This is my granddaughter Juliet singing "Baby Baluga"...I THOUGHT I was getting the video on the sly until she popped up and asked to see it. Aren't cell phones cool nowadays? Oh yeah...that's my finger in the way of the video.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
The Shiney Red Van
This has been a crummy day. It's cold. It's raining. The walls are closing in on me. I decided to go to the store and get some soda since I was out of it. Every nut-case driver in Salem - and there are many - was on the road. My mind was wandering all over the place when I had a flash of memory from well over 20 years ago.
I was driving home from work on the freeway in Beaverton. At the time we had two cars, a Mercury Zephyr and a big Chevy van. This particular time I was driving the van. Traffic was horrible. I saw ahead a car stopped along the road. There were 6 small children all about the same age and a frazzled looking mother standing outside the car. I decided to stop. It turned out that the son of the woman was having his fifth birthday and these were his friends. They were on their way to a popular birthday place when her car died. I must have looked honest, or else she was beyond frazzled because she bundled all the children into my van. She had a relative who lived nearby and I took them there and then went on my way home.
The next day I was driving the Mercury home and I noticed what appeared to be the same car, in the same spot. This time there was a man in it and the car was clearly idling. I remember thinking "what are the odds..." but I continued on home. I drove the Mercury for several more days. Towards the end of the week I decided to take the van again. As I climbed up into the driver's seat, something on the floor in the back caught my attention. I was thinking "what in the world?" when I remembered my rescue mission a few days before. The woman, in her frazzled state had left her purse in my van! I quickly picked it up and began to search for some I.D. so I could call her and tell her I found it. When I opened the purse I saw an open eve lope filled with some cash and a large pile of checks. All the checks were made out to the same place of business so I realized this was the days receipts for them and she must have been planning to make a (large) deposit. Yikes!
I found a phone number and called her. When I identified myself she told me "Oh, I just KNEW you'd call! Anyone who would pick up six kids HAD to be a good person! I was never worried a bit..." It turned out the car I saw idling along the road the day after the rescue was her husband, hoping to spot the red and silver van. She said he was sure the money was gone forever. I returned her purse to the relatives house where I had left the children a few days before. I also left my name and address on a card in it. I wanted to assure her husband I was on the up-and-up, also if anything turned up 'missing' they would have a name to go along with my face and van.
A few days later I received a huge floral arrangement as a thank you. It was unnecessary, but a very nice gesture anyway.
As I thought about this old memory, I felt good about the way it all turned out. I never saw the people again, but I knew I had done all I could in that situation. As I drove along the present-day road in Salem, I smiled. Then some jerk zipped around me and cut me off. I offered a gesture for his inspection. That was all I could do today, too.
I was driving home from work on the freeway in Beaverton. At the time we had two cars, a Mercury Zephyr and a big Chevy van. This particular time I was driving the van. Traffic was horrible. I saw ahead a car stopped along the road. There were 6 small children all about the same age and a frazzled looking mother standing outside the car. I decided to stop. It turned out that the son of the woman was having his fifth birthday and these were his friends. They were on their way to a popular birthday place when her car died. I must have looked honest, or else she was beyond frazzled because she bundled all the children into my van. She had a relative who lived nearby and I took them there and then went on my way home.
The next day I was driving the Mercury home and I noticed what appeared to be the same car, in the same spot. This time there was a man in it and the car was clearly idling. I remember thinking "what are the odds..." but I continued on home. I drove the Mercury for several more days. Towards the end of the week I decided to take the van again. As I climbed up into the driver's seat, something on the floor in the back caught my attention. I was thinking "what in the world?" when I remembered my rescue mission a few days before. The woman, in her frazzled state had left her purse in my van! I quickly picked it up and began to search for some I.D. so I could call her and tell her I found it. When I opened the purse I saw an open eve lope filled with some cash and a large pile of checks. All the checks were made out to the same place of business so I realized this was the days receipts for them and she must have been planning to make a (large) deposit. Yikes!
I found a phone number and called her. When I identified myself she told me "Oh, I just KNEW you'd call! Anyone who would pick up six kids HAD to be a good person! I was never worried a bit..." It turned out the car I saw idling along the road the day after the rescue was her husband, hoping to spot the red and silver van. She said he was sure the money was gone forever. I returned her purse to the relatives house where I had left the children a few days before. I also left my name and address on a card in it. I wanted to assure her husband I was on the up-and-up, also if anything turned up 'missing' they would have a name to go along with my face and van.
A few days later I received a huge floral arrangement as a thank you. It was unnecessary, but a very nice gesture anyway.
As I thought about this old memory, I felt good about the way it all turned out. I never saw the people again, but I knew I had done all I could in that situation. As I drove along the present-day road in Salem, I smiled. Then some jerk zipped around me and cut me off. I offered a gesture for his inspection. That was all I could do today, too.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Be the first in your neighborhood...
I always thought of my dad as an inventor of sorts. We were the only family in the neighborhood with an automatic garage door opener. Now keep in mind this was the 1950's...long before they became as commonplace at home as a stove or any other appliance. What an amazing device it was.
A long pipe jutted out horizontally from the garage with a rope hanging from it. The distance from the garage door gained by the pipe allowed the driver of the car to simply reach out of the car window and pull the rope while remaining in the vehicle. The rope snaked through a carefully placed hole in the garage wall to a system of pulleys. From there the rope attached to counter weights hung to balance the weight of the doors. With more hardware, a rope was attached to each side of the garage door. A simple pull of the single rope outside the door by the driver would allow it magically (or so it appeared to a small child) open from the center. You could then pull the car right in.
Dad often puttered and would come up with some way to to get around a problem or make a job easier. He built an amazing set of wheel lifts to help level his RV later in his life. They were built of wood and almost crescent-shaped.(if you cut a crescent off at the thickest point). He could put one under a low wheel and drive forward on it. As the motor home moved forward several inches, it would be lifted up.
I was on my own this weekend at the beach house and spent a lot of time puttering around and fixing little things. I came up with a few inventive ways and was proud of what I did. It reminded me of my dad and the way he liked to putter. Like father like daughter I guess.
A long pipe jutted out horizontally from the garage with a rope hanging from it. The distance from the garage door gained by the pipe allowed the driver of the car to simply reach out of the car window and pull the rope while remaining in the vehicle. The rope snaked through a carefully placed hole in the garage wall to a system of pulleys. From there the rope attached to counter weights hung to balance the weight of the doors. With more hardware, a rope was attached to each side of the garage door. A simple pull of the single rope outside the door by the driver would allow it magically (or so it appeared to a small child) open from the center. You could then pull the car right in.
Dad often puttered and would come up with some way to to get around a problem or make a job easier. He built an amazing set of wheel lifts to help level his RV later in his life. They were built of wood and almost crescent-shaped.(if you cut a crescent off at the thickest point). He could put one under a low wheel and drive forward on it. As the motor home moved forward several inches, it would be lifted up.
I was on my own this weekend at the beach house and spent a lot of time puttering around and fixing little things. I came up with a few inventive ways and was proud of what I did. It reminded me of my dad and the way he liked to putter. Like father like daughter I guess.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Comfort
My brother Jim and my niece Tammy have both been encouraging me to write again. I guess it has been awhile. It's amazing how time flies. I was going to write something profound there, but I couldn't think of anything better. Time does fly when you have a project going or work deadlines, or in my case - anticipating the next challenge Dora the Explorer will face THIS week and whether or not Boots her sidekick (and a monkey) will be able to help or be a hindrance. Yes - Dora the Explorer is a cartoon character I acknowledge this, but I've grown accustomed to the formula used to teach small children basic concepts on this TV show and I find comfort in it.
Shifting gears...
I began a watercolor painting class two weeks ago. I've taken one other class about 6 years ago and enjoyed it, but other things took precedence and I allowed my paints to collect dust. It's been surprisingly fun to get them out again. I don't paint well at all, but I enjoy the process. There are rules and steps to follow. The subject changes with each new sheet of paper but the basic process remains the same. There's a relaxing quality about the sameness of it while you work. Then suddenly the steps stop and you are required to use your own creativity. It's rather like a long drive. If things go along as they should. You follow the rules and move along the road at a good clip until the dumb guy in the other car cuts you off and you have to fight for control, or a deer runs across the road and you run into a ditch and ruin your car. (Yes, I'm also known as Little Mary Sunshine...) I do seem to be getting far away from my train of thought here.
Anyway...
I believe my point here (somewhere) is about the comfort you find in sameness. In routine. In following the rules (traffic rules don't count-let's not get crazy here).
I'll try harder next time to come up with a better subject.
:)
Shifting gears...
I began a watercolor painting class two weeks ago. I've taken one other class about 6 years ago and enjoyed it, but other things took precedence and I allowed my paints to collect dust. It's been surprisingly fun to get them out again. I don't paint well at all, but I enjoy the process. There are rules and steps to follow. The subject changes with each new sheet of paper but the basic process remains the same. There's a relaxing quality about the sameness of it while you work. Then suddenly the steps stop and you are required to use your own creativity. It's rather like a long drive. If things go along as they should. You follow the rules and move along the road at a good clip until the dumb guy in the other car cuts you off and you have to fight for control, or a deer runs across the road and you run into a ditch and ruin your car. (Yes, I'm also known as Little Mary Sunshine...) I do seem to be getting far away from my train of thought here.
Anyway...
I believe my point here (somewhere) is about the comfort you find in sameness. In routine. In following the rules (traffic rules don't count-let's not get crazy here).
I'll try harder next time to come up with a better subject.
:)
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Service
I came across a letter I received in 1984 from my mother's cancer doctor. I had written him shortly after her death and demanded some answers about her care and treatment. In retrospect I can see that I was still trying to reconcile the facts of her death with the experience that we'd had - to make some sense of it all. The letter transported me back 25 years to probably the toughest experience of my life. One small event stands out. I feel like there is more meaning to it than I can see even now.
My mom liked and respected her doctors. It seemed like a small core of doctors and nurses were with her 24/7. They rarely slept or took time off. She felt like she was under the best care she could be, and I agree with that. It had become clear to all of us that she was dying. I recall this moment as a profound and deeply meaningful one. We were standing around her bed - her doctor, my aunt and some of my brothers. We had just had a conversation regarding another possible treatment so we were all deep in our own thoughts having exhausted the conversation. Mom's doctor looked tired and worn. Suddenly, she spoke to him quietly and said simply "Your glasses are dirty. Give them to me." He pulled them off and handed them to her. She quietly cleaned and polished them while we silently watched her provide this personal, almost intimate service for him. There was no sound except for the nearly imperceptible rustle of cloth on glass. She took her time and made the glasses shine. Then she handed them back to him. He murmured a small 'thank you' and left the room.
By this time, she had to depend on others for everything in her life. Personal hygiene and being fed nourishment. She could no longer get out of bed. It had all come to this point so quickly - from a tough, perky little woman to an invalid. She still managed to find one small thing she could do for someone else. It was an iconic moment for me. I doubt that I've been able to do it justice in the retelling.
My mom liked and respected her doctors. It seemed like a small core of doctors and nurses were with her 24/7. They rarely slept or took time off. She felt like she was under the best care she could be, and I agree with that. It had become clear to all of us that she was dying. I recall this moment as a profound and deeply meaningful one. We were standing around her bed - her doctor, my aunt and some of my brothers. We had just had a conversation regarding another possible treatment so we were all deep in our own thoughts having exhausted the conversation. Mom's doctor looked tired and worn. Suddenly, she spoke to him quietly and said simply "Your glasses are dirty. Give them to me." He pulled them off and handed them to her. She quietly cleaned and polished them while we silently watched her provide this personal, almost intimate service for him. There was no sound except for the nearly imperceptible rustle of cloth on glass. She took her time and made the glasses shine. Then she handed them back to him. He murmured a small 'thank you' and left the room.
By this time, she had to depend on others for everything in her life. Personal hygiene and being fed nourishment. She could no longer get out of bed. It had all come to this point so quickly - from a tough, perky little woman to an invalid. She still managed to find one small thing she could do for someone else. It was an iconic moment for me. I doubt that I've been able to do it justice in the retelling.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Its been a really quiet couple of weeks. So quiet in fact I've begun talking to myself just to hear the noise. I have the babies a few days a week, but not every day because of a change in Kevin's schedule. I miss seeing them each day. We have been trying to come up with some plans for activites to get us out of the house...its not easy in our wet Pacific Northwest.
I have been working on my geneology again which has been fun. I found one line back to 1239. It makes me a little wary though...because all it would take was to find one person with the same name and dates as your ancestor and your whole line is off.
I'll come up with a better post....later.
I have been working on my geneology again which has been fun. I found one line back to 1239. It makes me a little wary though...because all it would take was to find one person with the same name and dates as your ancestor and your whole line is off.
I'll come up with a better post....later.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
that guy's a jerk...
I was sitting in the parking lot at McDonalds today eating a salad after my workout. I often sit there and munch and watch people go by. For some reason this is a particularly busy lot. Maybe its because of the Quizno's or the Dollar Store.
Anyway...
I watch watching this lovely old couple who had purchased an entire shopping basket of goodies at the Dollar Store. I'm not sure what it all was - but there was a lot of it. They were working hard at putting their purchases into their car and moving slowly like older people tend to do. Their basket was at the side of the car taking up space in the space next to them, but it didn't seem to be a problem because there were other spaces in the lot nearby.
Into the lot came a big old Cadillac. Big. Like a boat. You remember those. It looked like the kind of car a guy would pick up off the lot for $150 and drive it until it wouldn't drive anymore. Or one that his great aunt had in her garage and he got after she died. It was dirty and rusting. The area behind the steering wheel was completely filled by a big hulking man with a baseball hat and a long beard. He looked as if he had had a life filled with bars and brawls. He decided he wanted the spot next to the lovely old couple to park his boat..er...vehicle.
He edge his car close to the spot and honked his horn. The elderly gentleman gave him a cheery wave and held up a finger signifying 'one minute' and continued to fill the car. He was moving as fast as he could to accommodate the other fellow. I noticed again the other open spots, just a car width away. In fact there were two open spots together. If the fellow took one of those spots he would only have to walk an extra 15 feet. By the size of him, that would be about 3 steps.
He continued to wait and tap his horn from time to time trying to hurry up the old gentleman. As soon as the cart was emptied, the lady moved it and left to walk it back to the store. The old gentleman made a grand sweeping gesture with his hand as if you say to the hulk "its all yours' and did it with a big smile on his face as he stepped out of the way. I also notice he held his cane a little lower on the shaft instead of the top...almost like a weapon.
I stopped munching. I watched as the hulk unfolded himself from the car and began to say something to the old guy about people having to wait. I put my hand on my door latch to open my door. I was going to get out of my car to intervene. I'm not sure what I would have done, but I wasn't going to let what appeared to be happening continue. The hulk made a rude gesture to the old fellow and lumbered off. I was stunned, but relieved. I watched the old gentleman watch him leave. He had a look of defiance on his face but also fear. He relaxed a little as he moved his hand from the shaft of his cane to the top and put it on the ground to steady himself. His wife reappeared and they both got into the car and left.
I can only imagine the conversation that took place in the old couple's car after the incident. I would also imagine that they will both be upset the rest of the day.
I know I'm thinking about it.
Anyway...
I watch watching this lovely old couple who had purchased an entire shopping basket of goodies at the Dollar Store. I'm not sure what it all was - but there was a lot of it. They were working hard at putting their purchases into their car and moving slowly like older people tend to do. Their basket was at the side of the car taking up space in the space next to them, but it didn't seem to be a problem because there were other spaces in the lot nearby.
Into the lot came a big old Cadillac. Big. Like a boat. You remember those. It looked like the kind of car a guy would pick up off the lot for $150 and drive it until it wouldn't drive anymore. Or one that his great aunt had in her garage and he got after she died. It was dirty and rusting. The area behind the steering wheel was completely filled by a big hulking man with a baseball hat and a long beard. He looked as if he had had a life filled with bars and brawls. He decided he wanted the spot next to the lovely old couple to park his boat..er...vehicle.
He edge his car close to the spot and honked his horn. The elderly gentleman gave him a cheery wave and held up a finger signifying 'one minute' and continued to fill the car. He was moving as fast as he could to accommodate the other fellow. I noticed again the other open spots, just a car width away. In fact there were two open spots together. If the fellow took one of those spots he would only have to walk an extra 15 feet. By the size of him, that would be about 3 steps.
He continued to wait and tap his horn from time to time trying to hurry up the old gentleman. As soon as the cart was emptied, the lady moved it and left to walk it back to the store. The old gentleman made a grand sweeping gesture with his hand as if you say to the hulk "its all yours' and did it with a big smile on his face as he stepped out of the way. I also notice he held his cane a little lower on the shaft instead of the top...almost like a weapon.
I stopped munching. I watched as the hulk unfolded himself from the car and began to say something to the old guy about people having to wait. I put my hand on my door latch to open my door. I was going to get out of my car to intervene. I'm not sure what I would have done, but I wasn't going to let what appeared to be happening continue. The hulk made a rude gesture to the old fellow and lumbered off. I was stunned, but relieved. I watched the old gentleman watch him leave. He had a look of defiance on his face but also fear. He relaxed a little as he moved his hand from the shaft of his cane to the top and put it on the ground to steady himself. His wife reappeared and they both got into the car and left.
I can only imagine the conversation that took place in the old couple's car after the incident. I would also imagine that they will both be upset the rest of the day.
I know I'm thinking about it.
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