turned on a dime. It was a cold January day as I kissed my mom goodbye and told her I'd see her later. I was off for graduation rehearsal at the high school and filled with wonder, anticipation and excitement. I was so excited that I turned back one more time towards her before heading out the door and said "I love you Mom" and she returned the sentiment in kind. Our class was so large that we had to divide graduation up into two parts and those of us with enough credits were given the privilege of graduating in January. Once at the school, we learned where we were to stand in line, how to move our tassels from one side to the other as we crossed the stage, how to accept the diploma with one hand and shake the principal's hand with the other and if we had been really lucky through high school, this would be the first time we'd be close enough to his face to see the freckles on his nose. Those who had found themselves in trouble through the years knew those freckles all too well. I had always thought that the freckles had been part of the rumor, but no, they really were there.
It was an ordinary day in the life of a typical suburban teenager... or so I thought. After graduation practice, a couple of us wandered over for a quick lunch and then I went to get my paycheck from Goldblatt's department store before heading home. I remember the sun shining brightly and glistening off the snow as I sang along to the radio, free from the classroom prison and looking forward to "adult" life. I had a strange feeling as I pulled into the driveway of the only home I had known my whole life. The house my dad had built on Scott St. in the city of Des Plaines, which is a suburb of Chicago and literally a stone's throw away from O'Hare airport. The air seemed still and quiet and that was a rarity in that close of proximity to the airport. I shook off the feeling and went bounding into the house like I had done on so many occasions before.
As soon as I opened the door, I just knew something was wrong. I saw my mom sleeping on the couch which wasn't that strange of a sight at all. She had been sick for quite a few years and was known to just stay on the couch for days at a time. What was different this time was that she didn't wake up as soon as the door opened. As a matter of fact, she didn't wake up when I called her. She just lay there motionless. I just knew. A rush of panic quickly streamed through my body but as quick as it entered, it left again and I sprang into training mode. She had taught me well on what to do in anticipation that this day would one day arrive. I didn't see her chest moving in the labored breathing that she had been doing for a while now. I didn't see it moving at all. No need to check for a pulse, like I said, I just knew. I walked over to the phone and dialed 911. I explained to the dispatcher that my mom was not breathing and non-responsive. In those days we had to give the information as to where we were located so I quickly told her our address and then waited for what seemed to be an eternity but was in actuality no more than a few minutes.
The ambulance pulled into the driveway and as I openend the front door of our house to let them in, the front doors of countless neighbors began to open to see what the fuss was all about. The paramedics went to my mom and checked for vitals and shook their heads at one another before glancing over in my direction. I stood there motionless but very composed. After all I was my mother's daughter and I had been trained well. No need to break down now, there would be time for that later. There was "business" to attend to. They loaded her lifeless body on to the gurney and covered her with a blanket. It was a cold January day after all. All the neighbors stood in their doorways as the ambulance passed by, quietly, with no rush. As I looked around the neighborhood, doors closed and they went on about their lives. I turned and went back to the phone.
I called my aunt and uncle who lived across town and gave them the news. I needed to go to the hospital to sign some papers and I would call them again when I got back. The next call was to a good friend of the family, who just happened to be a nurse in the family doctors office. Her husband would go pick up my little brother from school if I wasn't back in time to meet him at home and she would accompany me to the hospital and she called my church's office. I got in the car and headed north on Scott Street and she was standing on the corner as I pulled up to the street she lived on. She sized me over quickly and deduced that I really was quite capable of driving and let me continue on.
We got to the hospital and I was escorted into a room to fill out the papers. Lorraine waited in the waiting room for me. I was about half way through when my aunt and uncle came in. My aunt was very distraught and quite hysterical. I have to admit that I was a bit annoyed by it. My mom had been sick for quite a few years so while the exact timing might have been a surprise, the fact that she had finally died really wasn't. She was furious at me because I wasn't crying and all upset. She had no idea what I was feeling because quite frankly, I had no idea what I was feeling. I was sad but also relieved that my mother was no longer going to have to suffer. I had watched her suffer day in and day out. I saw her struggle to take a breath and struggle to walk the few feet to the bathroom. I had watched her struggle to keep up her strenghth on the rare occasion that someone would stop by to see her, only to collapse in a heap when they left. I knew that now she was at peace.
I finally finished the paperwork and was preparing to head home to break the news to my younger brother. I checked my watch and I knew I had enough time to get there and be there as he arrived home. My aunt and uncle decided to come to the house as well. I made them promise to wait behind a little bit so that I had a chance to explain to Kenny before they came in. It was going to be hard enough but I didn't need to worry about how much harder it would be on him if they were already there and she was out of control. Reluctantly they agreed and Lorraine wisely stayed behind with them to ensure they lived up to their end. I quickly raced home and straightened up a bit before Kenny came in. As soon as he came in, he just knew. He looked to me, his big sister, as the rock he had come to know over the past several years. He knew that somehow I'd lead us through all this.
He agreed to go stay at Lorraine's family's house for the evening so that I could go on to graduation. Now most people would have probably just canceled and not gone but that was never an option for me. Graduation was a very important thing to my mother and I wasn't about to let her down by not going and Lorraine was not going to let me go alone. There were three more calls I made, one to my boss, Lil, and one to Mrs. Harris who was the wife of my teacher and mentor who had died just two short months earlier and the third and final one to the phone company. My father and mother had been divorced for many, many years and I didn't have his phone number. He had a private, unlisted number and there was no way for me to reach him. I asked the phone company to contact him and ask him to call me, that it was an emergency. They agreed.
My aunt and uncle arrived and through, what I'm guessing to have been some stern warnings from Lorraine, acted like adults and did not stay long. They hugged Kenny, for which I was grateful and then said they would talk to us tomorrow. They were disappointed that I was going to go to graduation instead of going to their house but did their very best to hide their disapproval. I was, after all, my mother's daughter and they knew the stubborn streak that ran down that trunk of the tree all too well.
Shortly after they left, my father called and I filled him in. Now mind you, this was my father... he began to lambast me for calling him and disrupting his day. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why I had called him. Gotta admit that at that very moment, neither did I. Being the teen that I was, I just snapped back that "you were married to her for 18 years, I didn't think you'd want to just read about it in the Chicago Tribune. Sorry I bothered you" and I did something that would have met with disapproval from my mother, I hung up on him. She had always taught us to respect adults, but I have learned through the years that sometimes it's hard to respect adults who don't act like adults. Sorry Mom.
I went and cleaned up and got ready to go. I dropped Kenny off at Lorraine's and she and I went on to the high school. When I got there, Lil and Mrs. Harris were there for me as well. I had three very special people there to show their support and love. I remember being there but really don't remember too much about it. I know I got my diploma because I still have it in the box of memories that I have set aside in a corner of the storage shed. After graduation, the ladies took me out to eat - mostly to make sure that I did in fact eat. We went to a local restaurant called the Noble House in Mt. Prospect and they had live entertainment. The band was so sweet and even dedicated some songs to me and to my mother. I was truly blessed to have such sweet people in my life.
I went and picked up Kenny and headed home. He was still pretty upset and it took a while for me to calm him down and get him to finally fall asleep. Just as I was about to turn out the lights and head off to bed myself, the phone rang. On the other end was a very drunk version of the father I had hung up on just hours ago. This time he was being sweet as pie and the antenna in my brain shot up like a rocket. Of course HE decided that my mom would be buried on a hill under the shade of an old oak tree in some cemetery far away, yada, yada. Um, nope. My mom had left very explicit instructions and I was not going to waiver from all the training that I had been given. He and my aunt "had been talking" (uh-oh) and this was what they decided. I respectfully, yes really, declined and told them they had no say. I was meeting with the funeral director in the morning and I had everything written out in my mother's handwriting.
First thing in the morning I headed back to the high school that 24 hours earlier I was so looking forward to not having to grace again. I met with a counselor who helped me find and hire a local attorney. Imagine the look on my dad's and aunt's face when I arrived at the funeral home with an attorney in tow. Perhaps a bit of overkill but I was determined to follow my mother's wishes. They backed down immediately and let me handle it all. There I was at 17, the day after graduating high school, having to pick out a casket and all the arrangements to go with it, having to deal with disgruntled "family" and attorneys, and facing spending the next several months to a year settling an estate. Not what I had in mind for sure but I did what I had to do.
I grew up in a span of 24 hours more than most people take a decade or more to do. As the rest of my classmates were finishing out their high school years, I was heading on a train downtown to hearings and court dates. As they planned for the prom, I was settling into an apartment all alone. Kenny had gone to live with my dad and he refused to let me see or talk to him after that. It really was ok with me because I was having a hard enough time trying to take care of myself let alone a little brother too. Plus it was about time he took responsibility for one of the three children he fathered with my mother. My older brother had been missing for a few years, so I was dealing with private investigators trying to find him as well. Never did find him which made settling the estate that much harder. Not that there was really much to settle by the time the dust settled. They lawyers and PI's managed to wipe it all out in fees and we were left with nothing. I still had funeral bills and other bills to pay off myself and I paid back every last red cent owed.
So, you ask, why am I writing this now and why did I title it "It's hard to believe..."? Quite simple really, It's hard for me to believe that so many people can go through life taking for granted those everyday moments that can be wiped away forever in an instant. Oh it may not be on your graduation day, but mark my words, some time in your life you will cross that bridge. Please, for me, will you take just a few moments to really connect with those around you that you love? Will you tell them you love them and appreciate them? Can you do that for me? Because I can't do that anymore. Through the years I did make amends with my dad and my aunt and am forever grateful that I did before they too died. I learned a big lesson at a very vulnerable age and I have never let that lesson go to waste. In case I haven't told YOU lately, I love you and I am glad that our paths have crossed. Some of us walked the same road for a season and some of our lives just intersected for a moment, but each stretch of highway has blessed me and grown me into the woman that I have become. Thank-you and God Bless!
It was an ordinary day in the life of a typical suburban teenager... or so I thought. After graduation practice, a couple of us wandered over for a quick lunch and then I went to get my paycheck from Goldblatt's department store before heading home. I remember the sun shining brightly and glistening off the snow as I sang along to the radio, free from the classroom prison and looking forward to "adult" life. I had a strange feeling as I pulled into the driveway of the only home I had known my whole life. The house my dad had built on Scott St. in the city of Des Plaines, which is a suburb of Chicago and literally a stone's throw away from O'Hare airport. The air seemed still and quiet and that was a rarity in that close of proximity to the airport. I shook off the feeling and went bounding into the house like I had done on so many occasions before.
As soon as I opened the door, I just knew something was wrong. I saw my mom sleeping on the couch which wasn't that strange of a sight at all. She had been sick for quite a few years and was known to just stay on the couch for days at a time. What was different this time was that she didn't wake up as soon as the door opened. As a matter of fact, she didn't wake up when I called her. She just lay there motionless. I just knew. A rush of panic quickly streamed through my body but as quick as it entered, it left again and I sprang into training mode. She had taught me well on what to do in anticipation that this day would one day arrive. I didn't see her chest moving in the labored breathing that she had been doing for a while now. I didn't see it moving at all. No need to check for a pulse, like I said, I just knew. I walked over to the phone and dialed 911. I explained to the dispatcher that my mom was not breathing and non-responsive. In those days we had to give the information as to where we were located so I quickly told her our address and then waited for what seemed to be an eternity but was in actuality no more than a few minutes.
The ambulance pulled into the driveway and as I openend the front door of our house to let them in, the front doors of countless neighbors began to open to see what the fuss was all about. The paramedics went to my mom and checked for vitals and shook their heads at one another before glancing over in my direction. I stood there motionless but very composed. After all I was my mother's daughter and I had been trained well. No need to break down now, there would be time for that later. There was "business" to attend to. They loaded her lifeless body on to the gurney and covered her with a blanket. It was a cold January day after all. All the neighbors stood in their doorways as the ambulance passed by, quietly, with no rush. As I looked around the neighborhood, doors closed and they went on about their lives. I turned and went back to the phone.
I called my aunt and uncle who lived across town and gave them the news. I needed to go to the hospital to sign some papers and I would call them again when I got back. The next call was to a good friend of the family, who just happened to be a nurse in the family doctors office. Her husband would go pick up my little brother from school if I wasn't back in time to meet him at home and she would accompany me to the hospital and she called my church's office. I got in the car and headed north on Scott Street and she was standing on the corner as I pulled up to the street she lived on. She sized me over quickly and deduced that I really was quite capable of driving and let me continue on.
We got to the hospital and I was escorted into a room to fill out the papers. Lorraine waited in the waiting room for me. I was about half way through when my aunt and uncle came in. My aunt was very distraught and quite hysterical. I have to admit that I was a bit annoyed by it. My mom had been sick for quite a few years so while the exact timing might have been a surprise, the fact that she had finally died really wasn't. She was furious at me because I wasn't crying and all upset. She had no idea what I was feeling because quite frankly, I had no idea what I was feeling. I was sad but also relieved that my mother was no longer going to have to suffer. I had watched her suffer day in and day out. I saw her struggle to take a breath and struggle to walk the few feet to the bathroom. I had watched her struggle to keep up her strenghth on the rare occasion that someone would stop by to see her, only to collapse in a heap when they left. I knew that now she was at peace.
I finally finished the paperwork and was preparing to head home to break the news to my younger brother. I checked my watch and I knew I had enough time to get there and be there as he arrived home. My aunt and uncle decided to come to the house as well. I made them promise to wait behind a little bit so that I had a chance to explain to Kenny before they came in. It was going to be hard enough but I didn't need to worry about how much harder it would be on him if they were already there and she was out of control. Reluctantly they agreed and Lorraine wisely stayed behind with them to ensure they lived up to their end. I quickly raced home and straightened up a bit before Kenny came in. As soon as he came in, he just knew. He looked to me, his big sister, as the rock he had come to know over the past several years. He knew that somehow I'd lead us through all this.
He agreed to go stay at Lorraine's family's house for the evening so that I could go on to graduation. Now most people would have probably just canceled and not gone but that was never an option for me. Graduation was a very important thing to my mother and I wasn't about to let her down by not going and Lorraine was not going to let me go alone. There were three more calls I made, one to my boss, Lil, and one to Mrs. Harris who was the wife of my teacher and mentor who had died just two short months earlier and the third and final one to the phone company. My father and mother had been divorced for many, many years and I didn't have his phone number. He had a private, unlisted number and there was no way for me to reach him. I asked the phone company to contact him and ask him to call me, that it was an emergency. They agreed.
My aunt and uncle arrived and through, what I'm guessing to have been some stern warnings from Lorraine, acted like adults and did not stay long. They hugged Kenny, for which I was grateful and then said they would talk to us tomorrow. They were disappointed that I was going to go to graduation instead of going to their house but did their very best to hide their disapproval. I was, after all, my mother's daughter and they knew the stubborn streak that ran down that trunk of the tree all too well.
Shortly after they left, my father called and I filled him in. Now mind you, this was my father... he began to lambast me for calling him and disrupting his day. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why I had called him. Gotta admit that at that very moment, neither did I. Being the teen that I was, I just snapped back that "you were married to her for 18 years, I didn't think you'd want to just read about it in the Chicago Tribune. Sorry I bothered you" and I did something that would have met with disapproval from my mother, I hung up on him. She had always taught us to respect adults, but I have learned through the years that sometimes it's hard to respect adults who don't act like adults. Sorry Mom.
I went and cleaned up and got ready to go. I dropped Kenny off at Lorraine's and she and I went on to the high school. When I got there, Lil and Mrs. Harris were there for me as well. I had three very special people there to show their support and love. I remember being there but really don't remember too much about it. I know I got my diploma because I still have it in the box of memories that I have set aside in a corner of the storage shed. After graduation, the ladies took me out to eat - mostly to make sure that I did in fact eat. We went to a local restaurant called the Noble House in Mt. Prospect and they had live entertainment. The band was so sweet and even dedicated some songs to me and to my mother. I was truly blessed to have such sweet people in my life.
I went and picked up Kenny and headed home. He was still pretty upset and it took a while for me to calm him down and get him to finally fall asleep. Just as I was about to turn out the lights and head off to bed myself, the phone rang. On the other end was a very drunk version of the father I had hung up on just hours ago. This time he was being sweet as pie and the antenna in my brain shot up like a rocket. Of course HE decided that my mom would be buried on a hill under the shade of an old oak tree in some cemetery far away, yada, yada. Um, nope. My mom had left very explicit instructions and I was not going to waiver from all the training that I had been given. He and my aunt "had been talking" (uh-oh) and this was what they decided. I respectfully, yes really, declined and told them they had no say. I was meeting with the funeral director in the morning and I had everything written out in my mother's handwriting.
First thing in the morning I headed back to the high school that 24 hours earlier I was so looking forward to not having to grace again. I met with a counselor who helped me find and hire a local attorney. Imagine the look on my dad's and aunt's face when I arrived at the funeral home with an attorney in tow. Perhaps a bit of overkill but I was determined to follow my mother's wishes. They backed down immediately and let me handle it all. There I was at 17, the day after graduating high school, having to pick out a casket and all the arrangements to go with it, having to deal with disgruntled "family" and attorneys, and facing spending the next several months to a year settling an estate. Not what I had in mind for sure but I did what I had to do.
I grew up in a span of 24 hours more than most people take a decade or more to do. As the rest of my classmates were finishing out their high school years, I was heading on a train downtown to hearings and court dates. As they planned for the prom, I was settling into an apartment all alone. Kenny had gone to live with my dad and he refused to let me see or talk to him after that. It really was ok with me because I was having a hard enough time trying to take care of myself let alone a little brother too. Plus it was about time he took responsibility for one of the three children he fathered with my mother. My older brother had been missing for a few years, so I was dealing with private investigators trying to find him as well. Never did find him which made settling the estate that much harder. Not that there was really much to settle by the time the dust settled. They lawyers and PI's managed to wipe it all out in fees and we were left with nothing. I still had funeral bills and other bills to pay off myself and I paid back every last red cent owed.
So, you ask, why am I writing this now and why did I title it "It's hard to believe..."? Quite simple really, It's hard for me to believe that so many people can go through life taking for granted those everyday moments that can be wiped away forever in an instant. Oh it may not be on your graduation day, but mark my words, some time in your life you will cross that bridge. Please, for me, will you take just a few moments to really connect with those around you that you love? Will you tell them you love them and appreciate them? Can you do that for me? Because I can't do that anymore. Through the years I did make amends with my dad and my aunt and am forever grateful that I did before they too died. I learned a big lesson at a very vulnerable age and I have never let that lesson go to waste. In case I haven't told YOU lately, I love you and I am glad that our paths have crossed. Some of us walked the same road for a season and some of our lives just intersected for a moment, but each stretch of highway has blessed me and grown me into the woman that I have become. Thank-you and God Bless!
Thursday, January 28, 2010
We had a dream....
After many years of hard times, we thought we were finally living it - the American dream. We had moved to this absolutely wonderful place in Tennessee which put us closer to our kids, there was plenty of room for Igloo (our American Eskimo) to run and a house that surpassed even our wildest dreams - for less than we paid for our little townhouse in Illinois.
We found an outstanding church and clicked right in. Real, authentic, compassionate, caring people whom we have come to love very, very much. For all practical purposes, everything was perfect. And it was, until one fateful afternoon when Igloo was killed along wtih the neighbors dog and our perfect little world showed signs of crashing. Less than two months later, Oliver lost the job that we believed that he would be at until retirement and beyond. We believed that it was God's plan as well and all in God's will. Enough so that we took every last dime we had to get here. And here we are. Our old furniture fit in this house like it was fitted for it and built around it. Couldn't have been more perfect. Lovely lot with a ton of trees and a gravel driveway and dirt road.
We have learned so many things about country life that was foreign to us just one short year ago. Many made us laugh until we cried and there were a few that made us cry until we laughed. But the biggest payoff was that we were able to feel. For so many years we had been held hostage to a society whose expectations molded our behaviour and attitudes to fit in with their expectations. Not so here. Here we have been allowed to be as authentic as any one person can be. If I'm having a bad day and I cry, well, by golly they let me cry and bring me a tissue. If I laugh til I cry, they're right there along side me laughing.
Things are murky at best now. We don't know which direction God has planned for us to go in. I know my hearts' desire is to stay, because there is still so much of the dream that is salvagable. But then there is the pulling force beyond that which demands that we stay in God's will. After all He is the one who has the whole big picture already filled out. I remember years ago standing and declaring from the bottom of my heart "Where you lead me I will follow, Where you send me I will go..." Thinking full well that this is where He sent me... and thinking - nice one Lord.
But like all Christians who have stood the test of time and faith, rarely does the final chapter end up wrapped up in such a neat package. This package was no different.
So here we are wondering what tomorrow will bring. Where in the world will Oliver land his next job? We realize that our dream home has become our Isaac. We will be putting it on the market for sale by owner and see how that pans out. If it's the Lord's will for it to sell, it will. If not, well then we still have it for a while. It's totally in His hands and in the meantime, I have come to understand that He has been imploring me to simplify and cut down on the excesses in our lives. We have too much stuff. So in obedience to Him, I am sorting and setting aside a good number of items to be put in a mammoth garage sale as soon as the weather warms... which could be in another month here.
We have little coming in from unemployment and my medicines and Cobra insurance wipe that out right off. That leaves only our meager savings to cover mortgage, utilities, insurance and food. We're doing the best we can. We've started selling Pampered Chef and we're hoping that will help some. We can float for one more month and then savings is depleted and credit cards are getting dangerously close to maxing out.
And yet there is liberation in being in such a vulnerable postition. My doctors at Vanderbilt have pretty much written me off because I do not have long term insurance plans. All of a sudden I am a number and not a very good financial risk for the institution, so these same doctors who were all gun ho when I got here to help me out, have now turned their back and left me high and dry. Disheartening to say the least but mercifully I serve a greater God who is the Divine Healer and I believe that He already has it all worked out.
And I really do believe He has it all worked out. I just need to be obedient to His call. And right now, this week, He is calling me to simplify and cut down on our excess. I don't believe He's leading us into missions, our age is definitely a factor there, not to mention health, but I do believe He has a plan in motion that we need to be ready for. And so we pray and move forward with what we believe to be His direction.
It's not always easy. There are days when the meds make me so sick I can hardly raise my head from the pillow but I fight those urges to give in and hide under the covers. Somedays it literally takes all my strength to take a shower and get dressed, but I do it. For I know that He does have a plan. He may not make it known today or tomorrow, but I certainly don't want to be caught off guard when it does come about.
We have a pastor that I can't even put into words. He may not be a "perfect" pastor to all, but he certainly is the perfect pastor for me and God knew way ahead of time that he was going to be exacctly what I needed. I have never felt so accepted, loved and stretched to be all I can be by any other pastor in my life. Oh there have been others before who have come close, but never any who have strengthened me, healed me, and loved me just for who I am... and really took the time to find out who that person is. He saw through my walls and came right on in and sat down to chat... and Pastor Rob, I love you for that.
He believed in me because he knew that God believed in me. At a time when my vessel has been more broken on so many levels for so many different directions, he saw something there and encouraged it and brought it to life at a time when the likelihood of that seemed almost impossible. He gave me the job of teaching a Lifepointe Class. A daunting task for a vessel who is whole let alone one whose shards seems scattered from one side of this country to another.
Today I am teaching one of those LifePointe classes and you know what? I LOVE it. Gotta admit I was a bit at a loss for words when the class started taking notes on what I was saying. That is a creepy feeling for the first time. But it just goes to show that God takes people at their most broken and turns them into a clay jar of beauty.
The future for us is full of mystery but also full of hope. My hearts desire is to stay here a while longer but I also know that if God calls us to move on, that we will do so with our heads held high and looking forward to the future and the hope He has promised us. We will never forget the lessons we have learned here from people who will ALWAYS have a very special place in our hearts.
My medications make me weepy and uncertain and a bit shaky, but the one thing I know without a doubt remains unchangeable is the God we serve and with Him my life will always turn out better. It may not seem so to the carnal eye, but I know that all heaven rejoices as one of His own move forward into the destiny that He has called them to. I hear your call and yes, Lord, where you lead me I will follow and where you send me I will go... grateful for the love and acceptance I have finally found along the way. Thank-you Jesus, from the bottom of my heart.
Whether that movement will be a physical move or just more stretching from where I'm at, I don't know, but I do know that I trust the one doing the calling more than life itself. Yes, Lord, where You lead me I will follow, Where You send me I will go. So whether I am here for only a few short months or hopefully for many more years, thank-you FaithPointe family for accepting me and allowing me to be me. You have helped me along in a healing process so much farther than you can possible know. I love y'all and if it's up to me, I'll be grazing in Grace with you for a long time to come but just in case that God has other plans, I know I have found friends for life and that has been a dream I have had for all my life. Thank-you all for the love and support that you have shown me and I count you among my most cherished blessings.
My prayer is that God compensates you highly for the blessing that you have been to me and my family. We love you and we know that God is smiling down on His highly favored children and one day when you meet Him in heaven, He will be saying "well done, thy good and fatihful servant." Thank-you and God Bless.
We found an outstanding church and clicked right in. Real, authentic, compassionate, caring people whom we have come to love very, very much. For all practical purposes, everything was perfect. And it was, until one fateful afternoon when Igloo was killed along wtih the neighbors dog and our perfect little world showed signs of crashing. Less than two months later, Oliver lost the job that we believed that he would be at until retirement and beyond. We believed that it was God's plan as well and all in God's will. Enough so that we took every last dime we had to get here. And here we are. Our old furniture fit in this house like it was fitted for it and built around it. Couldn't have been more perfect. Lovely lot with a ton of trees and a gravel driveway and dirt road.
We have learned so many things about country life that was foreign to us just one short year ago. Many made us laugh until we cried and there were a few that made us cry until we laughed. But the biggest payoff was that we were able to feel. For so many years we had been held hostage to a society whose expectations molded our behaviour and attitudes to fit in with their expectations. Not so here. Here we have been allowed to be as authentic as any one person can be. If I'm having a bad day and I cry, well, by golly they let me cry and bring me a tissue. If I laugh til I cry, they're right there along side me laughing.
Things are murky at best now. We don't know which direction God has planned for us to go in. I know my hearts' desire is to stay, because there is still so much of the dream that is salvagable. But then there is the pulling force beyond that which demands that we stay in God's will. After all He is the one who has the whole big picture already filled out. I remember years ago standing and declaring from the bottom of my heart "Where you lead me I will follow, Where you send me I will go..." Thinking full well that this is where He sent me... and thinking - nice one Lord.
But like all Christians who have stood the test of time and faith, rarely does the final chapter end up wrapped up in such a neat package. This package was no different.
So here we are wondering what tomorrow will bring. Where in the world will Oliver land his next job? We realize that our dream home has become our Isaac. We will be putting it on the market for sale by owner and see how that pans out. If it's the Lord's will for it to sell, it will. If not, well then we still have it for a while. It's totally in His hands and in the meantime, I have come to understand that He has been imploring me to simplify and cut down on the excesses in our lives. We have too much stuff. So in obedience to Him, I am sorting and setting aside a good number of items to be put in a mammoth garage sale as soon as the weather warms... which could be in another month here.
We have little coming in from unemployment and my medicines and Cobra insurance wipe that out right off. That leaves only our meager savings to cover mortgage, utilities, insurance and food. We're doing the best we can. We've started selling Pampered Chef and we're hoping that will help some. We can float for one more month and then savings is depleted and credit cards are getting dangerously close to maxing out.
And yet there is liberation in being in such a vulnerable postition. My doctors at Vanderbilt have pretty much written me off because I do not have long term insurance plans. All of a sudden I am a number and not a very good financial risk for the institution, so these same doctors who were all gun ho when I got here to help me out, have now turned their back and left me high and dry. Disheartening to say the least but mercifully I serve a greater God who is the Divine Healer and I believe that He already has it all worked out.
And I really do believe He has it all worked out. I just need to be obedient to His call. And right now, this week, He is calling me to simplify and cut down on our excess. I don't believe He's leading us into missions, our age is definitely a factor there, not to mention health, but I do believe He has a plan in motion that we need to be ready for. And so we pray and move forward with what we believe to be His direction.
It's not always easy. There are days when the meds make me so sick I can hardly raise my head from the pillow but I fight those urges to give in and hide under the covers. Somedays it literally takes all my strength to take a shower and get dressed, but I do it. For I know that He does have a plan. He may not make it known today or tomorrow, but I certainly don't want to be caught off guard when it does come about.
We have a pastor that I can't even put into words. He may not be a "perfect" pastor to all, but he certainly is the perfect pastor for me and God knew way ahead of time that he was going to be exacctly what I needed. I have never felt so accepted, loved and stretched to be all I can be by any other pastor in my life. Oh there have been others before who have come close, but never any who have strengthened me, healed me, and loved me just for who I am... and really took the time to find out who that person is. He saw through my walls and came right on in and sat down to chat... and Pastor Rob, I love you for that.
He believed in me because he knew that God believed in me. At a time when my vessel has been more broken on so many levels for so many different directions, he saw something there and encouraged it and brought it to life at a time when the likelihood of that seemed almost impossible. He gave me the job of teaching a Lifepointe Class. A daunting task for a vessel who is whole let alone one whose shards seems scattered from one side of this country to another.
Today I am teaching one of those LifePointe classes and you know what? I LOVE it. Gotta admit I was a bit at a loss for words when the class started taking notes on what I was saying. That is a creepy feeling for the first time. But it just goes to show that God takes people at their most broken and turns them into a clay jar of beauty.
The future for us is full of mystery but also full of hope. My hearts desire is to stay here a while longer but I also know that if God calls us to move on, that we will do so with our heads held high and looking forward to the future and the hope He has promised us. We will never forget the lessons we have learned here from people who will ALWAYS have a very special place in our hearts.
My medications make me weepy and uncertain and a bit shaky, but the one thing I know without a doubt remains unchangeable is the God we serve and with Him my life will always turn out better. It may not seem so to the carnal eye, but I know that all heaven rejoices as one of His own move forward into the destiny that He has called them to. I hear your call and yes, Lord, where you lead me I will follow and where you send me I will go... grateful for the love and acceptance I have finally found along the way. Thank-you Jesus, from the bottom of my heart.
Whether that movement will be a physical move or just more stretching from where I'm at, I don't know, but I do know that I trust the one doing the calling more than life itself. Yes, Lord, where You lead me I will follow, Where You send me I will go. So whether I am here for only a few short months or hopefully for many more years, thank-you FaithPointe family for accepting me and allowing me to be me. You have helped me along in a healing process so much farther than you can possible know. I love y'all and if it's up to me, I'll be grazing in Grace with you for a long time to come but just in case that God has other plans, I know I have found friends for life and that has been a dream I have had for all my life. Thank-you all for the love and support that you have shown me and I count you among my most cherished blessings.
My prayer is that God compensates you highly for the blessing that you have been to me and my family. We love you and we know that God is smiling down on His highly favored children and one day when you meet Him in heaven, He will be saying "well done, thy good and fatihful servant." Thank-you and God Bless.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
I cry for Haiti
The images flash across the screen of the horrors that are happening across the country of Haiti. Unimaginable images of the carnage and wreckage that has befallen that country and devestated them beyond measure. It's a sad, sad state of affairs to say the least and for most of us, there is nothing we can do but helplessly stand by with horror on our faces and deep rooted compassion in our hearts. My first instinct would be to try and help. After lookng at the overwhelming need, I'd be hard pressed to try and find out where to start. Add that to the fact that we are in no position to help. We have no income and neither one of us are healthy enough ourselves to be able to handle the dire circumstances that we'd have to face there. Neither are we trained. But that doesn't shut off our propensity to have compassion for these people who have been so devestated and so we do the one thing that we truly can do - pray. Pray for the victims, pray for the survivors, pray for the workers, pray for those who are still lost, pray for those who've been injured, pray for those who have lost and those who have reconnected wtih family members and friends who will never be the same.
Tonight as I watched in horror on 60 minutes as bodies were being dumped into dumpsters by endloaders trying to keep the threat of disease down to a minimum, the workers choking over the stench of rotting bodies, I couldn't even imagine the images in person being seared into the brains of those witnessing it first hand. Their lives will never be the same. It breaks my helpless little heart. These were real people, with families and loved ones and lives of their own just a few short days ago. Today everything that was familiar has been literally blown to pieces. That is so extremely sad.
I sat down tonight to blog about our last year of living without a microwave oven. We were not on any mission or green earth project, it just kinda happened that way. Our old home had a built in microwave and when we moved here, this home did not. So we had put in the contract to have an extra cabinet built to match the ones we have so that we'd have a place for the microwave. Me, in my infinite wisdom, told them that there wasn't no hurry. Not a smart statement to make in TN. And so here we have been roughing it for a whole year - and you know what? We've done remarkably fine without it. That's about as inconvenient and roughing it as we've gotten. Of course now, with the economy the way it is, we are facing the possibility, like so many others, of losing our home. Not an easy place to be but certainly not nearly as bad as the situation that countless numbers of people are having to live in in Haiti. We still have food and the car will keep us protected from the elements if it comes to that.
So I sit here and I ask the dear Lord to hear our prayers. I thank-Him that He is not to busy to hear each and every prayer that is being sent up His way. While our concerns may not be as dire as those of the people of Haiti, they are of no less importance to Him. It will take time and it will take a lot of manpower to resurrect a semblance of a country from the rubble in Haiti, but I know with God's grace and mercy working through normal people, it will be done.
And I know without a doubt that He will have answers for us - in His perfect timing - and I will wait for those answers and go wtih the flow. After all, He really does have more pressing prayer requests on His agenda for more immediate needs. If there were a way to do it, I'd open my doors to have some of the Haitians come stay with us so that we could pray together and thank-God for His awesome grace and mercy in the midst of such absolute carnage. He's there... you can see him in the eyes of the children and in the hopes of the parents. He's there and He's here. He is the great I AM! and for that, I am forever grateful. Please say a prayer tonight for all those who are struggling tonight and today as they face uncertainty in a future that by the looks of it look frought with no hope. Pray that they too will see that God already had in place a way to give them a hope and a future and it's been that way for thousands of years - long before they were a blip on the radar of God's screen.
As you go to bed tonight, I would ask you to thank God for the blessings in your own life. You need not look far to find them. With all the bad stuff He'll be hearing for a while, it would be really nice if His children could remind Him that they are so very grateful too. I know I am. God Bless and good night!
Tonight as I watched in horror on 60 minutes as bodies were being dumped into dumpsters by endloaders trying to keep the threat of disease down to a minimum, the workers choking over the stench of rotting bodies, I couldn't even imagine the images in person being seared into the brains of those witnessing it first hand. Their lives will never be the same. It breaks my helpless little heart. These were real people, with families and loved ones and lives of their own just a few short days ago. Today everything that was familiar has been literally blown to pieces. That is so extremely sad.
I sat down tonight to blog about our last year of living without a microwave oven. We were not on any mission or green earth project, it just kinda happened that way. Our old home had a built in microwave and when we moved here, this home did not. So we had put in the contract to have an extra cabinet built to match the ones we have so that we'd have a place for the microwave. Me, in my infinite wisdom, told them that there wasn't no hurry. Not a smart statement to make in TN. And so here we have been roughing it for a whole year - and you know what? We've done remarkably fine without it. That's about as inconvenient and roughing it as we've gotten. Of course now, with the economy the way it is, we are facing the possibility, like so many others, of losing our home. Not an easy place to be but certainly not nearly as bad as the situation that countless numbers of people are having to live in in Haiti. We still have food and the car will keep us protected from the elements if it comes to that.
So I sit here and I ask the dear Lord to hear our prayers. I thank-Him that He is not to busy to hear each and every prayer that is being sent up His way. While our concerns may not be as dire as those of the people of Haiti, they are of no less importance to Him. It will take time and it will take a lot of manpower to resurrect a semblance of a country from the rubble in Haiti, but I know with God's grace and mercy working through normal people, it will be done.
And I know without a doubt that He will have answers for us - in His perfect timing - and I will wait for those answers and go wtih the flow. After all, He really does have more pressing prayer requests on His agenda for more immediate needs. If there were a way to do it, I'd open my doors to have some of the Haitians come stay with us so that we could pray together and thank-God for His awesome grace and mercy in the midst of such absolute carnage. He's there... you can see him in the eyes of the children and in the hopes of the parents. He's there and He's here. He is the great I AM! and for that, I am forever grateful. Please say a prayer tonight for all those who are struggling tonight and today as they face uncertainty in a future that by the looks of it look frought with no hope. Pray that they too will see that God already had in place a way to give them a hope and a future and it's been that way for thousands of years - long before they were a blip on the radar of God's screen.
As you go to bed tonight, I would ask you to thank God for the blessings in your own life. You need not look far to find them. With all the bad stuff He'll be hearing for a while, it would be really nice if His children could remind Him that they are so very grateful too. I know I am. God Bless and good night!
Saturday, January 16, 2010
My road to football queen
I wasn't born with the football gene. The men in my family were born with it - or more accurately - the Bears gene. I was a very young tyke who got shooed out of the room on football Sunday when the beloved Bears came on to play. I always wanted to learn about this mysterious game but none of them could take the time to explain while the game was on. Of course that only lasted until I was 5 years old and my dad moved out. Then football was banned from the house, although baseball was allowed to stay. So I grew up not really knowing a thing about football and wondering why seemingly grown up men would fight over a little piece of pigskin that each of them could go buy down at the local Toys R Us.
And so it was with compete naivety that I got married to a football fan-atic. And I mean fanatic. We had to have three tvs set up in the living room so that we could see the action on each of the games going on simultaneously. I have to give the hubmonster and his friends credit though, they were very patient in explaining the action to me as it was happening. I was not about to spend the rest of my life banished to the bedroom on Sunday afternoons, listening to the action in the living room. I learned about offense and defense and their moves. There were times of miscommunication, like when they were talking about tight-ends. I would focus on the well sculpted rear ends of the players - regardless of their positions - and found out that the tight ends they were referring to rarely lined up with the ones my eyes were drawn to. All in all I caught on pretty quick. Another slight glitch came the first time I made a bathroom run between quarters. Seems the boys forgot to mention to me that the teams traded sides/goals. I came out and thought that they were running the wrong way on the first play. Ok, so they got a good laugh out of that one.
But I got the last laugh that season. It was playoff time and a very busy time at Denny's. I was home pregnant with Dan and they were all working at the restaurant. Every break they had, they'd call home to get the blow by blow from me. All was well until one particular call.... it went something like this...
Oliver: Who has the ball.
Peg : nobody
Oliver: There is a defense and an offense, one of them has to have the ball.
Peg : nope, nobody has the ball, it's just on the field.
Oliver: Again, somebody has to have the ball.
Peg: Wait, someone does have the ball now.
Oliver: I told you so... who has the ball.
Peg: The referee.
Oliver: Ugh.
Peg: If you'd shut up long enough, I can explain....
Oliver: heavy sighing and trying not to blow his top.
Peg: Turns out that it was under review and they were still trying to understand whose ball it was. After review I was able to tell him the outcome. Needless to say, from then on he brought a radio to work and didn't call home for the blow by blow... wisely knowing that I would have flung the tv at him when he walked in the door.
To add insult to injury, I really was a quick learner and picked up on the game quite quickly. So what started out to be what they thought was an easy mark for the football pool turned out to be a winning and winning and winning proposition for me. Now I have to admit that my "system" was not the most scientific, but it always seemed to work for me. I'd start with looking at the colors of the two teams... anybody who went against a green colored team automatically got my vote, with the exception of Green Bay. Certain teams were favorites all along... the Bears, the Chargers, the Cowboys, the Rams, etc. Now usually that was all it took to pick my winners. But then there were other factors that came into play - like how well the hindquarters of certain quarterbacks looked in their uniforms. A cute butt could trump a color pretense - Joe Montana for example was a fine specimen in his uniform. I still use that criteria although these days I can actually include game statistics.
Technology has brought us a long way, baby. No longer do we have three tv's hooked up at a time in the living room. No longer do I have to be helpless as the stations flipped from one game to another at the will of my husband's instinctis of who might be in a better position to score. God bless the advent of the NFL Red Zone where professionals do the flipping for us and we can actually see the best of the scoring options. No longer do I have to remember the play by play for those who might have wandered from the action - I can just pause and rewind and let them see for themselves. I can also use this to my advantage when one of my teams does extremely well and I can rewind and do the hippy hippy shake dance of victory.
So as we inch closer and closer to the big Super Bowl Game, you can bet that I will be putting my old system to good use although I am no longer involved in any pools. Seems my record was too good and I've been banned from all the old stand-bys. After all even seasoned gamblers can't stand to lose to the same person year after year.
So that's my system and I'm sticking to it. It's worked for me for over 30 years and a wise old man once told me - you don't fix something that's not broken. Thanks Gramps... you're absolutely right. Rest in peace - your granddaughter is carrying on the tradition well. You'd be proud. Now, where's that remote?
And so it was with compete naivety that I got married to a football fan-atic. And I mean fanatic. We had to have three tvs set up in the living room so that we could see the action on each of the games going on simultaneously. I have to give the hubmonster and his friends credit though, they were very patient in explaining the action to me as it was happening. I was not about to spend the rest of my life banished to the bedroom on Sunday afternoons, listening to the action in the living room. I learned about offense and defense and their moves. There were times of miscommunication, like when they were talking about tight-ends. I would focus on the well sculpted rear ends of the players - regardless of their positions - and found out that the tight ends they were referring to rarely lined up with the ones my eyes were drawn to. All in all I caught on pretty quick. Another slight glitch came the first time I made a bathroom run between quarters. Seems the boys forgot to mention to me that the teams traded sides/goals. I came out and thought that they were running the wrong way on the first play. Ok, so they got a good laugh out of that one.
But I got the last laugh that season. It was playoff time and a very busy time at Denny's. I was home pregnant with Dan and they were all working at the restaurant. Every break they had, they'd call home to get the blow by blow from me. All was well until one particular call.... it went something like this...
Oliver: Who has the ball.
Peg : nobody
Oliver: There is a defense and an offense, one of them has to have the ball.
Peg : nope, nobody has the ball, it's just on the field.
Oliver: Again, somebody has to have the ball.
Peg: Wait, someone does have the ball now.
Oliver: I told you so... who has the ball.
Peg: The referee.
Oliver: Ugh.
Peg: If you'd shut up long enough, I can explain....
Oliver: heavy sighing and trying not to blow his top.
Peg: Turns out that it was under review and they were still trying to understand whose ball it was. After review I was able to tell him the outcome. Needless to say, from then on he brought a radio to work and didn't call home for the blow by blow... wisely knowing that I would have flung the tv at him when he walked in the door.
To add insult to injury, I really was a quick learner and picked up on the game quite quickly. So what started out to be what they thought was an easy mark for the football pool turned out to be a winning and winning and winning proposition for me. Now I have to admit that my "system" was not the most scientific, but it always seemed to work for me. I'd start with looking at the colors of the two teams... anybody who went against a green colored team automatically got my vote, with the exception of Green Bay. Certain teams were favorites all along... the Bears, the Chargers, the Cowboys, the Rams, etc. Now usually that was all it took to pick my winners. But then there were other factors that came into play - like how well the hindquarters of certain quarterbacks looked in their uniforms. A cute butt could trump a color pretense - Joe Montana for example was a fine specimen in his uniform. I still use that criteria although these days I can actually include game statistics.
Technology has brought us a long way, baby. No longer do we have three tv's hooked up at a time in the living room. No longer do I have to be helpless as the stations flipped from one game to another at the will of my husband's instinctis of who might be in a better position to score. God bless the advent of the NFL Red Zone where professionals do the flipping for us and we can actually see the best of the scoring options. No longer do I have to remember the play by play for those who might have wandered from the action - I can just pause and rewind and let them see for themselves. I can also use this to my advantage when one of my teams does extremely well and I can rewind and do the hippy hippy shake dance of victory.
So as we inch closer and closer to the big Super Bowl Game, you can bet that I will be putting my old system to good use although I am no longer involved in any pools. Seems my record was too good and I've been banned from all the old stand-bys. After all even seasoned gamblers can't stand to lose to the same person year after year.
So that's my system and I'm sticking to it. It's worked for me for over 30 years and a wise old man once told me - you don't fix something that's not broken. Thanks Gramps... you're absolutely right. Rest in peace - your granddaughter is carrying on the tradition well. You'd be proud. Now, where's that remote?
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