Those were the Days?

 I read an article about a woman being a trad wife or really wishing she had been. She was trying to advance all the time, and eventually, the marriage died and the children grew up and lived elsewhere. (I think trying to advance was always something men did, but not necessarily, women. It's always a surprise ending when you realize you haven't really gone anywhere, and it's time to put your trophies on the shelf.)

But it got me to thinking about the 50's and 60's "illusions" we had, like the milkman would always come before your milk soured, (we didn't have to do that when we moved, as the dairy was right next store.) and marriage was a permanent state.

This was silly even then, as I remember a Christian Science lady living next door, fostering a half native American friend of mine. Her mom had gone through four husbands, who all died. Finally, she did, as she decided her faith would bring her out of illness, but of course, without medical intervention, it didn't. So, ALL the foster children came to the rescue of my friend.

There were a few divorcees. When another friend of mine and I asked a nurse aid at work, about marriage, she said she heard the married couple upstairs, and the wife yelling, "Get out! Out! Out!" (with some thrown objects). So, that was hardly secure.

I so miss large LP records and players and more people dressing nicely instead of wearing torn jeans.

But now that I'm learning how to be a domestic, it's a lot more complicated, like making sure you clip coupons online and claim your points; cleaning, because you notice it's there, etc. The role wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and on top of that, very few women played it, because a lot more worked than I realized.

There was one advantage. My mother calling workers in extra, often got the reply, "my husband won't let me". These days, a supervisor would say, "WHAT?!! Are you a child?"

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Scariest Halloween Ever

 I had gone to the Orthopoedic Administration to get fitted with a mid-calf boot for plantar fasciitus. So, I thought my grocery store adventures would be that this was my first experience riding around on a go cart through the store (due to my, hopefully, temporary foot problem). But instead, it was a clerk screwing up on my credit card that had me waiting and waiting and waiting to be treated fairly. It got to the point where my emoting was about to have me removed from the store, so I said, "Do it then!" I kept calling Bill and having them explain to him all this mess on the speaker phone. Long story short, they figured out a way, finally, to resolve the issue. On the way home, I thought, I'd seen my dad in action a few times, and I wondered if I'd inherited his persistence. I don't have the advantage of being a large 6 foot 2 like he was, with a deep voice. In fact, I was still sitting down. But all's well that ends well, at least, for then.

So, on Halloween, I look out the window and see white. Snow? On Halloween? It appeared to be a day like all days, except it was Halloween...with snow. As usual, I decide to check the internet news, but my computer goes blank. "Uh Oh!" Because it's not just the computer, it's everything. And I'm informed that it wouldn't be so bad, except the heat will be affected.

My friend Wendy wishes me a "Happy Halloween!", and "how are you?" "Not good. The power went out." This starts a long conversation. She begins by offering her house if the power continued to be out. I start packing my overnight bag.

I notice that Bill made two mistakes, briefly opening the refrigerator and insisting we run out to the car to rescue our gran-dog. When we try to get into the car, me wearing my boot with a hole in the front, we get warned by the street plow guy that our travels would be futile, as cars are stuck in the snow all over. So, I insist we call the other grandma, since they're geographically closer to the dog. When we get back to the house, I'm back to packing, while Bill is warning me the temperature is going to drop more.

Then, we proceed to drive around, possibly for a place to eat. My stomach is in knots, so I can't anyway. I'm dropped off on Seminole, so he can find a place to park. I'm still wearing my mid-calf boot and attempting to cross a busy street in the slush. It's time for prayer like, "Oh God, I'm so scared!" which isn't very effective when it comes to focusing on the positive. We thought only the dog would be there, but our daughter is and too fatigued to know what's going on until figuring it out the next day.

So, we go back to the house, because the energy company is still saying power will be back by 11. We find battery lanterns, and four of five actually work. Bill hears conversation while on the porch that gives him hope that the power will return. Instead, the workers leave. So, we get under many covers with clothes and coats on (even hats) and freeze.

The next day, we drive around again, this time, with packed bags. The heat in the car is so fierce, I tell Bill to please turn it down. By this time, even Wendy's power had gone out. Finally, he could think and calls friends who'd had people staying in their basement before.

We're greeted with warm soup. Bill's still checking as to when the power returns. Wendy even has hopes for our location. Later, we enjoy home-made tacos with our friends.

We enjoy our somewhat fitful but warmer night. He complains about my snoring, when I'm merely breathing. So, I'm relieved when I hear him snore, and I drift off to sleep. For a moment, in the morning in the bathroom, I see the lights go out and say, "Uh oh!" Fortunately, it's only out for 15 minutes.

We enjoy bean soup the next day.

Finally, Wendy figures out we'd have our power back, and I say, maybe by 5, though I'm skeptical. But actually, when we check back, the power is restored by 2:15, about the time it went out two days ago.

When I get back, I pick up the grandaughters, telling them the whole story, and dog sit, as originally planned.

In the process, I have acquired a new affinity for cats, as one circled around my head near the end of my taking a nap. Another cuddled up to me, and I was surprised, as I told the cat, "You LIKE me, I didn't know cats liked people!" Another cat sabotaged Bill's bed making by refusing to move. There were a couple dogs there, whom we already enjoy, but my animal appreciation has expanded.

Bill goes to get stuff for us to eat to tied us over, since after the power outage, there's virtually no food in the fridge or freezer. He brings me a can of lasagna, and I start salivating over the garlic toast in the freezer. I keep checking the internet to make sure it's safe. This time, I bought it with no cheese, so it should be. But there's this nagging feeling that maybe the butter sauce might not be okay. Meanwhile, he's insisting I throw it out, and don't take any chances. So, I get some regular wheat bread, butter it, sprinkle garlic powder on it, and put it in the microwave. I succumb to his pressure and throw out the garlic bread. Sniff! 😭

After this long outage, I tell Bill I'm cutting up an onion that survived it, because it's a vegetable that wasn't cut into. He's skeptical. So, he tells me that I'm the tester. I eat some slices first, then, he does. When I mention it later, he says he doesn't remember having any onions. I remind him that I was the tester, and that's so, if I should pass, he can claim my millions. I also tell him that condiments are okay, even after the outage. He says how do you know if something is a condiment? I admit, I don't know for sure.

We lost most of the groceries I'd fought for, and it didn't matter that the refrigerator door had been opened. It had been, not 4, but 48 hours.

Self Esteem Assault Revisited

 Imagine, carrying around someone's criticism for 55 years. This incident was in college in the dorm tower. We had house parents in the persons of a professor and his wife, located near the office. I was seldom there, but happened to be seated on a couch when some other student rolled a large hard ball toward their door. It "clunked", of course. So, the professor came out and glared at whoever it was, not being able to figure it out. Being me, and young, I burst into giggles. His wife declared, "I don't know what you're going to do when you get out in the world, Anita." Well, she didn't know me that well. I think I was rooming on about the 5th floor. And so, having been an impressionable student age, I carried that evaluation around for probably the rest of my life. How did this person who knew very little about me, barring my name, have such prophetic powers to predict my entire future? When I told my cousin about it, she didn't get what the lady meant by "out in the world", since I was obviously not on another planet at the time. It took today to figure out that I may have been mistaken as the "ball culprit", and the statement leveled at me was bull@&/%.

An Ode to Road (Construction)

 Clif Walter Martin inspired a song in me to the tune of the Kingston Trio song about the MTA: (Metropolitan Transit Authority) with credit to them.

"All I wanted to do was to go to Meijer,

to pick up some groceries,

But all I could do was get lost in the detours,

Crying what will become of me?

Chorus: But will I ever return? No, I'll never return,

and my fate is still unlearned,

I will ride forever through the streets of Muskegon,

I'm a gal, who'll never return.

Well, all I did was to take the wrong U-Turn..

And now, it's a quarter past 3.

I'll never afford to see my brother in Stoton,

nor my cousin in Eau Clairee.

Chorus: But will I ever return? No, I'll never return,

and my fate is still unlearned,

I will ride forever through the streets of Muskegon,

I'm a gal, who'll never return.

All night long, I've been following detours,

Neither store nor home, I see.

The only way out of this construction,

is to head for Michigan City.

New chorus.

But will I ever return?

No, I'll never return,

and my fate is still unlearned,

I will drive forever,

Through Michigan City,

through Chicago, and never return!"

(This is what little old ladies at grocery stores are really doing when they seem deep in thought.)

Temper, Temper

 I confess I had an altercation with somebody I didn't even know recently. So, I tried to consult with one of my psychology books, a chapter on anger, trying to clear my head about it. I believe that from time to time, you can find it beneficial to analyze your erroneous thoughts. After I got done with the chapter, I could see things a little more clearly.

 But then, I thought of that loose cannon down in Maralago and wondered if he EVER did any self examination, particularly about anger. Perhaps his niece, Mary, might be able to answer this, but it might be pretty simple, like, no.

Observe, Only More Deeply

 Observation from a take-out line:

First, I spotted a bike,

and I thought, "It's good I'm stopped for awhile, because I could have

run over it."

Second, I noticed a "student" carrying a large back pack on his back, sitting on a curb just in front of the bike, probably eating his take-out. I thought, "I'm glad they're taking awhile, because I might have run over his foot on the way out." Then, I noticed the bike was loaded with trash bags full of stuff.

So, third, I saw him get up, was gray bearded and not a student. And I thought, "I'm glad they're taking their sweet time, because I might have collided into a homeless senior about to mount his bike with all his earthly belongings."

On the Tips of Your Fingers

 We've been escaping to watch "Corner Gas" after the news. And it's a temporarily good remedy.

Having been raised in a small town, I got sent to another one to go to college. I'm a walker, so I walked in both. In the original one, there was a trap door from the attic, and I could go up there and sing with my guitar. At night, it must have been a little spooky, as the light from the attic attracted the city police with a flashlight. So, when I was out walking one night, the police stopped me again. I told them my name, and they, wondering who would be out walking in the dark of night, put the two events, atop the attic and walking at night, together. And they said, "Oh, it's you...no wonder!" So, it was a natural transition to walk in the next town, which doesn't bring back good memories. But it was safe. The point of this is, this is where I come from.

It's true that 1968 was not a good year for my family, and I won't go into details about that string of events here, but it wasn't a good year for our country, either.

So, either near or after graduation, I remember being on a charter bus, and a fellow from New Zealand started talking to me, saying, when he said he was going to the states, they said, well, you'd better carry a gun. I was taken aback! It was a bit before the '70's. I'd never heard we had that reputation. Coincidentally, I saw him a little later at a wedding of my friend to another New Zealander.

I could never have envisioned, though, with all that violence in the late 60's, it would morph into what we have now. The violence seemed confined to marches and VIP's getting killed, as well as soldiers brought home in coffins, one of whom was my brother.

My parents were Republican, and I don't think they could have envisioned what the party has morphed into now. At least, I hope they wouldn't have stubbornly clung to the party after all the shenanigans this party has pulled, voting in Trump, and a number of other unsavory characters, and staging an insurrection to overthrow the government.

We may not have been all that nice to each other in school, but we never had to fear for our safety. The events started with a mentally ill lady from Madison, Wisconsin, who walked into a classroom facilitated by a substitute teacher, in Illinois, and opened fire. The assailant managed to kill one child. I was so blown away by that, I got a whole book to read on this incident, trying to figure out who could do such a thing! It was unfathomable that this kind of thing would spread and grow and grow.

This does not mean that I think mental illness is the problem. Most people with mental problems don't go do these things.

The problem is the military assault weapons. It's time to stop trying to arm teachers. That's not their training, and that's not what they signed up for. It's time to stop saying the kids should have guns. Consider the stage of development kids are in, where they say, "Bang Bang...you're dead!" And people are insane enough to say they should have real guns.

During the era I've referred to, I got some counseling from a minister who bordered on modernism. He pointed out that when you play the guitar, what do you develop on your fingers? I could tell him from experience, callouses. Such is the way with the human spirit...you can develop...callouses.

So, if you wonder what's with the people in our government and those who vote for them, what exactly is wrong as they continue being enticed by the money they get from the gun lobby. They show no consideration for teachers, children, the children's parents and grandparents, these "leaders" have become exactly that...completely calloused.