Dear Cabelas: Today you sold a gun.

Dear Cabelas,

Today you sold my husband a gun.  You had handguns on sale and one was within the price range that the person I am married to could finally afford.  It’ s not a fancy gun, but a weapon nonetheless.

He has been watching ads and looking in the paper, but as you are aware, prices of personal handguns have gone through the ceiling as fearful small minded people are sure that these personal weapons will soon be unavailable.  Foolish people.  As the manufacturers of guns and ammunition pump these out, making their millions, billions,  and retailers like you are getting their piece of the financial pie, men and women are stockpiling their personal arsenals.

Of course he had to wait to have a background check done.  He didn’t have to come home and go back to your store, this check would only take an hour and a half.  Ninety minutes, less than a good movie would take to watch. He wouldn’t have time to reconsider while waiting.   He had his carry permit.  That was easy.  Convince three people who were not relatives to sign a paper and turn it into the local sheriff for a background check.

So he came home with a gun which he knew I would disapprove of, and not affordable for us right now.  There was no discussion, he just walked in, and bought a gun and three boxes of bullets, from your store.

So what does that ninety minute background check tell you about this increasingly unstable man I still live with.?

No jail time, check.   No arrests, check.  Verification he was who his ID said he was?  Check.  Addresses, and employment status.?  Check.

Did it tell you about his experience or lack of knowledge of firearms?   No.  When the last time it was that he used a gun?   No.   Did it ask about his physical health or if he had any chronic diseases which might affect his judgement?

Your company just sold a gun to a man who if diagnosed might be considered pre bipolar.  it runs in his family.  Your company just sold a gun to a man who has no restraint to his anger, has a trigger temper.  Any disagreement can set it off.  It can be as common  as requesting whether the bills can be paid this month.  It can be a disagreement on how to stem the pets from sparring with each other.  A comment about driving left of center or using a blinker can bring on this ugly part of his being.  The temper has flared for years.  It has no off button, no safety switch.  You sold this person a gun.

Was there a question on the background check on whether you get along with your neighbors?   Was there a question about whether you are a person who has integrity and follows the rules?

You sold a man a gun who is in such a feud with neighbors that it has cost us over three thousand dollars we didn’t have in lawyer and land survey costs.   Another neighbor earns a moniker that would be considered one of the crudest terms directed at a woman.   There will never be peace.  You sold him a gun.

Did you ask if he retained employees with his business?  Or did his temper and lack of integrity and trying to get work for less than what it is worth cause most folks to fold up and leave.  Did the form ask if he cheated or treated his children fairly?  Did the form ask if he was as greedy as some born with a silver spoon in their mouth, and would go to all lengths necessary to get what he thought he deserved?   Did the background check ask anything revealing at all?

Today you sold my husband a gun.  A man who should never own a gun.  A man who acts first and sometimes thinks later.  Sometimes.  A man who believes that the world is out to get him, and cause him financial hardship.  A man who has borrowed and begged money from family and relatives and then goes out to buy a totally unnecessary item instead of paying a bill.  A man who while arguing with his brother has been enraged to a point that he considers his once close sibling to be dead in his eyes.  Today you sold this man a gun.

Did the background check ask about his financial situation?   Did it show several bankrupticies in his history?   Did it have a list of the women in his past?   Did it show how a home his aunt and uncle left him was lost after he borrowed money against it which was never paid back?

Today you sold a gun.  You sold a man a gun with an ego as big as the Goodyear blimp who is going through a delayed midlife crisis, who has no true friends anymore, because he screwed them all over too many times.

Today you sold this man a gun.

How many men have bought a gun who by a misstep, a beer too many, a disagreement on the highway make tomorrow’s front page headlines?

Today you sold this man a gun and in ninety minutes deemed him acceptable to own one.

Today I wrote my will.

Trolls, bullies, and Armchair experts

I am entering the fray against the lack of civility I note every time I view comments on articles, blogs, or statements online.  It has become a battle to express an opinion without a negative, nasty, reply or comment following like a trail of ants after spilled sugar.

Whether it be a political commentary,  an article on a crime, or animal abuse exposed, we now brace ourselves to the downright mean and ignorant rhetoric that follows.  The armchair experts, even argue amongst themselves, often losing the entire meaning of the article that started the onslaught of words that they wouldn’t use face to face.

Some of these  computer combatants are referred to as trolls, as they emerge from under a bridge, looking for prompts to throw in their often foolish anti anything rants.  Sometimes they are “friends” and sometimes they are just a person, who instead of expressing their opinions in a rational and informed manner, blow up the feed with misinformation fed to them from a variety of sources.  There was a time when it was thought that these folks, were actually paid by those who wanted to spread their propaganda.  I can’t say that paid “trolls” were a reality, but the fact that they might not be is a scary though,  as it meant the authors of the rants were doing it just because they could.

If there is any doubt that this is occurring on a regular basis, just take a look after any article you might read online.   From a book review to a story about a dog being rescued to the latest hate crime being exposed, they wait to comment, often not reading more than the headlines or the first paragraph.   Their attitude exudes from their comments, and name calling. It would be referred to as bullying if done in public.   Even bullying topics bring out the worst of the population.

I am not so naive to believe that everyone is going to agree on everything.  There is something we used to called civil discourse where opinions were shared and accepted for consideration.  When, however, on our daily news feeds, we see adults behaving like spoiled little brats, whether they are politicians, celebrities, or “experts” is it any wonder that some in our  population online feel it is perfectly okay to bully their way through a comment thread.

Well, it is not okay to bully.  Period.  I have friends who remove those  who cannot behave as they strive to overtake a thread with increasingly vicious words.  You can almost picture in your mind, the furious tapping of the keyboard, the screen lighting up the snarling face, as the keys are pounded into submission.  The name calling is juvenile and in fact I know youth who wouldn’t resort to the disgusting levels some so called adults fall to.

If this was an isolated incident, only noted on a hot topic of the day, it might be ignored by a sad shake of the head.  This trolling and bullying online is happening every day.  In comments online and after op-ed pieces, and letters to the editor.  Some use their names, others a non de plume.   Lies and misinformation fill the comment boxes,  over and over again.

I am weary of adults not acting like adults.  I am weary of non substantiated “truths” after literally every topic.  I want civil discussion.  Civil.  I want to understand another’s opinion by seeing a citation where they got the information that formed their opinions.  I am embarrassed for the human race, who rant before their fingers hit the keys.    Who toss their hate, without cause, in a litany of misspelled words, sometimes all in CAPS, because they disagree with something that they read.

We don’t live in a perfect world and there will always be disagreements on a variety of things.  It would be boring if we all agreed on everything.  To move forward as a human race, people need to regain their civility.  This happens first at home.  Do you know your neighbors?  Or do you just form an opinion by the kind of car they drive or dog they walk?  We live in neighborhoods where people drive into the garage and go into the house, never to be seen until the next day.  Some people would find it impossible to contact a neighbor to borrow a cup of sugar, or have them pick up mail while they are gone for a few days.

Even in neighborhoods where the people do interact there are topics best left for other times than the annual block party or barbecue.  Because people are losing the ability to carry on a civil discussion on anything.  Anything.

This inability to discuss conflicting opinions  intelligently in person, carries over to the online comment forums.   The anonymous nature of the internet allows the ugly to flow unchecked.  Civility leaves, and the negative begins.

I sometimes would offer  an different side to a comment and move on.  I had no patience for the negative, and would just click to the next article or comment.  This country is in trouble, though and it’s getting worse by the day.  When powerful people go out of their way to spread the untruths, why should we expect everyday  Dicks and Janes to do so?

Well, I am now making a plea to bring back civility online, in a car or on the street.  To regain control of ourselves and act like the decent human beings most of us were brought up to be.  If we don’t take a stand, what kind of world do we leave future generations?

As citizens of this planet with a myriad of issues that need to be resolved, we must demand civility of our leaders, of our co workers, of our neighbors and of ourselves.

It’s Raining , It’s Pouring

Today was the perfect example that our weather is changing.  In fact the past week was the proverbial poster child for climate change, not only here in the Northeast but all over the USA.

When we were children the occasional rainy day was an inconvenience but never stopped us from playing outside.  We did porch games, jacks, cards, step games, as the summer rain refreshed the air and cleaned up the sidewalks, we stayed busy.

As older children we often played in the rain, enjoying the soft and sometimes not so soft drops falling from the skies, creating puddles and erasing the hopscotch games chalked on the cement outside our homes.  It was the relief from the heat of the day, greening up the yard, and nourishing the shrubs and the trees lining the streets.

Our parents did not believe that getting wet would make us ill, just damp.  So we played outside rain or shine.

My daughters did the same.  I bought the rain coats, and rubber boots and rain did not deter them from being outside, when the spring and summer rains came.  We may have had a thunderstorm or two, sometimes with hail, which kept us all inside, but they were usually predictable and short lived.  To this day one of my daughters loves the rainy weather, preferably cooler rainy weather.   It was a few days when they were young that I first noticed a change.  A sunny summer day, clear skies and I kept them inside until almost dusk.  I walked to our mailbox and noted the the sun “felt wrong”.  Unease filled my heart.  As I walked back down the driveway, I looked around as though I expected to see an alien craft.  The sun felt dangerous.  That day we had an indoor picnic, and indoor games, until the sun was setting and then we emerged.  Let me add that I am not a paranoid parent.  Never was.  I do have reliable sixth sense about things, and this was a wrong day.

Several years now,  parts of the country that could count on a normal amount of rain for their area have been dry to the point of water rationing.  Brown yards, and wildfires have been a  plague on their little part of heaven on earth.   Even places that are notoriously cloudy and damp much of the year are having a dry season.  Drought warnings, and fires scar the countryside.

Other areas of the country are seeing copious amounts of rain fall from the skies, more than the norm, causing flooding and crop damage.  High temps have accompanied these daily rains, which equate with higher use of power.

Today in my little corner of PA, we had extreme weather for June.  Day long thunderstorm warnings , cool temps and alerts going off on my phone and the television all day.    Even a tornado siting which would not be unusual in August, but in June is certainly out of the norm.  First the screeching sound of the National Weather service alerts…and the ominous voice, listing all the areas in the danger zone and the time to expect the potential high winds and extreme rain.

For hours these alerts disrupted the afternoon and evening, torrential rains caused run offs, mudslides and numerous flooded roads.  The emergency sirens called in the volunteers to the stations as cars slid off the roads, into ditches or hitting trees.  Even I hesitated to go on one last errand, and opted to wait until morning.  I learned to drive in the rain, hard rain, black wet nights, and rain has never deterred me from getting where I had to go.  Except for tonight.

People often scoff about climate change, after all we sometimes have odd weather. Extreme cold snaps, drought conditions, flooding rains. have always been a part of the past, and I will agree that this is true.  The scenario has changed subtly perhaps but change it has.  The storms have become more violent.  The dry spells more severe, and the polar cold more prolonged.   The ice caps are shrinking and entire species are at risk.

I have noted stories about unusual behavior of wildlife, both on land and in the seas.  They say that animals note issues first, long before we humans do.  I believe this to be true.  Their habitat is being threatened through clear cutting, and pollution and extreme weather  conditions.

People tell of encroaching wildlife here in PA.  Still we build, cover the ground with concrete, bring in invasive species, and then are amazed when the family of raccoons make a home under your deck or the bear helps itself to the trash can.

Shark attacks in shallow waters have appeared in the news almost daily.  We ruin the waters with trash and oil spills but seem surprised when the unusual occurs.  Deformed sea creatures, shell fish and oysters unfit to eat.  Water too warm for native species to survive.  Strange wounds and infections defy explanation.

Animals behaving out of the ordinary should be a warning, but so many disregard it and deny the changes around them.  “Conspiracy, or lies,”  they vehemently insist that there is no change, just the normal  occurring.   They believe the propaganda of the mega companies responsible for some of these issues that we are facing.  They look no further than next week, next month, next year.  No regard for what the generations to come will face, the destruction we have wrought and ignored, left for them to find solutions to survive.

Today it rained so hard you couldn’t  see a foot ahead, and it happened more than once.  It’s raining, it’s pouring, and the old man is snoring.  How well will you sleep tonight?

Holidays, Birthdays and the Fourth of July

June is skidding to an end and it has been a crazy month.  Not sad to see it end.  Not this year, and not for the past few years.  Summer isn’t really my happy season.  Some would think this is crazy.  They enjoy the pools, the vacation time, the barbecues, picnics and block parties.  The kids are off school and schedules are amended.  Summertime and the living is easy, or so the song would want us to believe.

When my children were younger I learned quickly that keeping them busy was key to my sanity.  Days upon days of doing nothing, doesn’t have the joy some would believe it would.   So we did summer swim teams.  Yes, teams.  We had practices in the mornings, and meets in the early evening.  Who knew there were so many pools or so many teams.  Of course, parents play a key role in summer teams.  We organize concessions, officiate, help the coaches, and set up a championship.  The other team required traveling.  Some years we could hit three states.   A small breather and then came the school year.   It required great fortitude, but reaped it’s benefits.  I rarely heard about being bored or that there was nothing to do.  I had plenty to do.  But hey it’s summer, and the living is easy.  I still have stores to give my money to, keeping the cars running, laundry and the pesky dinner thing.  Wait, oh and our business.  No different than any other month just hotter, and buggier.  I worked more late nights, when all was quiet, and was grateful I was basically a night owl anyway.

Fast forward a few years.  The daughters were eager to find a summer job, and so they did. Lifeguards, and retail, and lifeguards.  They could help with our newest branch of our business, the ( drum roll please) summer food concession.  It was going to make soooo much extra money we could sail through the winter months.  It was going to be fun, after all who doesn’t like fairs and festivals.  Of course what may seem like a fun endeavor is a whole lotta work.  Of course the girls were not interested, almost embarrassed and opted to continue their summer endeavors.

So I got to order supplies, retrieve supplies, find events, find a helper or two, deal with everything from insurance to fees, to inspections.  Yessiree Bob, I was having a bunch of fun.  Of course summer concessions are dependent on several things to be a success.  Weather, attendees, weather and pricing.  Did I mention weather?

I foolishly wished out loud how I missed the beach day trips we used to make.  Silly me, spent the fourth of July at the beach one year, working a Freedom Fest.  Another fourth was spent at a street fair, another at a military base ( not the best time ..seems not many service folks want to stay on base unless they have to work.. and if they are working, yep, they are not coming to a fair) and every place in between.  I don’t wish  out loud any more.

In between all this fun, we have decided to have a garden.  Mostly tomato plants and recently flowers and shrubs.  Sure they are pretty, but who knew how much work was involved to reap something that I am pretty sure I could get cheaper at a farmers market or roadside stand.   There are sprays to keep animals at bay, sprays to keep plant eating bugs away, sprays to keep disease from ruining all the hard work, all for the love of a tomato from a garden.  Some years we have a bumper crop, and are generous with our neighbors, so much so we just leave bags of our work on their porches, ring the door bell and run.  Other years, we have diseases and odd weather, and the late frost to deal with, as we research the reasons the garden failed to yield.

Let us not forget that this is also the time for the annual Father’s Day barbecue and gifts followed a week later by the father’s birthday.  This may seem like a no brainer, buy an appropriate gift, have a cake, grill steaks or burgers, and sit out under our canopy in a cloud of citronella smoke keeping the bugs away.  But, and this is a big but, this father always manages to buy himself the exact thing on our gift list two weeks before the grand days.   So now gift cards have become the norm,  a cake with the many candles, and maybe everyone will have some time to stop by.   This year, we had takeout Italian.  And so it goes.

I am eyeing the end of month with bated breath.  Three vehicles need their registrations and inspections done in the next two days, and a trip is scheduled five hours away for a daughter’s orientation to Nursing school and hopefully find an apartment where she will spend the next four years.  Furnished partly I am hoping.  I also have two projects that need completed and delivered and after the monsoon rains, the yard will need cut.  At least I won’t have to water anything.

Summertime, and the living is easy.

Catching up

I have the house to myself today.  To be perfectly honest, there are three dogs and two cats sharing the space with me today.  No other humans right now.  I have lists of things I should be doing that I could be doing without interruption.  The lists are stacked neatly on my desk.  I have books to finish reading and books I haven’t begun.   There are videos on the DVR that could be watched and erased.

So very much to catch up on but not one iota of motivation to begin any of the lists.  The satisfaction of crossing a chore off at least one list should be the boost I need today.  Instead I walk to the windows, looking at the clouds floating across the sky.  I really have no excuse to offer.  My get up and go seems to have got up and left today.

My morning paper sits unread, too much bad news for me to consume with my coffee today.   I have mail that needs answered and a trip to the post office that maybe will be done later.  Maybe.

I have student loans to research and apply for,  and schedules to make.

Every so often I have these days, when I plan on catching up.  Instead I wonder how I got so busy, when I wish I was somewhere else.   People watching in my small town, walking along the river, taking a drive to an area I am not familiar with, sans a GPS, just getting lost for a bit and finding my way home.

Everyone else seem so busy, that I should feel guilty.  I don’t.  The minutes, and then hours click by and the lists grow.  I ponder which list will get my attention first.

I could be doing a hobby, for I have a few.  Yarn stock to challenge some small craft stores, and photos that could be framed.   Gardening, or maybe I will try something new.   Tomorrow.

I feel like I need a reboot, a recharge, a different perspective on life in general.  I am not getting any younger.  I wonder how much it would cost to hire a housekeeper, how much more work I would have to do to fit that in my budget.

Maybe I should just call today a wash, do random things, and start fresh tomorrow.  Now that seems like a plan.

Catching up can start tomorrow.  Let me put that on a list.

The State of the Union

Usually I try to keep my blogs light, and mainstream.  Today is not one of those days.  So much is wrong with this country right now.  Just plain wrong.  Citizens have become complacent, perhaps due to the wrong opinion that their one concern or vote won’t make a difference.  The ugly is strong right now and seems overwhelming at times.  It is remarkable that any of us sleep at night.  So we take our sleep aids, and wake up and everything is the same if not worse than the day before.  We drink our coffee, get ready for the day and read the paper or listen to the news on the tube or in the car on our commute.  If you work at home, the bad and ugly creeps across the computer screen.  Head to the store and the headlines from news and magazines assault our sensibilities while we wait to check out.

We walk to our cars, heads down, no interaction.  Someone may give us bad news.  Road rage, hate crimes, animal abuse, rapes and murders fill the news wires.  We get all the news almost as it happens now.  No waiting for the evening news or tomorrows newspaper. Racism, riots, the homeless right here in our country, right in our neighborhoods, in our cities.  Total chaos across the globe adds to our dismay.

Still so many do nothing.  After all what can one person do?  It won’t matter.  So why bother, we have our own issues to deal with.  Incomes don’t match the bills, college graduates saddled with overwhelming debt can’t find jobs, and move back into the family home to regroup.  Wages are stagnant in so many states and jobs at a premium.

This grand country with so much to offer has lost its luster all over the globe.  It becomes embarrassing.  Still we do nothing.  What can one person do?  How can we make a difference.  Big corporations run by the mega rich are destroying our lifestyle, our land and  nature, all in one fell swoop.  Climate change is rearing it’s ugly head and our country and others are paying for it with the advent of super storms, droughts and floods, arctic temps where there were few, and melting where there should be ice and cold.  We tsk, tsk, and go about our business, putting over priced fuel in our cars, figure out how to pay our ever rising utility bills, and just do nothing.  We think well maybe tomorrow, things will be different but we know in that little voice in our heads that after decades of doing nothing, it’s not going to change.  Unless…. unless

Unless we start making some noise.  Not just a little noise, but a lot of noise.  We start in our neighborhoods, get to know and respect our neighbors.  We participate in the change by being involved.  One voice, one at a time.  We vote in our local elections and put people in office who are competent and working for us.   We do this on our county level, our state level, and on the national level. One at a time to start a groundswell, to rebuild what our country used to be not all that long ago.  We make some noise, because we have to do so to get change to occur.  Its all right to be angry and be noisy without being violent.

Our bridges and roads are crumbling, our infrastructure failing and those who should be finding ways to rebuild, people who somehow were elected, are NOT DOING THEIR JOBS.  Could you keep your job if you were producing what they are?  Of course not.  would you keep an employee who was not an asset or promoting and producing?  Of course not.  They are wasting our tax dollars, because so many feel that one vote doesn’t matter.  That one conversation doesn’t matter.  They perpetrate racism openly on an inter -national  stage. while the rest of the world shakes their collective heads.  There is no unity, no forward movement.  We are fighting the  same issues we have fought for years, because of our fear, our reason is because one voice, one vote does not matter.

It has come to the point that like it or not, courage of conviction must come to the foreground.  We must make some noise, we must vote, become involved or we will have nothing left to leave our grandchildren, great grandchildren and their children.   We must raise our voices and demand change.  It can be done without violence.  There is power in numbers.  Our ancestors worked too hard for us to not respect their tenacity  and they work ethics, to do nothing, to say nothing.

The time is now to fight to get our country back.  To let those in power know that we are not going to take it anymore and if they cannot help us, they must step down and let someone in who will.   Many voices make a lot of noise.  Lets get noisy !!

The Class Reunion

June is rushing along as usual.  I am having trouble keeping up it seems.  The month is half over, and still so much to do.

June brings getting the yard in shape.  That means planting, keeping the vegetable garden going, treating the pets for the flea and tick season and the annual class reunion.

I have attended exactly one of my own reunions.  Most of the friends I had in high school I keep in touch with.  So once,  many years ago was enough to satisfy any urgings I may have had to go.  We moved around a lot  in my adolescent years, so many of my early childhood friends I no longer can find, not sure if they would even remember me.   My high school friends I had for three years before we graduated , and left to start our new adult lives.

My other however grew up in the same small town and graduated with the same people he started school with.  We lived in that same small town for several years until we sought greener pastures.  I never looked back.  The husband did and often.   Not sure how many were his good friends, he never really sees the ones I met all those years ago.

He has been going back to his small home town every summer for years now for the class reunion.  Every year there are a few less, due to their early demise, and others who dare to plan their vacations at the same time the whole town celebrates high school.  The town even has a small street festival.   The bars host the different classes,  but it is my understanding that the participants float around.  Planning starts a month before here.  By the way, I never go too.  Years back when we lived in that small town along the Ohio river, I went once.  That was enough.   If I didn’t attend my own why would I go to his.  Now other responsibilities  have my attention.  The daughters are grown,  but the pets and work remain.  I remain here.  I have only been asked  to attend once, and I declined, and I believe he was relieved.   After all he must play the role of the one who left and did well.  I might spoil that image.  We aren’t doing as well as he would have people believe.  I am honest about that, him, not so much.

This summer we are playing catch up from a long cold winter, little work, little attempt at work, and focusing on the wrong things.  No whining, just it is what it is.   But nothing will deter him from his weekend to play with his high school friends.  I actually chuckle about it, that he is so drawn to what he couldn’t wait to leave.

People change, every decade or so, so if you are young and waiting excitedly on your reunion, you will notice several things.   One is that the cliques who would not give you a halfway glance, become your friends.  It is an interesting phenomenon.  That they knew your name was rather amazing.  If you are like my group of friends you will be amused, and gossip about it later.  My school was much larger than most for the time,  yet attendance seemed low.   Maybe we spread around the globe more, making it difficult to come back.  Maybe we didn’t care to come back.  At least some of us.  At least me.

Talking with friends, acquaintances, and strangers.

So if you are wondering about the title of the post today, just set it aside for now.  Eventually it will make sense.

I could tell you that this will be short and sweet,  but it would be untrue, as anyone can tell you, brevity is not my forte.   Whether it’s a phone call with a sister, or a friend or family member, it is never brief.  Unless I am walking out a door or in the car driving, you may as well get a cup of coffee or tea, and find a chair.

I can almost always multitask when I’m on a phone call.  Speaker phones and headsets were invented for me when I am home.  Seriously, if you look at yours closely you may see my initials.    Did you look?  Sorry, just kidding.  Not that there are not times when I wish I had one of the hundred patents that must exist for head phones or an ear piece.    I do not use them when I am out in a store or shopping.  I have responded too many times to another customer in an aisle who is carrying on a conversation with someone else, as they chat away on their phone.

My family would say I know no strangers.  That isn’t exactly true, but closer than I would like to admit.  I grew up learning manners. Hello, how’s your day, I smile at clerks, other customers,  random people in the mall or in a parking lot.   When I am home with customer service at the other end,  or a vendor ordering materials,  I always inquire as to the day they are having, their weather and end with a thank you and  “have great week, or weekend”, whatever is appropriate.  It is polite and believe it or not in this rush here, rush there world, people respond to any kindness that they receive.

Instead of being impatient in a store line, I start conversations.  One time I even took a poll of the ten or so folks waiting behind me on whether they thought e-books were dismantling the brick and mortar book store.   At the time most of them had no clue what an e-book was nor did they have a reader.  Half of those didn’t own a computer, and still paid by check at the teller.  Okay so ten people in a grocery line doesn’t really constitute any kind of scientific theory, but no one was grumbling and I got to prove a point to the bag boy while we were waiting on a manager to answer the little blinking light and fix the register issue.

People just seem to confide in me or tell me random stuff, acquaintances and strangers alike.  When our family moved to a cul-de-sac in NJ, I knew,  after a very short time what everyone did for a living, what their work hours were, their kids names, if they had an au pair or not, and how long they had lived there.  One of my closer neighbors was a private investigator.  He was amazed at what I knew about every family.  After all I was the new mom on the block,  and I already knew more about the other families than he who had lived there five years.  How did I know all these personal things, and my only response was that people told me stuff with very little prompting.  See I know that most folks like to talk about themselves.  I am a listener.  I also remember little bits of important stuff of everyone I meet.  Data that may seem insignificant to others, but mean something to that particular person.  When you remember that the lady at the check out had an ill member of their family in the hospital and inquire as to their family the next time, it touches that little part of their brain/ heart, and a stranger becomes an acquaintance.

While doing some window shopping in a store I frequent rarely, I had a conversation with one of the clerks.  Before I moved to the next department, I knew that she was a retired teacher who had taught at three schools.  She worked because she would go crazy staying home.  She saved her money instead of splurging it, for that rainy day.  She had two children and four grandchildren, two who she saw daily as they lived across the street. She liked flower gardens, and she had a genuine sense of style.  She handled customers well, and while I was there probably thwarted a shoplifter as she offered to put a pair of earrings on  the counter instead of letting the customer take them through the store.  My new acquaintance wasn’t very tech savvy but she had people down to an art form.   Funny thing is when I left her she still had no clue where I lived or who I was.

I speak with people in the produce department, offer my opinion on a baked good, and help reach a shelf that a height challenged customer can’t get to.  As my family would call it, I know no strangers.  I believe it is genetic in nature.  My mother was the same, at least one of my sisters, and recently my oldest daughter offered that she had indeed inherited a form of the “gene”.

There was a time in the not so distant past, before staying in touch was easy, when you had to watch your landline phone bill, that I would write letters, to my friends and my mother. I would choose lovely stationary or just use a notebook and stay in touch writing a letter.  One of my friends gave me a lovely compliment, she said when she received a letter she would wait until she had time to savor the words.  Comfy in her chair, with a cup of tea on her table, she would read my letter.  She said it was like talking with her, because I wrote like I talked.  I was sitting across a kitchen table chatting like in the old days.

Now I don’t want anyone reading this to believe for a minute that I am a Pollyanna, always looking at the bright side, always believing that tomorrow will be a better day.  I am not a half full , half empty thinker, just glad there is anything in the cup.  I rally for the unfortunate, and can give a tongue lashing to the purposely pompous.  But when it is done it all ends the same way.  Have a great week ! After all who doesn’t respond to a smile and a thank you.

m

New, Used, and Craigslist

Cars.   Most of us own one.  A necessity for some.  A luxury for others.  An automobile says a lot about it’s owner.  It can be a trusted family vehicle used to haul sports equipment and kids to soccer fields, basketball courts, anywhere there is a game to play.  These are identified by the ever popular stick people on the back window, or the booster bumper stickers on the tail gate or bumper, and the fingerprints on the side windows.

A car can be used for commuting to work.  Some folks drive an amazingly long distance to earn their weekly paycheck.  These are the cars that are usually nondescript in looks, although that is changing.  Now you see the hybrids, boosting mileage and making that long commute just a little less painful.

For some a car is a status symbol.  Not just for the elite.  The Mercedes and Cadillacs are still the status cars of the wealthy or would be wealthy folks  In competition are the BMW’s and the Audi’s for the trendy status statement.  Teenagers and young adults also consider the car to be a status symbol.  The guys who are gear heads, a term for a car enthusiast in the most mega sense.  They not only drive “cool” cars they work on them, upgrading the engine, the wheels and of course those tail pipes.  They go to swap meets, which are basically a flea market for cars and all things auto.

There was a time when a pick up truck was actually driven almost exclusively by guys who used them for work.  They weren’t so pretty, a ding here, scratch there, but trucks were well priced, and used until they could be driven no longer.  Then they became cool, and the  cooler they became the higher the price went.  Long beds were rarer and the short bed became the norm.  The cabs were almost car like in their extras. Both men and women embraced the truck and all it represented.  Honestly, after a year, they all still drive like a “truck”.  If you have ever owned a truck, you know what I mean. One thing about owning a truck is that you will now have more friends than you ever believed possible.

Then there is the Grandma, Grandpa car.  We have all seen them.  The cars that are about the length of a semi, okay so I exaggerate a bit, but longer than some mini vans.  They are champagne or silver in color,  like the hair of their drivers.  They are almost always made by one of the big American auto companies ( is anything ever truly made in just one country?) and they are tastefully appointed.  They may have a bump or too from pulling into a garage, or hitting  a curb.   These cars ride smooth, take up two parking places and require a really big garage.

Several years ago.. actually almost six years ago there was a little extra in the bank and we needed a new / used vehicle.  We hit all the regular places, ebay, car finder, even craigslist. Since it was my turn to choose the vehicle, I was pushing for a VW bug, preferably a convertible.  I had driven one when I was much younger and just wanted that one last chance to relive my youth, and here is the kicker, I only planned on keeping it for one year.  Then my practical side would kick back in and we could resell it and get a real car.  After weeks of looking and pricing and hunting for the best deal I finally found what I was looking for.  One owner , garage kept, reasonable mileage, convertible with a set of winter tires.  It was well within my price range and only a four hour drive to get it.  I could feel the wheel in my hands, and the road beneath my tires… I was in love.   My youth was restored, I hadn’t been so excited about a car in years.

Then came the phone call.  The call that would stop me from getting the car of my middle aged dreams.   Seems my husband had previously agreed to purchase this older but low mileage Buick owned by a friend’s mother should she want to sell it and buy something smaller that she could park more easily in her garage.  Literally one week before I had my bug, she decided to sell the Buick.  I went to see the car, dragging my feet, hoping against hope that there would be something wrong with this car.  It was in mint condition and for it’s age, it had all the bells and whistles that could have been put on a 2000 Buick.  It was beige, with pinkish undertones, and it was longer than my Pontiac Van.  Low miles, and it screamed  Grandpa car.  As we walked around checking out the car, my husband oohed and ahhhhhed and then I knew.  He would buy this car that he would drive and my bug would be out of reach for a while longer.  He ignored my mumbles, and my frowning face, and the deal was done.

The bug that would have been mine sold for a thousand less than I would have given for this little red beetle.  He was totally unaware of my feeling of loss as he gushed over yet another vehicle that he fit in.  Now he noticed that old folks drove similar cars, that didn’t deter him.  If he said it once he said it a hundred times, what a great deal for this car.  Now if you know anything about big cars in that general era… they were big, but the interior was not as roomy as the newer models.

After a few months he blew up the engine.  We had an after market warranty on it and the beginning of the repairs began.  We got a new engine put in but the car balked at the foreign part that was to power it.  After many trips to the garage, all the kinks were out and the driving began.  Kinks would continue to plague the car, and I continued to drive the van, because , well I was seriously ticked.  The check engine light became common.

Fast forward to the past six months.  The Buick decided to just start stalling and not restarting.  One dealership and four repair shops later, and we still are unable to drive the Big A…Buick, as I liked to call it.   The last shop replaced a part that was okay to start with because it appears that “natural mechanics who diagnose a problem are far and few between.  We were basically at square one after way too much money spent and months wasted.  It sounded like a pan had been put in a dryer with a load.. clanking and banging.  No one knew what was wrong.  No one seemed able to repair it.

Meanwhile the van had been sold, and “my” newer Subaru became the main car to drive.  Because the Buick was not reliable and I had used up the tows for the year.  In fact the last shop told us to list it on Craigslist.  We haven’t even paid completely for the tires on it.  So unless a miracle happens the Big A.. Buick will be sold for parts, or as a whole.  I’ll write off the repairs as a lesson as we just spent half of what the car is worth, even running, which it is not.  So the ad will soon be put for a” needs work ” older buick, with a great detailing job, and new rain shields over the windows.. and some new parts.  Best offer please, a real deal for someone  who likes to tinker with cars.  Have service records.

By the way, I have gotten over my need for a VW and am now on the look out for another  older Subaru.  I have a mechanic for Subarus.

So You Want to Write a Memoir?

I feel fortunate that through social media I have accumulated more than a few new friends who are writers.  Friends who are supporting their households writing for companies, writing books, writing copy for advertisements and writing for local newspapers and magazines.  These folks write on a variety of topics,  from gardens, pets, families, and school.  Some write ebooks, others pen for publishing houses and their books are available in hardback, paper back and of course the ebooks.  Some have degrees in associated fields, some do not.

I am in awe of the dedication they have for their craft, which in turn helps pay those bills that we all face.  Some are teachers who actually teach their students the ins and outs of writing and publishing.  Some write blogs.  Who knew there would be such a market for blogs, and yet it seems to be a viable source of jobs through many avenues.  Yes I am in awe.  To be paid for something that you love to do is what everyone at some point in their lives aspires to do.  We tell our children as they head into the job market to do something that they will be happy doing.  There is nothing worse than spending twenty, thirty or forty years doing something you do not love, or even like.  So many people are in that position every day, every week, every month and every year.

I know that many would say well there has to be the salespeople, the clerks, the secretaries, the road crews, and the list continues.  We all can’t be so lucky to love what our jobs entail.  As long as it pays the bills.

A friend of mine is conducting an online class on writing a memoir. From rough draft to publishing , the student will be helped,  and taught the ins and outs of writing a memoir.  A diary of their lives, exposed for all to see.  My unasked question was, ” what if a life is not the stuff movies are made of, television series showcase, what if that diary of our life was, boring?”

What if you move through a life, never doing anything remarkable, just moving through a crowd, one of a thousand faces?  You go through childhood without doing anything memorable?  You didn’t hit that winning run in little league.  You didn’t make the news with your girl scout troop doing a good deed.  You got up went to school ten months a year for twelve years.   You attend college or head straight to the work force, find a job in a factory, doing the same thing day in day out.   You never get the major promotion.  Retire with a small bonus check and a pension.  No cake, no party, you just finish.  Maybe you were married with the average 2.5 children,  own a small house, and drive an average two year old car.  Can you write a book about your memories, about your life?

So when I was told that I could take the class for free, at first I was excited.  I could take a class, free, maybe learn something new, and after all my friend told me, ” you can be my beta tester.”  Screech, rewind.  A beta tester?     I was too embarrassed to ask exactly what a beta tester was ?  Sure I could have googled the term, done a search, understood, what it meant, but I was embarrassed because I didn’t already know and my pride would not let me ask.

I gave myself a million reasons why I should not write a story of my life.  Boring, yawn.  Not successful, yawn.  Had children, so did so many others.  My memoir would be destined to stay unwritten for I was fearful I would be exposed as having that boring life, that I so never imagined when I started out on my own.

I was going to be an artist.   I was going to explore many mediums,  I was going to travel.  I was not going to be famous but hopefully well known in my community for my art.   Funny thing happened on my way to my dream future.  Money.  That darn little glitch.  You need an income to eat, put a roof over your head, pay the electric and the  water and put gas in the ten year old car you were nursing along.  So you set that dream aside.  Tuck it in that proverbial treasure box of wishes and dreams, to be taken out once in a while and used, and put back away for safe keeping.  You realize that you are boring,

Not memoir worthy.  Perhaps memoirs of our lives would help our children or grandchildren learn a bit more about who we are.   I wish I had asked more questions when I could, dug a little deeper into my families histories.  Always thinking there will be time, until we run out of time.

Perhaps I will change my mind someday, and wish I had taken the class.  Learned something new.  Someday.  Heck someday I may even find out what a beta tester is.