Saturday, December 31, 2011

Cowgirl Conversations with Maddie


About 10 years ago, when I was living in Durham, North Carolina, my great friend Bo adopted the sweetest, tiniest puppy I'd ever seen. He named her Maddie and she and I immediately hit it off. I spent many happy hours rubbing her tummy and sitting patiently with her while she gnawed a bone from my hand. We also played together in the back yard. Nobody had any idea she would grow as tall and stately as she has. I am so thrilled that Maddie and I reconnected during this road trip. As you can see, we had a lot of catching up to do!

Randy at the Daisy Dukes

I suppose I should have known better - I pulled off of the road to go to a Dairy Queen for lunch (a chocolate Butterfinger Blizzard was calling my name) but instead, wound up at the nondescript building across the way that looked like it might have some "home cookin'". The parking lot was huge and paved with stone. Big enough to fit several tractor trailers, and there was one pulling out of the lot when I got there. I remembered that  my dad said truckers knew where to find good food.. The hand painted sign above the door read "Daisy Dukes" and when I walked in, there was the waitress, wearing the shortest blue jean cut-offs I had seen in a long time and a tight little tank top. "Aaaaaaaaah! THOSE Daisy Dukes", I thought. Her red hair was in braids and she was just so darned friendly when I walked in, that I decided to stay and order lunch.

I had entered a low-rent Hooters.

The most offensive thing about the place was that they encouraged smoking. Ashtrays on every table, so I found a booth behind the fan, so I could breathe some cleaner air. Wasn't  too hard, as I was the only customer in the place. The young waitress got me a Coke and I ordered a Southern staple - 'meat and 3 sides'. The special of the day was either popcorn shrimp or a "chuck wagon" - a deep fried hamburger. I got the shrimp. Once I started eating, I looked around. The walls were decorated with photos of customers. Many of whom were women - wearing their Daisy Dukes - some had on wet t-shirts and others, bikinis. But, these were regular, real women, not the plastic pumped party dolls from Hooters. I even smiled a little as I scanned the pictures. The waitress and I got to talking. She had a long shift ahead of her and wouldn't get home to see her 6-month-old baby until after midnight. I noticed the tattoo above her left breast of a cross and a dragonfly. On her back were a pair of angel wings.

A semi pulled into the lot. A balding trucker with bloodshot eyes entered the restaurant. "Oh no. Hi Randy", she said, with a little bite to her voice. "Hey, baby doll, good to see ya", he replied, as he poked the girl in the stomach. Randy sat a few tables away from me and lit up his cigarette. He nodded his head in my direction and I was glad I was sitting behind the fan. After a couple of minutes, he asked me what I was eating and then if I'd like some company. I said if he put out his cigarette, I wouldn't mind a chat.

Randy stubbed his butt and slid into the booth across from me. It was clear that he'd been driving for many hours and maybe hadn't had a shower in a couple of days. Don't know why I decided to talk to him but he told me that he was hauling a load of some kind of coffee, headed for a Wal-mart. The waitress cautioned me to watch out for Randy, as she poured him a cup of coffee. He said, "hey, wanna hear a joke?" and I figured, what the hell? He grabbed the waitress around her waist as he relayed a very bawdy story about 3 nurses and a dead man with rigor mortis. I laughed and Randy took this as a sign of encouragement to continue with the jokes. But, they got bawdier and "randier" and I started to really lose interest in them.

After I had eaten a few more bites, he started asking questions about me. Was I married? Why was I on the road? Where was I from? Then, things started to turn. WHY had I not married? Was I a virgin? Then, "hey, I LIKE big girls - more fun to play with" (And, as a large woman, I guess he wanted me to know that he was not turned off by my size. Oh joy.) Then, he asked me if I could fill his coffee with cream FROM MY BREASTS. Of course, he used the word, "boobs" - I hate that term. Then he told me that they were awfully firm and high, but if I took off my bra, they'd probably hang down. Through my teeth I said "they will do what they will do" as I ate faster and asked for a to-go container for the rest of my shrimp. As I was standing up and getting ready to slap down some cash for my bill and run out the door, he said "Hey, how big are those things? What is your cup size?" When I left, he called me a "princess" and an asshole.

Is it any wonder I am still single???

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Beth and Tina and a Waffle House Christmas

While driving through Northern Georgia the other day, I realized it was time for some grub and a pit stop. Exited  at a Waffle House with a gas station nearby. I sat alone at the counter while glancing at the couple holding hands in the next booth. Nice, I thought. Decided to have the pork chops and hoped they would be edible.

My waitress seemed a little "goth" for this neck of the woods. A short-haired lass named Beth with the tips of her tresses dyed green and a pierced silver horseshoe extending from her nostrils. "Have another cup of coffee" she said as she tipped the carafe. "Today's my last day".  "Oh, why's that?" I asked. She explained that all Waffle Houses are open on Christmas (a good fact to know, while on a road trip) and it is mandatory for all employees to sign a waiver stating that they will either be scheduled for a shift on that day or work on call. Beth  really wanted to fly home to Texas to see her family for the holiday, so she had to quit, in order to schedule her trip. After she served my slightly burned lunch (while suggesting the chops be smothered in Heinz 57 sauce - a wise move) she went out for a smoke with the mouth-breathing-fetus of a manager. 

Then, Tina, a weary-looking 40-something took over. I immediately noticed her pretty purple ring and asked if it was amethyst. It was a gift from her parents and she was sure the stone was real. Then Tina asked me if I liked the rental car I was driving. I got lucky with that Nissan Versa. I told her that I would buy that car if I could afford it, since it was so much fun to drive and very fuel efficient. She pointed over to her identical car in the parking lot and said that she just got it. "I love mine", she said. Then she explained why she was driving a new car. Back in July, Tina, her husband and mother had pulled over to let an ambulance through when screaming from behind, came a big box truck that never even put on its brakes. It slammed into them and then jumped OVER Tina's car. Her husband wound up in the hospital with severed vertebra. Tina had suffered knee and back problems and also required hospitalization. Her mother escaped uninjured. Turns out the truck driver was on his cell phone and highly distracted. Yet, Tina had to hire a lawyer in order to get any money out of his company's insurance, to pay for the medical bills and get a new car. Her own insurance agent refused to speak with her as her old jalopy no longer required collision or comprehensive coverage. Tina had health insurance but it hardly paid for anything. While wrestling with the legalities of the situation, she had to continue working at the Waffle House, so that she could put dinner on the table. Her lawyer said it was best to quit her job - otherwise she could not prove that she had been injured in the accident.  I watched her limp up and down the aisle. 

Due to her legal battles Tina's family is barely scraping by, but she insists on working . Her husband, who had been laid off before the accident, must stay flat on his back for most of the day. And then, she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said "But the worst thing is, my family won't even have Christmas this year." Knowing what I learned from Beth, a few minutes earlier, I understood that not only were they broke, but Tina had to work. I asked Tina to tell me about her 3 kids. Turns out that they are all girls - the youngest is 15 and the others are 24 and 25. I told her that if I had anything to do about it, she WOULD have Christmas!

I ran to my car and to my suitcase, where I keep my little cardboard jewelry boxes. I explained that after my open heart surgery, the Prednisone I was taking made me do wacky things, like buy jewelry off of a web site. I found a few pieces that I have never worn: a silver garnet necklace and a gold sapphire one, as well as a man-made diamond and blue topaz ring. I asked if she thought her daughters might like them and she nodded her head while looking a little stunned. "Now you can have Christmas", I said. Her mouth-breathing fetus manager looked on, disapprovingly. I excused myself to the ladies room. When I returned, Beth and Tina would no longer speak with me, glancing over their shoulder at their 20 year old boss. "What a dick", I thought. I bet he'll go far in the Waffle House corporate culture. I wished them all a Merry Christmas and they smiled and waved me on my way.

Friday, December 23, 2011

House Guest from Hell

I have been truly grateful for all of the incredibly kind people who have let me share their homes this past year and a half. I realize what an inconvenience it has been for you, letting a stranger take up space and use your utensils and supplies, etc. Most recently, my friend-for-life (since high school), Bo - the oboist - has welcomed me at his partner Anthony's showplace. Now, I don't know what gene gay men have that I don't, but Anthony's house is picture perfect, with just the right decorating bric-a-brac on every surface, plus he has added unexpected touches like teak ceiling fans. And, you should see the Christmas tree that matches the living room decor. I'll never be able to furnish a house like this!

So, Anthony is the ultimate host and loves making folks feel welcome. He's been out of town the entire time I've been visiting, so Bo asked me to write something in Anthony's guest book (like they have at Bed-and-Breakfasts) to tell him how much I enjoyed my stay. Here's what I wrote:

Oh Anthony,
Your divine home has made me feel more than welcome! It is gorgeous!!! Sorry about the toilet and the bathtub...and the bed. Didn't cost too much, did it? As for the couch, I'm sure it will come out with a little elbow grease. Just a small fire in the kitchen, really. Only 2 firemen had to come out and they were so cute. I made them use their "hoses" a little more than they should have, but really, can you blame me? Hey, anyway, thanks for being such a good sport and I'll replace those ceiling fans one day. Love, Anne

Ain't I a little stinker?

Thursday, December 15, 2011

Highway to HEALTH

My last blog, "At the Edge", discussed my actions during my sister's recent trip down the rabbit hole because I was the one who had to clean up the mess. I didn't go into details and I'm not going to describe the entire process as I have not worked through all of it yet. I don't know if I ever will.

She says that I am taking the focus away from her and trying to personalize HER experience, because it happened to HER and not to me. Well, unfortunately, our actions always affect others. She will (hopefully) never know what it is like to watch somebody you love move at 100 miles an hour, write on walls (like that guy in the movie "A Beautiful Mind), unpeel the layers of an onion and find lie after lie and discover addictions and illegal behaviors. Most importantly, I hope she never ever has to look directly into the eyes of someone she loves and think she is seeing the person she has always known but realize that nothing is getting through whatever windows and doors her mind has erected, to protect her from horrific memories. Yes, these are my words and interpretations of what happened.

I am not beating myself up for having to call the paramedics to take her to the hospital. It was the only thing I could have done at the time and I'm glad I did it, as I am sure she would have run into the street, torn off her clothes and been hit by a car, at some point. For some reason, she thinks I'm being hard on myself. I'm not. But, I have had a hell of a time these past 2 years and I am praying to God that this was the culmination of everything but it seems that as soon as I get done with one situation, another crisis arises. Now, the self-help books and the New Age philosophers and churches say that we create our own dramas in order to heal from past pains or because we are not living in "Christ Consciousness". Our ego takes over and when we are living right, our life is peaceful. I used to believe that too.

But after all of these experiences - especially this year - My back problems, blood clots, mold and other health issues, the loss of most of my belongings and being homeless - I don't know anymore. Seems I truly can only focus on one day at a time. I think it is natural for the residual of crisis to filter down - it can't be simply washed away. Truth will out, and it will come out in unexpected ways, sometimes.

I need some peace and quiet and to focus on myself. Which is why I'm on a road trip. I am broken and need some repair. Solo travel has always helped. I need it to assist me again. I don't have a final destination on this journey. Only my very modest income is determining how long and how far I travel. So far, my back is behaving well. I have groceries and a sleeping bag and pillow in the car. The rental is pretty gas efficient. Will I go West? South? Not sure at this point. Tomorrow morning the car will tell me which direction to travel.

Monday, December 12, 2011

At The Edge

I have been through so much lately. Well, this entire year, actually. But, the experiences of the past month have nearly pushed me to the brink of sanity. Which is where I had to rescue a family member from on Thanksgiving. It is no fun having to commit somebody to the psych ward. I struggled for at least an hour before I finally made that call to 911. When I described the behaviors I was seeing and the danger this person was posing towards themselves and others, I had no choice. Well, first I called the crisis hotline and described what was going on. They were the ones who told me to call the paramedics, who arrived with 4 cops and somebody from the fire department. They nearly had to break down the door but it was luckily unlocked at the last minute. Otherwise, property damage would have occurred. Even though I begged them not to, they would have anyway.

This was not how I had envisioned spending Thanksgiving.

Then, there were several visits to the psych ward, during visiting hours. It felt like visiting somebody in prison. My belongings were checked and I was taken to a common cafeteria and the patient was lead in to greet me. One time, another patient was acting out loudly and the whole place went into lockdown. Visitors were ushered out of the ward. I was traumatized by that experience, for sure.

Just getting from point A to point B, in the neighborhoods I traveled was an exhausting ordeal. I handled it all, at the time, but I am now falling apart. I realized that what I need most is a road trip. Calming pavement, stretched out for miles with very few scheduled stops along the way will heal me. So, I hope to get out of Dodge very very soon and hit the open road. I need it more than you can imagine, as I am totally at the edge of my sanity.

Friday, December 02, 2011

Dan Rather's Amazing Speech

I have been processing a lot of personal stuff lately, that I'm not yet ready to share. So, in the meantime, here is the text of an incredible speech Dan Rather made, recently, when he accepted The Committee To Protect Journalists' "Burton Benjamin Memorial Award" for 2011. Rather is a true patriot!


One of Bud Benjamin's dreams was to expand the CBS Evening News to a full hour. And Bud wasn't thinking of filling it with helicopter shots, celebrity gossip and punditry. He imagined an entire hour brimming with investigative reporting, exposés and dispatches from around the world.

It was a different time in journalism. A time when professional duty was patriotic, and the freedom of the press motivated and inspired newsrooms. I know it is hard to believe - but it's true - newsrooms were not supposed to turn a profit. Frankly, news was considered an acceptable loss on the balance sheet.

To keep our FCC license and the public trust, we had to use the public's airwaves in the public interest. Yes, that's a whole lot of "public." But that's the way it was. It's the way it should be again.

Today, how we look and how we "present" information has become far more important than how we gather it. It's upside down and backwards. And, the worst part is ... we have gotten used to it.

The caretakers of the Fourth Estate have, at times, left the building unattended. Public interest be damned.

It was Thomas Jefferson who noted in 1799 that, "Our citizens may be deceived for awhile, and have been deceived; but as long as the presses can be protected, we may trust to them for light."

Jefferson trusted the press - not to stir up heat, but to deliver insight.

Of course freedom of the press and of speech both come with pitfalls. People can peddle opinions as if they were facts. Those armed with the big, expensive megaphones drown out those blowing whistles.

But now, we see our fellow citizens taking to the streets. And, that my friends, is our cue to get back to work. As the People of our nation begin rising up, they expect the business of news to be about inquiry and accountability.

And, luckily for us, we can still do that ... but it may not be within the confines of big corporate media. As you know, we are living in an age when big money owns everything ... including the news.

That cash bought a lot of silence for a long time. Enough time for unchecked power to get this country tangled into messes all around the world. We all know that money talks. But, so do the people. They tire of conflicts at home and abroad ... conflicts that avert our eyes from the corruption and callowness that does little more than spill our blood and misspend our treasure.

"We had fed the heart on fantasies," wrote William Butler Yeats, "the heart's grown brutal from the fare."

In other words, we have gotten used to it.

What happens to a country when the press helps divide people into Us and Them? When it fans the flames of conflict and calls it reporting?

We need to restore, at some point, the teaching of the craft of journalism. The best way to protect journalists is to teach them how to do journalism and, therefore, protect themselves from becoming irrelevant.

I am reminded of the finest speech I ever heard on the subject of television journalism. It was given by Ed Murrow in 1958.

Murrow said, "This instrument can teach, it can illuminate; yes, and it can even inspire. But, it can do so only to the extent that humans are determined to use it to those ends ... otherwise, it is merely wires and lights in a box."

Dear friends, we must untangle the wires from the lights. We must halt the steady decline of broadcast journalism and the endless compromises to the boardroom.

Some say it is too late. That Congress wrote our epitaph in 1996 when they all came together and passed the Telecommunications Deregulation Act. Since then, the lights in a box have gotten brighter and flashier ... but the truth dimmer and dimmer.

And ... we have gotten used to it.

The late, great Molly Ivins used to tell a story about what happens when fear grips a country. Molly liked to tell the story about her late friend, the celebrated Texas civil libertarian John Henry Faulk, who, as a boy of six, went with his seven-year-old friend, Boots Cooper, to rid the family henhouse of a harmless chicken snake. From its high perch, the boys found themselves eyeball to eyeball with the snake.

Growing up in Texas, it's not uncommon to see a chicken snake ... but being close enough to spit in the snake's eye must have been quite disconcerting.

As Molly would tell the story, the two boys ran out of the henhouse so fast they nearly tore off the henhouse door ... not to mention doing damage to themselves in the process. When Faulk's mother reminded the boys that chicken snakes are not dangerous, Boots Cooper responded, "Yes, ma'am, but some things will scare you so bad, you'll hurt yourself."

That is what we have been subject to as a country. We have been so afraid; so hell bent on destroying enemies ... both foreign and domestic ... we have hurt ourselves and our democracy.

You are probably asking yourself now what you should do.

Well, it may take courage.

There are so many wrongs to make right, it is going to get messier before it gets better.

We have to begin asking the hard questions once again.


We have to demand and earn back the respect that gave us the right to ask them.


We must protect whistleblowers by using our megaphones to make their risky admissions even louder.


We must demand access to all those risking their lives to challenge power.


We must refuse to simply read press releases and rely on official sources.


And we must begin to enforce our own professional code of ethics. Refuse to compromise. Going along to get along is getting us nowhere.
Tonight, if I can convince you of anything, it is to buck the current system. Remember anew that you are a public servant and your business is protecting the public from harm. Even if those doing harm also pay your salary.

To once again quote Ed Murrow, "There is a great and perhaps decisive battle to be fought against ignorance, intolerance and indifference ... this weapon of television could be useful."

And wouldn't it be great if our country could get used to that.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Pat and Kenny Read Oprah Transcripts - Tina Turner

It took 12 years for me to see this, but Dave, Pat and Kenny succinctly describe how I feel about Oprah by simply reading a portion of her show's transcript out of context. Laugh-out-loud hilarious and profound.


Sunday, November 13, 2011

Beautiful Words

As you can see, by my description, I have a "terminally romantic heart". Well, I read these words today and just started crying. I wish I knew who the author was!! Maybe it is Rumi? Just had to share:


Without you, my heart would be empty.
Without you, I can not live.
Without you my life would barren.
Without you I would be lost.

Without you I could not think.
Without you, I no longer exist.
Without you I could not build my life.
Without you, I learn nothing.

Without you I can not smile.
Without you I would not have desires.
Without you, I would stop shivering.
Without you I would not be anything.

Without you my life would be nothing.
Without you, my happiness would not be fulfilled.
Without you, without you, yes, I would not be me.
I love you and love you till death ♥

Thursday, November 03, 2011

Very Strange Medley - Barry Manilow




Only Barry could get away with this and do it so well. Pure showbiz gold! Enjoy!

Tuesday, November 01, 2011

Vanessa, Kurt, and My Semi-Famous Back

I realized yesterday that the back of my body has been in not one, but two movies!

In 1979, a film crew came to town to shoot the Nazi concentration camp made-for-TV movie, "Playing for Time" - based on a story by Arthur Miller and starring Vanessa Redgrave. I was a freshman at the community college at that time, taking acting classes. We found out about auditions for extras for the film. So, my sister and I went down to the Holiday Inn, where photos were taken and we were asked if we were willing to shave our heads and/or appear on camera naked. We both said a resounding "NO!" to each question. Apparently there were scenes of prisoners being gassed in the showers, and those scenes required nudity (even though it was only going to be on TV).

Surprisingly, I got called in and was cast as a 'background person' (a moving body shot through windows or doors, basically, a blur in the background) for a few days. I played a prisoner and since I didn't shave my head, I tucked my mane under a black and white cap. I wore a drab grey and white costume made of cotton - pants, shirt and longer jacket, and old shoes. The filming took place at a local military base called Indian Town Gap. The army barracks had been stripped of their siding so that only wooden slats remained, to closer resemble the gloomy concentration camp. To recreate a smoky atmosphere, large piles of burning tires were placed around the base and the acrid smell burned my nostrils with a nauseating scent I still remember to this day. I was joined on the set by lots of other locals, all of us looking sad and pathetic in our prison garb. It was on that day that I first heard the term "hurry up and wait," often used to describe how things work in the movie business. Hurry up and get the shot and then, wait around for the next scene to be set up. We "prisoners" were told to march in lines, mill about or, the worst, push a large metal pipe across the road. It was exhausting and I got pretty fed up moving that pipe because we had to peform take after take. So, I stood up. Well, some method-actor, playing a background Nazi guard, pushed me back down on to the ground so I would get back to work!! Boy did that piss me off!

There was a cold drizzle and my bones were chilled during those 2 or 3 days as a prisoner. In between scenes, we all hung out in an unheated empty barrack, with only a torpedo heater to take off the chill. We sat on metal folding chairs, as close to that rocket-looking device as we could. Our lunch was passed out in Styrofoam containers, and consisted of a ham or turkey sandwich, chips and a candy called "Now and Later" - similar to Starburst. I had never seen "Now and Later" candy before. Funny - the few times I've seen it since, I can't help but think of Nazi Germany (I'm sure the manufacturer would love that reference). Because it was so cold and uncomfortable, I didn't like being a prisoner extra. I was called back a few more times to do it, but turned them down!

However a couple of weeks later, both my twin sister and I were called in to be prison guards one day and we both said yes to that. As guards, we wore beautiful all-wool uniforms. Our hair was styled in buns or chignons and somebody applied make-up to our faces. We were also treated much better than the prisoners. Instead of eating cold sandwiches, we went to a dining room, where there was hot buffet. Also, we got to be in close proximity to the stars and I actually saw writer Arthur Miller hanging out on the set, not far away. Between takes, many of us stood around an oil can fire, to keep warm. I tried to act cool when Vanessa Redgrave walked right up next to me to warm her hands, too. When she looked at my sister and I, she said to me "Twins?" and I just gulped and said yes. Even with her bald head and no makeup, I thought she was incredibly beautiful; tall and regal with the most amazing blue eyes I had ever seen. I now realize I could have gotten into big trouble on that day. We waited around for what seemed like hours, as the assistant director set up the shot. At one point, he and the producers walked away for a discussion. I don't know what possessed me, but for some reason, I sneaked behind the camera, to the lens. I really wanted to see what things looked like from the directors perspective. I"ll never forget seeing the small stream and buildings in that frame. It looked so specific and artistic - so different from the 3-D real-life scenery around us. Luckily, nobody saw my crime. On that day, we only filmed 1 scene. We guards ran up a hill, with the prisoners in front of us. When the movie ran on TV the following year, I couldn't locate myself at all as a prisoner, but I think I saw my back headed up that hill.

In 1994, when the rock star Kurt Cobain died, a memorial service was held at the Seattle Center for the fans. Even though I had left rock radio a few years earlier, I really felt I needed to be there. I had just come from therapy (with the world's tallest therapist), and didn't have to be at work at the Adult Contemporary station for a couple more hours, so I got to the gathering a little early and stood pretty close to the front of the stage. Many members of the rock radio and music scene spoke to the crowd. There was a row of cameras about halfway back and some guys were milling through the crowd and filming. They kept asking my blue uncool Goretex-wearing 33-year-old self to step aside, so they could get a better angle on the young "Grunge" family seated in front of me - flannel-wearing 20-something mom and dad, with their baby. Courtney Love sent a recorded message, and we were all instructed to call Kurt an "asshole" as we looked heavenward. We all did. Then, we were given small candles to light. (I still have my candle in my jewelry box). Once the service ended, many in the group headed toward the big fountain, and that became a joyous celebration of the late musician's life. I wasn't about to get wet, as I had to cross a floating bridge and head to work. But, I remember it took me a while to leave the area, since so many mourners were making a mad dash to the water. I walked slowly away, taking it all in and honestly, I was not sure what I felt. I had no idea that the cameras were still rolling.

Just this past year, I was shown the Grunge documentary, "Hype". I could not believe my eyes when, towards the end of the film, the camera followed my blue Gortex coat leaving the scene. My back had once again been immortalized on film.

And nobody knows it but me. And now, you.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

A Letter to My Mother's Priest

Dear Father,

I have been acting as chauffeur and attending your Church with my elderly mother for a couple of months now. I sat inside, for a few weeks, until I felt that I was offending those around me by not sitting, standing and kneeling at the appropriate times and not reciting along with the congregation. When one woman glared at me, I knew I had to move. I now listen either on the back steps or in the hallway leading to the classrooms.

I am not a Catholic. But, I can see the beauty and love in the people who attend. I can understand how ritual and reverence gives humanity a deeper connection to Source and to their community. Also, I can see and feel the love within your heart, and I always appreciate your sermons. I once shook your hand and said "you are a good man" - because I can feel that you are truly filled with love.

What I don't understand is why the Vatican and the church's hierarchy insist on continuing to separate the people - who are really manifestations of God - FROM God. The recitations repeated by the congregation only seem to add to that separation. I sense a real dichotomy, between your sermons and the rituals and rules that you must follow, in order to comply with the diocese and Rome.

You see, I believe that we are all worthy. We are all God. We have all of the answers inside of us - there is no need to go outside to one day hope to find God. Having people say that they are not worthy and calling themselves "sinners" only brings feelings of fear and negativity to the soul, which contains the God spark. I understand why Jesus did what he did. But, his message was distorted. As a scholar, I'm sure you know how many times the words in the Bible were translated and misinterpreted. Entire chapters were hidden or discarded. The power of women was thwarted.(I must say, I am happy to see a feminine presence on your alter, though). All, in order to control the populace.

Again, though, I must say that I don't sense the negativity in you. In fact, I only see love and joy when you greet the congregation after the service. It warms my heart to see you talk to the small children.

My mother would be mortified if she knew I were writing this letter to you. She was raised Catholic and left the church but came back. Organized religion never "took", with me. This is a great shame in her heart. I wish it were not so, and that she would understand that I feel God's presence every moment I am alive.

I dreamed about you and the Church last night and awoke feeling it was time to write this letter.

Take care of yourself, Father, for you are a shining star.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

This is a Singing Telegram

I cannot believe I still remember the words to an annoying singing telegram I used to perform for the Melody-Gram Singing Telegram company of Harrisburg, PA nearly 30 years ago. I Googled the name recently, and it seems there are several Melody-Gram businesses across the US. I kind of doubt they are affiliated with the one I worked for, in the 1980's. But, you never know. In between my stints in road bands, I was an associate at J.C. Penney's, in the men's accessories department, and when I wasn't there, I was carrying helium balloons, silk roses and a little clip-board with the lyrics of the personalized tunes I belted out, acapella, for surprised (and occasionally humiliated) victims - er, recipients.

I probably answered an ad in the Patriot News to get the gig. I remember climbing up a flight of stairs into a tiny office and singing "Happy Birthday" to a rather nerdy-looking man wearing Bermuda shorts, a plaid short-sleeved shirt, black socks and loafers. I got the gig. In fact, for a little while, I was the only employee. To do my job, I wore a black skirt, white blouse (with a ruffled Peter-Pan collar), red suspenders, a red clip-on bow-tie and a bowler hat. I carried a black cane and was also instructed to rouge my cheeks with round red dots. This was called "The Charlie Chaplain costume". My other costume was for the "Bee Gram". Again, I wore a bowler hat but this one had antennae with black ping pong balls suspended on them. I sported a yellow and black striped shirt and put a big black ball on my nose. The "bee grams" were special, because I was required to "buzz" the middle verse of the song, instead of singing it. I had no sense of shame or public humiliation, in those days!

The owner of the company, Rob K., wrote all of his own telegrams. He changed the lyrics to well-known tunes, such as The Can Can or Jada or Danny Boy, to fit the special occasions, most often, birthdays. But, we had customized songs for sweethearts, mothers and fathers day and holidays. If I didn't know the tune, he'd sing it to me until I got it right. Before performing, I'd stop by the little office, in costume, pick up my balloons, the telegram and the customer's name and address and then head out into the city. Luckily, I lived close by and had a car. Once in a while, Rob would drive me to a nighttime job, so I would have a safe escort. I was always surprised that he listened to a police scanner as we traveled down the highway. When it was showtime, I was fearless as I strode into law offices or banquet halls or even on to the stage of a local dinner theater, to sing my songs. The people usually blushed or giggled as I sang. I mean, it is kind of embarrassing now that I think of it. Sometimes I sang into microphones but mostly, it was just a one-on-one or small group gathering.

I think I was paid about $10 or $15 per gig. It helped pay the bills, for sure. Plus, it was fun. And once, I even got to sing for a manager at Penney's, with the entire staff watching. They didn't know I had a second job and were a little stunned. Most didn't know that I was also a singer.

Melody-Gram grew and Rob K. had more ideas for costumes and characters. He went all out and bought a big "Miss Piggy" outfit, complete with full facial mask, purple dress and long-sleeve gloves. I only wore that outfit, once. On the dinner theater stage. I had to hold the mouth open with one hand, so the audience could hear what I was singing to the actor being "honored". Rob ALSO dressed as Miss Piggy sometimes and sang in falsetto. Thankfully, the budding business was growing and several more messengers were hired.

Towards the end of my stint, my sister Linda accompanied me to Rob's house to pick up an extra large bundle of balloons. He and his wife lived in an apartment not too far from the office. As we were leaving, Linda whispered to me, "that's the biggest fire extinguisher I've EVER seen" - as she pointed to the enormous silver canister next to the wall by the front door.

Here are the words to the birthday song, sung to the tune of the Can Can:

This is a singing telegram
To say how glad I am
That you are celebrating I'm relating
Best Wishes on your day of birth
I can't express my mirth
You are so special on this day.

Happy Birthday
One Year Older but don't doubt
Happy Birthday
Time to blow the candles out
Happy Birthday
Cake and ice cream all about
Happy Birthday
you'll have more without a doubt

So just relax and have some fun
The party's just begun
It's time to kick your heels and you will feel
So glad that your birthday once again has come
Its not time to be glum
You are so special on this day!

(and, if it were a "Bee Gram", I had to "buzz" another chorus).

Now, I may have mixed up the lyrics just a little bit - my high school friend, Jill, still remembers the words too, since she also worked for the company. But, just as the business was really taking off, suddenly we all stopped hearing from Rob K. Everybody was perplexed and we had come to depend on the extra money. A few weeks later, we saw his name appear in the Patriot News. Seems he had been caught at the scene of several late-night fires at local churches. He was convicted and sent to prison as a serial arsonist. Not sure what his vendetta was, against organized religion.

I was sorry to see that job end. He was always decent to me, plus, he was the only boss I ever had who gave me a Christmas bonus.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Stealthy Normalcy

I am now back online, thanks to a little cigarette-lighter-sized device from my phone company that plugs into my computer. I notice that my entire mood has changed, since I am able to once again scroll through Facebook and listen to music and check my email several times a day. I feel hopeful and happy again. I have come to depend on the community I've developed via these bits and bytes. I look forward to the new photos of adorable animals and left-wing political statements from folks I know and also from those I've never met. New and old music via You Tube and other services soothes my soul and provides inspiration. Even though I am still mostly isolated here at mother's house, I feel like I'm part of the larger world again. Without actual human contact, I am starting to feel alive again!

Mother does not know I have the Internet back. It might throw her into a rage And, even though she does not have to pay for it, she will not be happy that I am footing the bill and I can expect a series of lectures about my "financial foolishness". So, I must keep this form of global connection secret from her, until the time is right. But, I am feeling free again!

Still no job or steady income, but I say my daily affirmations "I am open to abundance, money easily flows to me" and "all my needs are taken care of before I even ask - I am safe" daily. Also, "I have a comfortable, reliable, fuel-efficient vehicle". Still no form of transportation to call my own. But, I have been starting to ride a bicycle agian (after decades) - beginning very slowly and gingerly. Need to take it easy, for my back. But, it might provide me with a way to the land of the living. Slowly working on this. Plus, balancing on 2 wheels is strengthening my back and core muscles. And, my lungs feel stronger, too. Believe me, I am sick and tired of being flat on the floor and in pain!

So nice to feel hopeful again! God bless the Internet!

But, I must remember to be gentle with myself.

Thursday, October 06, 2011

Mowed the lawn

Just a quickie, in response to yesterday's post. Got the guy from across the street to start the lawn mower. No flirting or pretense of helplessness was required. Can't believe this healing body of mine was able to mow the entire top section of the lawn. A push-mower, not a riding mower. Mother sat outside and watched as I mowed the front yard. She pointed to spots with her cane and made me re-do several areas. The weather was beautiful and I did not let her critical perfectionism get to me (too much - I was muttering, under my breath, though).

Wednesday, October 05, 2011

How Do I Turn on the Damned Lawn Mower???

As I've been getting stronger and am now able to walk longer and longer distances (nearly 3 miles!), I would like to be able to help around the house more. What needs to be done most, is mowing the lawn. A cherubic-looking 13-year old boy named John stopped by the house last week and for $15, he was going to mow the yard. I said yes (but perhaps I should have negotiated a better price). However, it rained most of the week and we cancelled him for the time being. When I suggested to mother that I call him to come back, she informed me that it was my responsibility to pay him the $15, since mowing the job was MY job. Funny, she never told me that before.

Now that I'm feeling better, I'm perfectly willing to do this. However, I can't get the blasted lawn mower started. I have tried several times - but a body needs to have exceptionally strong arms and upper body strength in order to yank the starter at the correct speed. I'm going to have to ask a man from the neighborhood to help me. I think my sister, Linda, has done this before. She is so much more forthright than I, but I'm getting better. "Please, Mr. Nice Man, could you pull this starter for me? I'm such a poor, helpless female and can't do it all by myself..." (although I don't think she's used those exact words, that is her sentiment - Linda is also a much better 'flirt' than I).

At any rate, I'm glad I'm getting stronger. Still using a back brace (from the drugstore) and still have to take Tylenol and the occasional 1/2 a Vicadin for the pain. Especially after sitting or driving for a long time.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Saturday Afternoon Church

I have resigned myself to attending Catholic Mass with mother every Saturday at 5pm. But, I am no longer going inside the chapel or whatever they call the room with the stained glass where the service is held. I drive mom to the church and help her to her seat, next to the wall, behind the organist. She moves very slowly, with her walker, and sits throughout the entire service. I tried sitting in the pews but I had no idea when to sit, stand and kneel. I moved to the back so I wouldn't attract attention to myself, but there was a woman who kept glaring at me. How very "Christian" of her. I wondered if she might have been somebody from my high school. Anyhow, now I sit outside, in the hallway, where the service can be heard via a sound system.

I can't stand the music. Boring and uninspired. I'm sure the singing organist is doing the best she can, but I surely don't get any uplifting feeling from the songs. There are 2 priests. One who radiates (in my opinion), kindness, and another who seems like he has a closed heart. The good priest gave a sermon that was very authentic and human and at the end of that mass, I went up to him and shook his hand and said "You are a good man.". I don't know why - I just felt the need to say it. But I did. Of course, this mortified mother (this was when she agreed it was a good idea that I didn't sit next to her during the mass).

Last week, while resting just outside the doors to the chapel, I was, for some reason, focused on the monotone rote proclamations of the congregation, after several of the priest's statements ("and also with you", etc). I wondered if the people were "feeling it", when they said these words or were they just automatic responses like "have a nice day" or "you're welcome"? Just when I was having these thoughts, two little boys made a mad dash through the foyer. They were giggling and wrestling and having a grand time. They pressed the tops of several of the electric candles placed near the door, lighting up unknown prayers for the faithful. Their mortified mother tried to round them up and their very stern grandma took the older boy (maybe 3 years old) by the arm and he screamed "I'm sorry!!! I won't do it again!" as she lead him outside to the parking lot. I wondered if a spanking was on the agenda? Later, she lead him back inside and the two brothers giggled and continued playing.

Surprisingly, the priest's sermon (is that what they call it?) was about brothers and obedience to one's parents. The first son told his father he would do a chore but never did it. The second son said he would not do it, but guilt caused him to change his mind and perform the task. Jesus was the third son, who not only agreed to do the task but followed through and did it. That Jesus - always showing up his brothers.

I felt more inspired watching the little boys tussle and giggle in the foyer, than I did listening to the sermon. Aren't we all spirits having a human experience? Weren't these small children doing what came naturally to them? To me, they were being real and "living in the moment", instead of those inside the chapel, being on autopilot, robotically repeating words that were drilled into them. Their little faces expressed joy and they seemed truly alive. Unlike many who left the mass early, right after eating their wafer. They seemed to be there out of a sense of guilt and duty.

Maybe I'm totally wrong about this and I don't mean to offend anybody but I just don't get it, I suppose. However, mother was very happy after the mass.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Birds, Squirrels and Bunnies

The most peaceful times at the house are when we are watching the creatures in the front yard. Mother has become quite the bird watcher. She keeps a ready supply of birdseed and suet on hand and I go out and fill 3 bird feeders, put a couple of piles of seed on the ground and fill up the suet holder. The squirrels LOVE the suet (a sticky mixture of seed and goo - probably lard or something). They scamper up the tree and balance, upside-down, on the branch, while they take a nibble. Blue jays also love the suet. The bunnies would give an ear, I'm sure, to be able to run up the tree and eat the sweet sticky stuff. But, they get their nutrition from the tasty grass and then chomp some of the seeds off of the ground from either the piles or the droppings from the feeders.

We've seen all kinds of birds: thrushes, "cat birds", woodpeckers, doves, cardinals and blue jays. There are several small ones, too. Chickadees, for sure. Maybe a finch or two. And yesterday, much to mother's delight, we had not one, but two hummingbirds come right up to the front window and hover, looking us both in the eye. I took this to be a very good sign - for, in the Native American tradition (at least according to the deck of 'animal cards'), hummingbirds symbolize joy and love. We sure could use a heaping helping of that in this house!

One more regular visitor that continually delights me is the groundhog! He is about the cutest thing I've ever seen. All chubby and wobbly as he waddles up to the seed pile to have his dinner. He takes a bite and then sits up and his little mouth and cheeks wiggle back and forth as he chews. I squeal with delight whenever I see him and mother disapprovingly says "he's so FAT!!! He's ugly! "How did he get so FAT?" Mother is unrealistically disgusted by fat. Amazing, considering she is no stick figure. Must be something from her upbringing. Her loving words to me often contain the phrase "Oh Anne Louise, I just KNOW you're going to lose 20 pounds this summer!" Wow. And when I say, Mom, I'm fine with how I am, she says "Oh no, you're NOT!" Sigh.

Anyway, back to the animals. There are, supposedly, a family of dear that roam through the lower back yard, but I've been here a month and have yet to see them. Tommy, the plumber, told us to get some cracked corn to throw down and we might get to see them on a more regular basis. Deer are so beautiful. I remember the last time I saw a white-tailed buck chasing a bunny, in front of a big water pipe in Washington state. I took it as a sign and it directed me to to the right spot I needed to be at that moment.

Perhaps the birds, squirrels, bunnies and groundhogs are also giving us a message. Relax, enjoy the scenery, slow down and find joy in the small things of life.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Dreams and Affirmations

I am having a lot of dreams lately. Dreams about people I went to high school with, dreams about working in radio, dreams about reunions and losing jobs. I suppose, being in the old 'hood, I am churning up a lot of memories. Doing a lot of mental work at night - and sleeping many hours. I am glad I can sleep, bed is comfy and room is private.

I worry about my mother, though. Her health is not good and she doesn't sleep well. She turns up the television and radio very loudly (although, she can hear the tiniest noise coming from me and complains...) I am practicing affirmations (I love and approve of myself. I am a vessel for love and kindness - people treat me kindly) And also blessing my mother, encircling her in light and saying "my mother is kind and good - she is always cheerful and fun to be around - My mother is full of praise". This works now and then. Got it from the author Louise Hay.

Practicing other affirmations such as "the right job is coming to me that will use all of my talents in a creative way and pay me good money" and "I am full of energy and vitality. My body feels good and loves to move." I think I actually walked about a mile the other day. I am getting stronger. Still not 100%

And then I go to sleep and dream about high school friends and old jobs.

Monday, September 05, 2011

Love

I need it - I want it.

It is inside of me, I see it everywhere, when I am not too tired. When I am tired, I don't see anything but - frustration. How does that serenity prayer go?

Patience - I need patience with myself. With others. With my mother.

Calmness. I need calmness in my life. I need happiness and joy.

And love. Lots and lots of love.

Friday, September 02, 2011

Too Empathetic

So, I was told today that I better look for another job. After just one week on this new job. ONE WEEK.

I am "too hard on myself". I "want to know all the answers" and I am "too empathetic". It is a very complicated business and I deal with many, many poor people. I suppose I need to act like Patty and Selma from "The Simpsons", who work at the DMV. But, that is just not me. I want to do the best I can to help people.

I need a job where I can do a focused task, with few telephone interruptions, where I can do research (not scientific) and be in the back of the office, not the front. My boss is right. I am the wrong person for this job. But I am broke. And I don't know what to do. I am so sick of looking for work!!! And now, since I started a new position in a new state, I can no longer collect unemployment.

Maybe I'll learn not to care. But I don't want to.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Better than Yesterday

Still not ready to take down yesterday's post but...things are a little better today. My back feels a little better and mother was more reasonable. We went for a drive up to the "mountain" and saw the beautiful green leaves. Also stopped by the river for a brief respite.

Kind of glad I haven't had the Internet for a while. Negative news really brings me down. Weird about that earthquake today, though.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Gino Vannelli & Metropole @ The Hague Jazz 2011



Don't Give Up On Me!!!!!

Monday, August 15, 2011

Pain and Preparations

I have been checking into all kinds of services in Harrisburg. So far, I can't find a cheap place to get my INR blood tests done. People don't want to touch you if you don't have insurance. Even the Hamilton clinic has foisted me onto somebody else and they have not called back yet, with information. And now, I find I have to have another doctor's prescription in order to get the INR. How am I going to get that in one day from a community health clinic in Reno? Have figured out the bus park-and-ride schedule, found a yoga place with a teacher who understands back issues and have looked into a community acupuncture place.

I wish my back would get better, though. The pain can be so exhausting. I have cut back on the meds to 2 Vicadin and 2 1/2 Extra Strength Tylenol a day, but today I needed more. Am I going to be living in pain for the rest of my life? I am doing some stretches and strengthening exercises but I feel my progress is very slow. I walked for 10 blocks this morning but am now reclining on my bed, resting. Plus, I did a load of laundry and walked up and down stairs. I am doing better this week at not worrying, but I am frustrated, for sure. Tomorrow will be my last chiropractic appointment for a while. I have good days and bad days. Praying that the good outweigh the bad, very, very soon.

I am almost all packed. 1 suitcase and 1 duffle bag My 2 boxes arrived at mother's the other day. Somehow I will get these suitcases into a cab and to the check-in gate at the airport on Wednesday. Then, I'm doubling my medication for the flight. And, I may ask for special transport so I make my connecting flight on time.

I hope my new boss, Glenn, will be patient with me as I learn my new job and I pray that my mother and I can begin a new, positive relationship.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Bobby McFerrin - Don't worry Be happy

Relax, Don't Worry...

Seems that worry is one of the biggest traits I inherited from my upbringing. I know it is bad for me. I know it does no good. Still, I worry. Breathe in, breathe out, do EFT tapping exercises, say positive affirmations like "all my needs are taken care of, I am safe, everything is moving in the right direction" etc. Sometimes it helps. Well, the more I practice it, the more it helps. But some days, like today, when I have too much time on my hands and my back still hurts, the old circles of anxiety begin.

No expectations - I can't control the outcome - everything will turn out just fine. Focus on love. Focus on peace. Focus on positive thoughts. Take a little blue pill. Much as I hate to admit it, the anti-anxiety medication does work.

There are a lot of changes coming up and I haven't seen my mother in 15 years - now I'll be living with her for a while.... And she is a master worrier. How can I keep my balance and not get caught up in the downward spiral of her (and my own) anxiety?

Practice, Practice, Trust....

Monday, August 08, 2011

Hula Hoop Girl

As my back continues to heal, I've been taking nightly 6 to 10 block walks down the street. There's one house, rather unusually built with what look like river rocks. A big white pit bull barks and wags his tail from behind the chain link fence. Recently, as I've slowly strolled by, there's been a young woman outside gyrating with a white-striped hula-hoop. As I'm somewhat mobility-impaired, at the moment, I find I am rather envious of her fluid movements. I'd like to stand and watch for a while but her dog keeps barking until I pass by. Since this is Reno, I can't help but wonder if this bleach blond tube-top clad lass is practicing for her act at the strip club. Maybe she works at Circus-Circus, though, and entertains the kids....

Or maybe I'm just being waaaaaaayyyy too judgmental and she has just found a fun way to exercise? Really - it does look like fun.

Friday, August 05, 2011

Good Things About Pennsylvania

Trying to remember the things I liked about living in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania:

Fall Colors - trees are amazing
The Walnut Street Bridge to City Island
Rolling Hills
The train to Philadelphia
Shoe-Fly Pie (wheat. darn.)
Chocolate Easter Eggs filled with peanut butter or coconut
Old houses from the civil-war era
Hershey's annual antique auto show - hear they now have a museum
Hotel Hershey
Front Street and walking along the river
I have musician friends who live there
Main street of Mechanicsburg is pretty
Union Street in Middletown - wonder if Kuppy's Diner is still in business?
Amish country
Lancaster is pretty
Funk and Soul music - hope somebody still plays it on the radio!
Free orchestra concerts occasionally
The ceiling of The Forum
Other towns and cities are close by

These are things I remember. Don't know how much the place has changed. Visited briefly in 2002, before my Aunt Esther passed away. Saw her and my aunt Nippy for the last time - Nippy died the following June.

I hope I fit in. Always dreamed of returning home "triumphantly". Well, a young girl's fantasy, I suppose. Going back home and hopefully starting a new life.

Tuesday, August 02, 2011

Simple Life

Lots of naps and 2 short walks a day. That is my main routine , as I heal from my "pulmonary embolism" and my back issues. So lucky that I'm living right across the street from a great chiropractor, "Dr. Mitch". He's been helping my L5 lumbar get back into position so it stops pinching my sciatic nerve.

I'm having issues dealing with the fact that I'm taking Vicadin and a blood thinner, as well as Tylenol. Trying to find the right combination so my blood hits the correct viscosity and I'm not damaging my liver with the acetaminophen and narcotics. Went from being totally drug-free, a few months ago to this. Trying to find the right mindset to deal positively with this as I heal. I do need the medicine to take away the pain, right now. But every day I am improving. I feel it.

Today, I got 2 boxes packed to ship to Pennsylvania. Yesterday, I got another bill taken care of (meaning erased!!!!!) from my hospitalization. Little by little things are falling into place.

I once again must thank Michelle and Steve for their kindness, patience and generosity with me over these several months. I know I have not been the easiest house guest. Now the Universe has opened up my next opportunity and I must take it. Flying out of Reno August 17th.

Saturday, July 30, 2011

Tattoos behind bars

While waiting on the number 6 bus yesterday morning, An older man wearing a matching tan shirt and pants came up to the bus stop. He was using a cane. He looked to be in his mid 70's. At first, we just nodded our cursory hellos. But, his arm and neck and some of his face were completely covered by tattoos. Now, I'm kinda creeped out by body "art". Have never responded positively to it. But, recently, I've tried to overcome my trepidation by asking folks about the marks all over their arms. They seem to like to talk about them. So, I said to him, "can you tell me a little about your tattoos? I've never seen so many on one person". And he said, "Well, I got 'em in the joint. I was in prison for 39 years. Just got out a month ago". "How does it feel to be free?", I asked. He told me he's had some trouble having to go live at a halfway house and dealing with the men who continue to choose to live their lives by dealing drugs and committing petty crimes, despite the fact they are no longer incarcerated. He has found another place to stay, part time, with an easier way of life.

We got back to the subject of his tattoos - they were not the most artfully rendered I had ever seen. He told me about an invention prisoners had come up with, involving an old tape cassette recorder. They dismantle part of it, use the motors and hookedthem up to ink pens. Apparently, they work very similarly to how a professional tattoo "gun" (don't know what they're called) works. He told me his ENTIRE body was covered in art and that they were his way of expressing his individuality behind bars. Let me tell you, he did look fierce. Must have been a scary mother in the joint who wouldn't be messed with. Turns out he got into quite a lot of fights and his parole was denied several times, accordingly.

His manner was somewhat sweet, but matter-of-fact with me, as I sat in the grass in the shade next to the bus sign. I asked if the tattoos hurt and he explained that the only ones that really hurt were the ones on his sternum, as this is the place in the body where all of the nerves and muscles came together. (I don't know if that's true, but it sure explains why I was in such agony after my open-heart surgery!). Maybe nobody had ever asked him these questions without judgement, before. To be truthful, I don't know if I was judging him or not. I just wanted to know about him. And then, he told me his age. He was 58 years old!!! This means he went into prison when he was 19 - almost an entire life spent in jail. I thought about the movie, "The Shawshank Redemption" and about the librarian character, old man, Brooks, who was finally released but could not handle life on the outside and wound up hanging himself under the words "Brooks Was Here" scratched on the ceiling beam.

I never got the name of the former inmate I spoke with, but then, he told me he had blood clots in his legs and was having difficulty walking - was taking aspirin to thin the blood. Well, then, I had a story to tell him, about my recent hospitalization, etc. I told him I was going to the county social services to try and get the medical bill reduced. At that point, he became almost fatherly in his advice and made sure I got on the correct number 2 bus, after I transferred and insisted that I pull the cord after the bus rounded the corner from Wells to 9th to make sure I got off at the correct stop.

We sat near each other on number 6 ride - my turn to talk, this time, describing the bizarre journey I had been on this past year (frankly - I'm sick of telling that story and am ready for a new one!) and he listened attentively. Once we reached our transfer point, he lead me across the street to the correct location for the #2 bus. All I said was "Thank you, sir", at the end.

Than I wondered when the last time was he had been called "sir" and I wished him well.

Friday, July 29, 2011

Hospital Bill - Vanished!

It was a VERY long day. Finding the bus stop, lots of walking and making sure I transferred to the correct route to take me to the County Social Services office. They pushed up my meeting 23 days - to today, to show all of my financial information so I could have my 43 Thousand Dollar hospital bill reduced.

I arrived way too early, not knowing how the buses work in this town. Ended up walking up and down the long and narrow building and taking a rest on a circular bench for a while. Finally met with my case manager, who looked very carefully at my bank and unemployment statements, the bill of sale of my car, and some statements from Michelle, documenting my time living in her house and a utility bill. Ellen, the case worker, did some number crunching, scanned all of my papers and took my ID and asked some questions about my monthly bills, etc.

And then she said: "We are going to pay your bill"!!!!!!!!!!!!! "Now, this does not include attending physicians and radiology. Those, you will have to make arrangements for on your own, but fax them the form from us and tell them your circumstances and they MAY be able to work with you".

Such a relief, I can't tell you. Today was the hottest day since I've been here, 99 degrees and I was outside (under a traveling umbrella) for a good portion of the afternoon, so I am BEAT. I am going to wait until Monday to start working on the other bills and just collapse tonight.

What a day. Thank God!!!!!!!!!

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Just Got the Preliminary Medical Bill

You don't want to know how much the bill is. I don't want to know. Hey, it's more than I owe for college tuition.

Apparently, I spent nearly an entire day in Intensive Care. I had no idea. Guess that's what they call the place where the ambulance brings you. There were a lot of monitors but it was not nearly as elaborate as the cardiac ICU when I had my open heart surgery. Lots of folks milling about - lights, beeping, doctors grimacing and shaking their head at the foot of my bed. Rolling down the hall to cat scan and x-ray machines, back to the room with all the monitors. Guess that's ICU.

Tomorrow I meet with the county and show them exactly how much money I have. I sure hope they rule in my favor. I don't know what the heck I'm going to do. And, yet again, I'll have to do it alone. Times like these I really wish I had a husband. Or just a hand to hold. Or a pair of strong arms encircling me. Or a hug.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

And in One Day, Car is Sold

Couldn't believe it. Despite his hesitation and the flaws of my car, Steve sold it tonight to a nice man named Dave, for his daughter. And Steve made the profit I'd hoped he would. We did a bill of sale and except for the title, the car is now legally in the hands of Dave, who's going to fix it up.

Also tonight, made airline reservations to go back to my old hometown. Gulp. Harrisburg. I know. Had to make the reservation tonight because airfares are jumping up again for kids returning to school. Things are in motion. Wow. So fast.

My blood levels are not yet stable. Hopefully I will find a place to get INR tests cheaply. My back is still spastic but praying, oh dear angels help, that it will normalize soon.

Things are in motion.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

It is All I Had - And it Isn't Even Worth Much

Went outside this hot July afternoon after a nap and found Steve next to my 99 Sentra, cleaning out the rest of my car. He took off my KUOW and "Corporations Are Not The People" bumper stickers, as well as the one that said "Purr More, Hiss Less". He did a great job, the car hasn't looked this good in 4 or 5 years.

But, he didn't have a happy expression on his face. He's worried about the clutch (which was always a little tricky but has worked fine for me since I bought it) He thinks there might be the beginning of a hole in the floorboard and he said the engine sounds ticky. I told him it definitely needs an oil change. I can tell he is concerned. I thought that I was giving him a good deal on a very reliable car that he could either sell for twice the price or use for another 6 or 8 years.

Maybe some new floor mats will solve the problem with the floorboard. I could never use them because my size 13's would always bunch them up under the gas or brake pedal making driving dangerous. The clutch took me months to get used to, back in 2002 when I bought it - but now I never have a problem. And yeah, it does need that oil change.

But, I burst into tears. The one thing left that I own, my little car that I can no longer drive, isn't worth much. I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't help myself. It is all I have left. We threw out most of the stuff inside, except for the first-aid kit and jumper cables and a towel. Without a home, my trunk became a place for storage. A lot of the frivolous things like candles, colored markers, a 'space blanket' inside were from my trip to the desert last summer. It is best that Steve did most of the discarding. I was too attached.

But it makes it seem like this 50-year old life has not been worth much at all and I'm trying to "trust the Universe" but lets face it - I feel like shit.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Lower Back Pain Exercises

Found these online. I'm going to try and follow them. Hope they work. No, THEY WILL WORK!!!!

SPECIFIC EXERCISES FOR LOW BACK STRENGTH
Perform the following exercises at least three times a week:
Partial Sit-ups. Partial sit-ups or crunches strengthen the abdominal muscles.
Keep the knees bent and the lower back flat on the floor while raising the shoulders up 3 - 6 inches.
Exhale on the way up, and inhale on the way down.
Perform this exercise slowly 8 - 10 times with the arms across the chest.

Pelvic Tilt. The pelvic tilt alleviates tight or fatigued lower back muscles.
Lie on the back with the knees bent and feet flat on the floor.
Tighten the buttocks and abdomen so that they tip up slightly.
Press the lower back to the floor, hold for one second, and then relax.
Be sure to breathe evenly.
Over time increase this exercise until it is held for 5 seconds. Then, extend the legs a little more so that the feet are further away from the body and try it again.

Stretching Lower-Back Muscles. The following are three exercises for stretching the lower back:
Lie on the back with knees bent and legs together. Keeping arms at the sides, slowly roll the knees over to one side until totally relaxed. Hold this position for about 20 seconds (while breathing evenly) and then repeat on the other side.
Lying on the back, hold one knee and pull it gently toward the chest. Hold for 20 seconds. Repeat with the other knee.

While supported on hands and knees, lift and straighten right hand and left leg at the same time. Hold for 3 seconds while tightening the abdominal muscles. The back should be straight. Alternate with the other arm and leg and repeat on each side 8 - 20 times.

Note: No one with low back pain should perform exercises that require bending over right after getting up in the morning. At that time, the disks are more fluid-filled and more vulnerable to pressure from this movement.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Wow. Living with Mother

It appears that I'm going to have to live with my mother for the first few months of my life back in Harrisburg. This is not like living with somebody else's mother, believe me. Crusty? Yeah, that's a good word for her. Formidable might be a better word. I know she loves me. She has even said that she wants me to live with her as I heal from my latest hospital stay. But, mother (and I) have lived alone for about 25 years. We're set in our ways. She has her life and I have ..... well, I'm trying to regain mine.

I will not have a car, initially, when I move back into her house. She lives in a suburb without bus access. She will have control of the transportation. She wants to drive me to work and pick me up in the evenings. Her memories are of dropping her children off at high school. Perhaps those were good memories for her. I am thankful that she would like to help me in this way, until I can afford a car that will be healthier for my back.

Maybe God is orchestrating this reunion so mother and I can regain our relationship. We barely talk on the phone. One time I sneezed into the receiver, accidentally, and she screamed at me, accusing me of doing it on purpose. This is common behavior for her. Yet, Linda says she has mellowed a little in the passing years.

I wonder if there is any way to negotiate a calmer, more respectful relationship with this daunting Italian woman. Will I become stronger or merely cower in the corner, like I did as a child.

Perhaps my stay will help give mother purpose in her life for a little while? That is the best we can hope for. Give her purpose and heal our relationship. Pray for us?

Friday, July 22, 2011

OK - What to do next?

The car - I'm going to have to sell it. My body is not able to make the trip - hip and thigh can no longer bend in the driving position for long periods of time. Steve may buy my car (for about 1/2 its value) and sell it - he deserves the profit, after everything he and Michelle have done for me. Duplicate car title is being sent to Nevada in several weeks.

The flight back to PA. Hoping Steve can help set that up for a reasonable price.

The apartment ... asking around, will be working for a property management place but I need a safe, small-ish and cute place for between $450 and $500 I think. Any Harrisburgians with any ideas on this? Pennbrook would be the easiest neighborhood for the commute, if I don't have a car.

Need to figure out how to get my few belongings back to the Keystone State for the cheapest price. Perhaps I could ship my duffle bag full of stuff via Greyhound a few days before I leave? That will leave me with a suitcase and small backpack.

Many more things to think of and to coordinate. Any ideas or help, please write me a comment. Thanks so much.

Still don't know what's going to happen with the medical bills etc.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Terrified

You know what, guys? I am so terrified right now. I have been offered a job in Harrisburg, my old hometown, by an old school friend. He's being really, really kind and generous to offer me this position and I am so thankful and grateful for it.

But I'm scared. I have been through so damn much this past year, especially, and I'm just trying to calm down and see the good in all of it. I've just been out of the hospital for a few days, am trying to get my blood levels stable on blood thinners, have been living for far too long on the generosity of friends and I am so ready to stop sponging off of people and make my own way. Like I used to.

So, I'm just writing this little blog to tell the universe that I'm trying to trust you. I'm trying. I'm THRILLED to have been offered a job, believe me. No guarantees that it will work out. No guarantees in anything in this life. Thank you God for all of the blessings and gifts I have been given.

Is it ok to be thankful but still terrified?

Monday, July 18, 2011

Out of the Hospital

Those were the longest 6 days of my life. I swear. I had no window to look out of. Had no idea where I was, logistically, in Reno. Thank goodness somebody had installed lovely photos of springtime trees and a blue sky above my bed. At least I had that. Loneliest days of my life, too. I broke down into tears when an old friend of my father's stopped by for about 5 minutes and handed me $100. It was almost as if my dad, himself, came by for a few. Paulette, dad's 3rd wife, Juanita's daughter, set it up. She was an angel and I can't thank her enough for that.

About a week before I called the paramedics to take me to the ER, I kept saying to my sister Linda (and also my friend, Angela) that I need to go to the hospital. I didn't know why. I thought it was just because I was depressed. I had no idea that life-threatening blood clots had made their way into my lungs. I did know that I had no energy and could barely make it down the stairs. I fell to the floor twice in the shower, didn't have the strength to bathe. I had no idea why. Sure my back hurt like hell but it was much worse than before.

My doctor at the hospital was bizarre. Reminded me of "Dr. Spaceman" on the TV show 30 Rock. Talked a lot of gibberish. I think he was trying to be funny or something. The nurses were very young - all under 30 years old. The nursing assistants (who took blood pressure and helped bathe me and stuff) were generally older - and mostly very, very kind women. It was difficult listening to my room mate Cathy Ann moan at night and I'm sure she didn't appreciate my tears, either. What could we do? Alone, in pain, our bodies out of our control. She was there for liver disease - alcohol related. She had a lot of friends and acquaintances visit her side of the room. Steve and Michelle were able to take time out from their busy schedules to visit me a couple of times and I'm so thankful for their support and the fact that they brought me the computer. Cathy kept that TV turned on all the time. Luckily, the sound volume was pretty low. I had to keep asking the nursing assistants to move the curtain so I couldn't see the flashing lights of the screen. So distracting.

The food - dear God, they had me on a renal (kidney problem) diet because when I was admitted, my fluid intake was pretty low. I never want to go to the hospital again, OK? NEVER NEVER NEVER want to be a patient. 2 times in 3 years is way too much.

Finally, Michelle deserves so many thanks for helping me during the discharge. We got my medical records rather easily, but the nurses screwed up and did not send my meds (that I came into the ER with) to the pharmacy, like they were supposed to. Michelle also pushed me all over the hospital. Strong woman, for such a small person. I wish her much good luck and happiness in life.

I am so glad I am out of there.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

So Lonely

Try to be brave. Try to be strong. Try to think positive thoughts.
God, I'm so lonely. This is worse than when I had open heart surgery. At least Lisa was with me and I had visitors. Here I am in this town and only know 3 people. And I have to be in bed all day. I keep praying I'll get better. I guess my lungs are getting stronger and they finally took that MRI on my back but no results just yet. "Trust in the process of life - that everything is moving towards the highest good. I have everything that I need and I am safe". I think those words over and over and then dose off to sleep. I have no idea what is next for me in life, if anything.

Today I signed a living will and did power of attorney paperwork. Linda will tell them to pull the plug, if need be. Figured Lisa has had enough of my burdens for a while. If they can't find her, I've told them to call Steve. Hope he doesn't mind. I asked to be cremated and have my ashes either kept by the family or strewn in the Puget Sound. Guess somebody's gotta make these decisions.

I had dreamed that by this time this year, I would have love. True love. Perhaps I lived in my head too long or made all the wrong moves. Perhaps I made too many wrong turns or was too stubborn in my life. Perhaps everything is going perfectly to plan and all of this will lead to something so wonderful I can't even fathom it?

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Things are looking up???

OK Found out who my Dr. is - Dr. Math. They found an additional blood clot in my LEFT leg - all of the pain is in my right leg and sciatica. He promises to schedule an MRI for tomorrow. FINALLY!!!! I will not be allowed to have any kind of surgery more invasive than a haircut while I'm on blood thinners and may have to stay on Kumaden for 6 months or so. At least now we know...He asked if I'd taken any long drives lately. So, I was right about my long drive leading up to the back pain. Just had no idea about the blood clots. Good thing I wasn't walking around much or more of them would have broken off.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Don't keep me alive by science

They don't make it easy here to write a 'living will'. I have just jotted a letter saying I don't want to be kept on life support if they can't resuscitate me. Only resuscitate me once and then, if it doesn't work, just let me go, OK? Y'all are my witnesses on this. Date July 12, 2011, time 4:48pm Pacific.

do they have any idea????

still typing with fingers and hands with tubes on them.

So, doctors are positive a massive blood clot passed THROUGH my heart, probably from my leg and into my lungs. They are waiting for the one giant clot to break up. I am still waiting for ultra sound to find clots in my right leg, which one of the doctors says is more swollen than the left leg. He says they might not find a clot in there, that it may have already passed upwards. But, I'm having a hard time communicating with doctors. They are finding me anxious and difficult to deal with. All I want are answers to questions and for them to consider other options. I'm not being difficult!!!!

I wonder if this is the end of my life or a new beginning?

Monday, July 11, 2011

Hard typing with tubes on your hands

fMy right hand has a clear tube with a blood thinning solution seeping through it. My left index finger has some sort of monitor attached and my left wrist has a lot of puncture wounds covered by gauze. Blood clots of all things. In my lungs - one "massive" clot and several other smaller ones. And I originally called thee paramedics because my sciatic nerve pain down the back of my left leg has not healed and I could not even move off of the floor.

There's a lot to process - More larer

Thursday, July 07, 2011

I need help

This post is not going to get me a job. I am in dire straits. I have been taking the small steps I can, in order to help myself: Started attending CSL. Took a class in the EFT tapping technique to help reduce anxiety. Was taken to the emergency room to get anxiety and anti-depressant meds. Got into the state system to get these medicines for free, due to my impoverished state. Started feeling better. But, when I went for a drive, my back went out again and I am once again in very bad pain. Have gone to the chiropractor. Even went to an acupuncturist who did not help - he said I needed an MRI before he could get to the root of the problem, which may be bulging discs 4 and 5. I cannot afford an MRI - I have called many, many places - free clinics cannot help. They do not have the equipment.

Too much has happened in too short of a time. Last year, perhaps I did go "manic", as Dr. Cohen said. All I know is that after losing 2 jobs and a place to live, I kept getting progressively sicker and sicker, coughing, body swelling up in my hands and legs, even more. I heard a voice scream inside my head saying that it was mold and that I had to get to the desert. Which I did. When I got back, Lisa generously took me back in. But, I was unable to concentrate and could not find a job. After 6 months, the threw me out I had become too much for her. I went to Eireen and Phil's for a couple of days and then, Steve and Michelle generously allowed me to stay with them. It has been over 4 months now. I have been applying for jobs constantly and only have had 2 interviews - both unsuccessful. I have had my mental and physical health deteriorate. They did not sign up for this, for sure. This was just supposed to be a temporary place to stay until I got back up on my feet. But, it seems that I keep falling down. They have been very, very kind to me but I do not want to lose our friendship.

Today, I wanted to try and take further control of my situation, so I drove to the community clinic "HAWC" - when I got to the financial intake room, my back went into spasm and I was wheeled to a dr's office. They put me in a wheel chair and I waited and filled out papers, mostly by kneeling on the floor. They wanted me to go on Prednisone steroid packs but after checking with Linda and Angela, who both screamed "NO!!!!" I was put on muscle relaxants and a super kind of anti-anflamitory drug. I feel like a zombie - a drug addict. The pain i less, however. Lord - help me out of this, please!

I don't know what to do. I don't know where to go. I fear I may soon be out on the streets. I need serious help. Fast.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Woman on Top with the Metropole



This has to be the best song he has yet to record. God I wish I was as confident as the woman he's singing about. Hell of a song.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Reno Rodeo



This was one of my favorite parts from last night's rodeo. The free running of the mares and their baby colts. Such beautiful horses at the Reno Rodeo.

I don't consider myself a cowgirl (although for some reason, several people called me that, last summer, while I was in Angel Fire, NM) and don't know much about animals but I surely can appreciate the beauty of horses. And cattle. Love animals.

I didn't really understand most of what happened during the rodeo. Men took painful-looking rides on bucking broncos. I asked my friends if these men were ever able to reproduce. Surely their manly parts get knocked around and injured during the barely 8 second rides on top of those 4-legged beasts. You'd be surprised how long 8-seconds seems. That is the length required to stay on top of a bull, in order to have a qualifying ride. I'm not sure how long a cowboy has to stay on top of a bucking bronco in order to get points. There were several types of competitions. Roping calves, for instance. The cowboy rode up with a lasso and pulled down a running calf. Then, somehow, his horse walked backwards with the rope while the cowboy wrestled the calf to the ground and tied up his legs. Everything was timed to the second. 14 seconds was way too long. I think 7 or 8 seconds was the winning time.

And, there is a LOT of banter during the rodeo, to keep the crowd pumped up. A man on a platform and another man on horseback have a running commentary throughout the entire show. They discuss competitors stats and tell a lot of bad jokes. A jingoistic Patriotic theme runs throughout the proceedings. I sure get sick of hearing how great America is. I mean - aren't other countries great, too? Why do we keep having to remind ourselves our country is great? I think it is because people's faith in this nation is wavering due to corporate control. Or, maybe it is due to the fears about this economy - or perhaps just general prejudice. One man is employed as the "rodeo clown". He seems to have a tough job of not only making people laugh, but always being at the ready to rescue a cowboy should a wayward horse or bull cross his path. Plus, this clown was also a stunt motorcycle rider who jumped over a horse trailer and pick-up truck during intermission.

My favorite event of the rodeo was the one where several women rode gorgeous steeds at breakneck speed and then had them serpentine around barrels. The horses were majestic and I was thrilled that women took part in the contest. The winner was the oldest competitor and the commentators said she was a grandma. I bet she is one heck of a classy dame.

The grandstands were packed last night, in the 95 degree heat. Thanks to Michelle, we were in the shady grandstand. Saw a lot of cowboys and cowgirls walking by. Lots of blonde hair and short-shorts and cowboy boots on the girls. The boys wore mostly t-shirts and jeans and of course, cowboy hats.

I really felt like I had landed in an alternative universe last night. I'm glad I got to go and see what all the fuss was about.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Hypnotism

Just finished the latest Richard Bach book, 'Hypnotizing Maria'. In the book, Bach discusses how we all hypnotize ourselves each and every day, by accepting a long series of suggestions about who we are and what are life is about. He postulates that we are constantly in the process of creating our own lives through a series of agreements. It is a simple little book, not more than 150 pages long. The story begins with a man volunteering to be a subject for an on-stage hypnotist, who successfully convinces the man that he is trapped behind a series of granite walls and cannot get out. Once the hypnotist snaps his fingers, the man realizes that he is on an empty stage and that the rocks and barriers were only in his mind. Bach says that all of us do this in order to create our existence. Through the course of the book, the man, a pilot - like all of Bach's protagonists - has a mystical encounter with a woman hitchhiker, who solidifies his theory. He has a series of epiphanies that take him further to his conclusion that we are all spirits, choosing to have a physical experience of life. Our lives are made up of the choices we make and the suggestions we accept and reject.

He discusses the law of attraction, at length. Our thoughts attract our experiences. There are no coincidences. We are what and whom we decide we are. Each life is made up from an infinite amount of possible choices. None of this is new material. It is Bach's latest take on ancient wisdom and ground he's covered, somewhat, in his earlier books like "Illusions" and "One". While I can sometimes be irritated by his writing style, his messages have always spoken to me. Perhaps 'Hypnotizing Maria' is just the book I needed to read today, to assist me on my journey.

If I am creating this life through the choices I make, than I have certainly created an interesting life. It has been filled with music, laughter and mayhem as well as boredom and sadness. I am visualizing a better life now. One filled with even more laughter and music and this time, I am bringing romantic love into my field of vision. I have had a vision for a long time now of a man, working in his music studio downstairs into the evening. He has to get his project completed. I clearly see myself preparing a grilled cheese sandwich for him and carrying it down to him on a plate. He looks up from his control board and computer and gives me a loving smile. He takes me into his arms and kisses me tenderly.

I like self-hypnosis.

Wednesday, June 08, 2011

You Can't Get Rid of Match.com!!!

I have been trying to get off of this service forever. Steve even cancelled it. But, I received an email from a man and I sent a reply saying I was not interested. Apparently, this was enough to sign me up for the service again!! I can't afford it, I don't like it and I want it gone. I guess I should cancel my email account where the Match.com notices are sent. This is a giant pain. Yes, I want a man in my life. But no, I don't want to go through the computer selection process and deal with all of the fake scammers. Such a pain in the ass.

You know, I bet Match.com employs people to send out "winks" and emails to recently cancelled members, in order to con them into a renewed membership.

Wednesday, June 01, 2011

Who Am I Anyway?

Am I my resume?

Those words are the first line of a song from the musical, "A Chorus Line".

They are also the reason for my malaise and doubt yesterday, as I tried to rework my resume to find a job in Reno. In yesterday's blog, I thought of myself in terms of the jobs I have held and the reasons I left them. I felt like a failure, having held so many positions in the past decade. So much emotion is tied up in the way we make money.

There's nothing like searching for a job to depress the hell out of you.

But, my resume does not tell the whole story. It doesn't mention my love of animals, and except for the fact that I made my living in the radio business, it totally ignores my passion for music. You can't tell that I am a kind person by my past jobs. A sequential listing of careers and places I've worked is just a way to market myself as a desired commodity or stereotype that will attract the attention of a potential employer. I have been advised to downplay those aspects of my personality that will show me as being too quirky and too much of an individual.

I was in my monkey mind yesterday. The endless swirl of thoughts and doubts and anxiety that make me crazy. Some days, it is so hard to find peace - peace of mind, especially. Even when I'm in a calm space - in the sunshine, surrounded by mountains and trees and flowers, I can be blind to my surroundings, only living inside my head.

I wish I could be totally dispassionate about this process. And have a positive outlook about my future.

Monday, May 23, 2011

Anne Goes to Church

I really don't know if I am in the right town. There is so much natural beauty in this area - the mountains, Lake Tahoe, etc. But it is all so spread out. The town of Reno is kinda depressing. Or maybe it just seems that way to me because I have yet to find my place.

Stop the presses: I started attending the local Center for Spiritual Living church. I am not a regular church-goer. Ask anybody who knows me. I went to Seattle's CSL several times, though, to see my sister, Lisa sing. And, I always felt the message was OK. They are a non-denominational congregation that honors everyone's path to God. I like that idea. I have found that the sermons in both Seattle and Reno seem almost like therapy. Last Sunday, for example, the Reverend Liesa talked about self respect. That topic hit home for me. I like the music in the services, for the most part. And, some of the songs are familiar to me. I'm trying to find a community of like-minded people. The church offers twice-weekly t'ai chi sessions and has a once-a-month "vibrational healing with sacred gong" event.

But...I am not a "joiner". To me, spirituality is a personal thing. I have never felt comfortable talking to people about God. I have written about it a couple of times in this blog but for the most part, I keep it to myself. I am not a misanthrope. I like people. I like hearing their stories. I can understand people's need for community. Being part of a larger whole gives one a sense of place. I'm still sorting this out, obviously

Monday, May 16, 2011

I Gotta Ask - Why Did You Move to Reno?

Yes, those were the first words the job counselor at the Nevada State job center said to me this afternoon. That sure doesn't give me much confidence.

After waiting nearly three hours for my intake interview into the Nevada "system", I was immediately told how bad the employment outlook is here. The next thing the guy said to me was "You graduated Magna Cum Laude? There's not much we can do for you here." Just what I wanted to hear. After a few very constructive critiques about my resume, I found out that my job counselor is retiring in 3 weeks. I think he mentally left the job in April. Because then, he started talking....and talking....and talking some more. I found out that he had one of the original gas lamps from the dining car on The Oriental Express. He had ridden the train three or four times and he got it as a gift from a porter. He was born in Greece and has traveled all over the world. His sister actually owns a patent on a genetically modified species of crab that is resistant to toxins in the Chesapeake Bay. I learned that this man can repair watches and then he showed me a silver ring he crafted. When he was a teenager, he traveled aboard the "Haunted" Queen Mary cruise ship and when I asked him if it was, indeed, haunted he told me about hearing the cries of a little girl near the ship's empty swimming pool. A couple of hours later, I found out that he has college degrees in biology and geology and a master's degree in education. The guy passed on his philosophy of living for today instead of dreaming of retirement. He was not shy when he complained about elderly couples who save their whole lives to buy a fancy motor home and cruise the country once they have rid themselves of their careers.

Did he ask me about my last job? Did I get a chance to explain to him why I loved producing Coast so much? Did he even bother to ask me why I was fired from 2 jobs in 2 months? NO. He could not have cared less, it seemed. Yet, he LOVED talking to me. He said what a pleasure it was to have an intelligent person sit in the chair next to his desk. I found out that he is 67 years old, single and lives with a dog. He pulled out his new Droid telephone and showed me how to scan a bar code and do comparison shopping - yes, they have an "app" for that. He also taught me how to encrypt my voice on his phone so that the CIA can't listen in on my calls. I learned about his visit to a monastery in Greece where he once held a scroll from St. John the Baptist in his hands. He described his trips to catacombs and funerarys in Rome.

He did ask me how much I got paid on my last 3 jobs. And then, he told me to expect at least $5 less an hour, here. And, oh yes, I can expect to pay close to the same amount for rent as I did in Seattle.

After my nearly five-hour stay in that office, I was exhausted, hungry and thirsty, so I went downstairs to the grocery store to get some beans and rice for lunch. That's where I encountered the former accountant who is now a deli-clerk. I mentioned that I had been up at the job center. She shared (to the point of exhaustion) that she has been unable to find work in her field for several years. She detailed how she was downsized at her government-run dream job and asked to work only an 18-hour week. She finally found another job but was micromanaged to tears within 2 days and quit. And now, she has become a barista and cashier.

Everybody has a story and it seems everybody is dying to tell it to me. Maybe it is not just me. Maybe people are desperate for a sympathetic ear because times are so tough. I figure these folks have been put in my path for some reason. I'm just not sure what that reason is.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

It is Official

I've made it official. I have alerted the post office of my address change. I am begrudgingly becoming a Nevada resident (for now, at any rate). I have found a lot of scenic beauty here in Reno. A different kind of beauty. Drier - much drier. I have also found a hell of a lot of strip malls. Seems the best way to navigate around these parts is to 'turn right at the Target' or 'go straight past the Win-Co and then you'll see it on your left'. Perhaps it is that way in most areas. Maybe once I familiarize myself with this town I'll see more than the casinos and big box stores. I can be an elitist, I guess. The Sierra Nevada's are beautiful and Lake Tahoe took my breath away. I'll focus on that.

I have applied for about 20 jobs, most of them online. So far not even a nibble. I have only met a few people since I've been here - part of the problem was that I threw out my back and barely left the house for about 3 weeks. When Steve signed me up for Match.com, I thought I might meet an acquaintance, at least, to help show me the ropes. Nope - didn't find a single "real" man there. Only Nigerian scammers. Sorry he wasted his money. I appreciate the sentiment behind his gift, however.

Haven't heard a peep out of my friend, Verna. But, I'm not surprised. I have never met anyone else who has as many jobs and works as hard as she does. Seven days a week she is a fitness instructor, personal trainer, community-college instructor and Pier One clerk and cashier. She needs all of those jobs in order to make her house payment and eat. And, oh yes, she's taking 2 college courses to complete her exercise physiologist certification. I saw that she was leading a fitness hike in Virginia City last weekend. Her objective is to make people have so much fun, they forget that they are working out. Great idea.

I have walked through 6 or 7 casinos in town. You know what job I want? Carpet designer for casinos. Have you ever looked at that stuff? Amazing array of colors and shapes and flowers. Wonder what kind of psychological research goes into floor covering decisions? Perhaps its purpose is to not only hide stains but elevate the mood of patrons, so that they feel 'lucky' and pump more dollars into the slot machines.

The casinos have been pretty empty, though, when I've strolled through. Maybe it is because I usually walk through during the afternoon. But, I bet business is way down from a few years ago. The cocktail waitresses I've seen look like the most senior members of the staff. They have been teetering on those 3 inch heels for many, many years and make it look easy. They still have smiles on their tired faces, though.

Never in all of my days did I think I'd wind up in this town. Perhaps the ghost of my father had something to do with it?