I noticed something today of which I'm not particularly proud. Because of my hearing disability I don't seem to be particularly kind to others with disabilities. I've been in close proximity lately with a young lady with Down's syndrome. She is eager to help out in the office and is generally congenial. But, I cannot for the life of me understand what she is saying. It doesn't matter if my hearing aids are turned up or re-tuned or anything. I simply cannot understand what she is saying. So therefore, I appear rude to her, I'm sure. I'm brusque when she asks me a simple question (of course, I assume it's simple--she could be asking me the square root of something--I have no idea). I avoid running into her if I can help it. I can't tell if this is because I don't want the aggravation of asking her multiple times to repeat what she just said, or if it's because I really don't know if it would embarrass her more than me. I just don't want the hassle. Eww! Did you hear that? See what I mean? I wouldn't begin to know how to explain this to her. And I'm not sure she would "get it" anyway. So instead, I cower behind my desk or rush out of the room if I know she is coming in, so I don't have to deal with it. Not too sensitive, hunh?
I really don't know what the answer to this is, do I have to explain to her that I cannot hear her and would she shout from then on, obliterating any hope of understanding her? Do I keep doing what I'm doing? She will not be working during the summer I don't think, which I believe is a blessing for me as I will be in the office alone with her and I don't think I could manage. Ah, phooey. I guess I'm supposed to learn something from this, but the message is all garbled anyway.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
To Denny
People come and go in our lives all the time. Some people spend a lot of time in our face and we wish they didn't. Some people spend very little time with us and it never feels like it's enough. There are people who are blessings without so much as a religious icon in their vicinity. They are spiritual beings, they bring light and smiles. They bring soft comfort and warm companionship. They bring a feeling of peace and understanding. They don't say the benediction out loud, but whisper it in your ear through their words of encouragement and thoughtfulness. And when they leave us, we are grateful that we knew them and feel privileged to have been part of their circle. They don't necessarily profess to be Christians or Muslims or Jews. But their profound example of love shared with others is all you need to be aware of their spirituality, their connection with something bigger than them or you. It is always, always a pleasure to be with them and you walk away saying to yourself, I want to be more like that.
The biggest problem with knowing someone like this, is that usually you think there is plenty of time to tell them how special they are, how nice it is to be with them, how grateful you are for their presence. And then they are gone and you never did get to tell them. And so not only do you mourn the loss of this person, you mourn the missed chance to make sure they knew just how good they were, how important they were to others and how much you will miss seeing them.
The biggest problem with knowing someone like this, is that usually you think there is plenty of time to tell them how special they are, how nice it is to be with them, how grateful you are for their presence. And then they are gone and you never did get to tell them. And so not only do you mourn the loss of this person, you mourn the missed chance to make sure they knew just how good they were, how important they were to others and how much you will miss seeing them.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Short Story, Long
I got my wedding ring cut off my finger today. That's the short version. And here's the longer version.
About a year ago I went to an area jewelry store to look at their beautiful collection of "sparklies". Sparklies are their gemstones set in earrings, necklaces and especially rings. I never realized what a fan of rings I was until I could afford to buy one or two (or even have them given to me!). Now I peruse their jewelry cases and marvel at the gems set in all kinds of gold, platinum and other precious metals and think, "gee, can I afford that?" There was a ring which caught my eye then but I put off even thinking about it because it was very expensive--at least to my standards. I looked in other jewelry stores and chain stores for something similar, but could never find one that made my eyes sparkle the way that one did. And so when I sauntered in recently to that local store, I had decided to pay for the ring over time because, well, I could afford to do that. I felt somewhat guilty. You know, that nagging feeling in the back of your mind that you could use the money for something pedestrian, like some new gadget for the kitchen or something philanthropic like sending a donation to the starving people of--well-wherever people are starving. But I overcame that sense of guilt and picked out my ring. Over the next few weeks I would stroll downtown and put money down on this marvelous piece of jewelry and anticipated when I would actually be able to size it and wear it. It was something to look forward to, like a vacation without the packing.
And so the day came when I put down the final amount. The owner came over to size the ring and lo and behold! it was the right size! It was fated to be mine, I thought. We chatted about this and that, jewelry and things when he noticed my engagement and wedding rings. Asking me where I purchased them, I relayed the info and he looked at the rings consideringly. Hmmm, I thought. What's he looking at? So, not one to be coy, especially with a person to whom I just paid a lot of money, I asked. He asked in return, how long had I been wearing the rings? Thirty-three years I replied proudly. He then informed me that the diamond of the engagement ring was still beautiful, but the prongs holding it were not going to last forever and probably needed to be tipped. Next time you're downtown, he suggested, I should come in, take the ring off and have him work on it for me. He could tip and re-size it all at once. I guess I never thought about my engagement ring that much. It occasionally slides around on my finger in cold weather or when I've spent too much time on the computer and my fingers lose their circulation (hey, it happens). But on the whole it doesn't really come off my finger much. But to tell the truth now that I was thinking about it, it was a little snug. He suggested I dip my finger in cold water and put dish-washing liquid on it make the removal easier. Okay, I thought, I can do that. But then he asked when the last time I took off my wedding band. My wedding band? I never take off my wedding band. Hmm, he said. I looked at it for a while and realized, if I wanted to take it off, I wouldn't be able to. My pudgy finger wouldn't allow it. No amount of dish detergent was gonna get that sucker off. I frowned. He looked at me.
"So what if I don't take it off? How bad could it be?" I told him in my best defensive manner. He indicated some ominous warning about how I'd be sorry if I wasn't able to get it off. I thanked him, took my new purchase and left the store thinking. At home later that night, I told hubby about the conversation. He thought the guy at the jewelry store had a point. "You'll probably have to get it cut off" he said. CUT OFF!
My ring?? But that is indeed what had to happen. I went back to the jewelry store, but they directed me to the firehouse. The EMT on duty wasn't surprised by my request. I guess he's seen a lot of stuff and this was pretty mundane to him. He took me into a resting ambulance, asked me to sit down and brought out the "ring cutter." The handy little device hooks under the band and the little screw cutter thingee essentially saws through the band. It took some prying and pulling to get it off, but eventually it was there in the palm of my hand instead of my third finger left hand where it had been placed 32 years, 9 months and change ago. I thanked the young man and left the firehouse.
On the way back to the car I began to get all teary. Which was ridiculous of course. I was still married to my marvelous hubby. The only thing different was the fact that the ring wasn't on my finger any more, it was in my pocket. But I began to think of all the things that that little piece of jewelry means to me: the years of little side jokes and remarks, the years of little children and grown up children, the laughter, the anger, the bad backs, bad hair and bad breath of all those years. All wrapped up in a little band of gold. And I realized, no amount of sparklies could replace that simple little band and all it has meant to me. What a revelation. Especially after spending all that money on the other ring!
So, am I taking the new ring back? Nope. I still love how it sparkles and shines. But I will be taking my wedding band and engagement ring to the jeweler who will re-size them for me. And then I will put them back on the finger they belong from the hubby I belong with as well.
About a year ago I went to an area jewelry store to look at their beautiful collection of "sparklies". Sparklies are their gemstones set in earrings, necklaces and especially rings. I never realized what a fan of rings I was until I could afford to buy one or two (or even have them given to me!). Now I peruse their jewelry cases and marvel at the gems set in all kinds of gold, platinum and other precious metals and think, "gee, can I afford that?" There was a ring which caught my eye then but I put off even thinking about it because it was very expensive--at least to my standards. I looked in other jewelry stores and chain stores for something similar, but could never find one that made my eyes sparkle the way that one did. And so when I sauntered in recently to that local store, I had decided to pay for the ring over time because, well, I could afford to do that. I felt somewhat guilty. You know, that nagging feeling in the back of your mind that you could use the money for something pedestrian, like some new gadget for the kitchen or something philanthropic like sending a donation to the starving people of--well-wherever people are starving. But I overcame that sense of guilt and picked out my ring. Over the next few weeks I would stroll downtown and put money down on this marvelous piece of jewelry and anticipated when I would actually be able to size it and wear it. It was something to look forward to, like a vacation without the packing.
And so the day came when I put down the final amount. The owner came over to size the ring and lo and behold! it was the right size! It was fated to be mine, I thought. We chatted about this and that, jewelry and things when he noticed my engagement and wedding rings. Asking me where I purchased them, I relayed the info and he looked at the rings consideringly. Hmmm, I thought. What's he looking at? So, not one to be coy, especially with a person to whom I just paid a lot of money, I asked. He asked in return, how long had I been wearing the rings? Thirty-three years I replied proudly. He then informed me that the diamond of the engagement ring was still beautiful, but the prongs holding it were not going to last forever and probably needed to be tipped. Next time you're downtown, he suggested, I should come in, take the ring off and have him work on it for me. He could tip and re-size it all at once. I guess I never thought about my engagement ring that much. It occasionally slides around on my finger in cold weather or when I've spent too much time on the computer and my fingers lose their circulation (hey, it happens). But on the whole it doesn't really come off my finger much. But to tell the truth now that I was thinking about it, it was a little snug. He suggested I dip my finger in cold water and put dish-washing liquid on it make the removal easier. Okay, I thought, I can do that. But then he asked when the last time I took off my wedding band. My wedding band? I never take off my wedding band. Hmm, he said. I looked at it for a while and realized, if I wanted to take it off, I wouldn't be able to. My pudgy finger wouldn't allow it. No amount of dish detergent was gonna get that sucker off. I frowned. He looked at me.
"So what if I don't take it off? How bad could it be?" I told him in my best defensive manner. He indicated some ominous warning about how I'd be sorry if I wasn't able to get it off. I thanked him, took my new purchase and left the store thinking. At home later that night, I told hubby about the conversation. He thought the guy at the jewelry store had a point. "You'll probably have to get it cut off" he said. CUT OFF!
My ring?? But that is indeed what had to happen. I went back to the jewelry store, but they directed me to the firehouse. The EMT on duty wasn't surprised by my request. I guess he's seen a lot of stuff and this was pretty mundane to him. He took me into a resting ambulance, asked me to sit down and brought out the "ring cutter." The handy little device hooks under the band and the little screw cutter thingee essentially saws through the band. It took some prying and pulling to get it off, but eventually it was there in the palm of my hand instead of my third finger left hand where it had been placed 32 years, 9 months and change ago. I thanked the young man and left the firehouse.
On the way back to the car I began to get all teary. Which was ridiculous of course. I was still married to my marvelous hubby. The only thing different was the fact that the ring wasn't on my finger any more, it was in my pocket. But I began to think of all the things that that little piece of jewelry means to me: the years of little side jokes and remarks, the years of little children and grown up children, the laughter, the anger, the bad backs, bad hair and bad breath of all those years. All wrapped up in a little band of gold. And I realized, no amount of sparklies could replace that simple little band and all it has meant to me. What a revelation. Especially after spending all that money on the other ring!
So, am I taking the new ring back? Nope. I still love how it sparkles and shines. But I will be taking my wedding band and engagement ring to the jeweler who will re-size them for me. And then I will put them back on the finger they belong from the hubby I belong with as well.
Monday, May 9, 2011
She's Here With Me
The swish of the brown (reddish highlights?) curls
And the plop on the sofa
She announces herself
As if she needed to.
She is there always with me.
Her calls cap off the laughter
Or the drama we no longer have
At mealtimes or even between times
Until she enters calling for the cat
And perching on the radiator.
She culls the latest video
For the laugh of the week
The most bizarre download
The most dazzling spectacle
And brings us into her light
As she calls us from our computers
And books.
She is with me always,
In the mornings, in the evenings
in the long afternoon hours
No longer waiting for the crunch of
the car on the stones in the driveway
Heralding the swish of the brown hair (with reddish highlights?)
And the plop on the sofa.
And the plop on the sofa
She announces herself
As if she needed to.
She is there always with me.
Her calls cap off the laughter
Or the drama we no longer have
At mealtimes or even between times
Until she enters calling for the cat
And perching on the radiator.
She culls the latest video
For the laugh of the week
The most bizarre download
The most dazzling spectacle
And brings us into her light
As she calls us from our computers
And books.
She is with me always,
In the mornings, in the evenings
in the long afternoon hours
No longer waiting for the crunch of
the car on the stones in the driveway
Heralding the swish of the brown hair (with reddish highlights?)
And the plop on the sofa.
Tulips on the Windowsill
There are two bunches of them
Tulips, I mean
Swaying in the afternoon breeze.
They came to let me know
He is thinking of me
Across the miles
Across the years.
They were tightly closed when they arrived.
Buffered against the elements by cardboard
And careful packing.
But today they are gradually opening
Letting in the light
Letting in the warm breeze.
They make me think of him,
The tulips, I mean.
As a baby he was tightly wrapped
And as he grew he opened
His thoughts, emotions, and yes, tantrums.
And then he began to close slightly,
Like the tulips at night
Closing their petals against the evening air
And the dark.
He would close those glimpses into
His emotions and thoughts,
Making his own night.
Protecting him from the elements
Toughening him to the outside.
But now, as the years pass
He opens slightly again.
In passing glimpses, in slow head nods
In small smiles.
It takes a week to see him again as he
Was before and
Then he is gone again
As the petals fall off the tulips
And lay on the windowsill.
Reminding me still of him.
Tulips, I mean
Swaying in the afternoon breeze.
They came to let me know
He is thinking of me
Across the miles
Across the years.
They were tightly closed when they arrived.
Buffered against the elements by cardboard
And careful packing.
But today they are gradually opening
Letting in the light
Letting in the warm breeze.
They make me think of him,
The tulips, I mean.
As a baby he was tightly wrapped
And as he grew he opened
His thoughts, emotions, and yes, tantrums.
And then he began to close slightly,
Like the tulips at night
Closing their petals against the evening air
And the dark.
He would close those glimpses into
His emotions and thoughts,
Making his own night.
Protecting him from the elements
Toughening him to the outside.
But now, as the years pass
He opens slightly again.
In passing glimpses, in slow head nods
In small smiles.
It takes a week to see him again as he
Was before and
Then he is gone again
As the petals fall off the tulips
And lay on the windowsill.
Reminding me still of him.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Pets or Something Like Them
I don't know what it is about pets. Why do we have them? What Neanderthal thought up the idea of bringing the dog in the cave first? Or who thought of the idea first to bring the cat into the home or decided to have a bunny for a friend rather than Sunday dinner?
Pets get in the way almost always. They shed. They make pulls in your sweaters. They leave trails of water and food all over the place. You have to clean up after them in one way or another. Depending on the type, they either love you, tolerate you or cower from you except when you feed them. They almost always take up space, time and energy and when a person gets older none of these are things are easily given up. So why exactly do so many people have pets? When pets eventually get old, you have to decide their quality of life for them as they are unable to articulate this for themselves. And you end up feeling guilty and horrid if you have to put them to sleep because it's such a burden to take care of them anymore. They cost money, too. Veterinarian bills are not cheap. And if you don't register your pet, at least in our town, and the powers that be find out about it, you can be fined. And if their shots aren't up to date, you can be fined for that as well. I'm just not sure I understand why pets are so important.
Growing up in our house we always had a dog of some kind. I don't recall particularly caring for them much. I fed them once in a while. I played with them occasionally. But they were on the periphery of my life, not the center piece. We had cats, too. They were amusing, but again, not something I remember taking responsibility for very much.
When I grew up and married and moved away from home, my husband, a true lover of cats convinced me that having a cat was a good thing. And two cats would keep each other company. Until they got old. And someone had to take care of their messes and their bad health. And eventually someone (how did I get nominated?) had to take them to the vet to be put to sleep. I cried over them, but my husband was much more sad than I. And then, we got two more cats because we had kids and they needed to learn how to take care of pets, right? And now we are down to one cat. And she is old and making messes and you can see where this is going, can't you? Especially since the children are grown and living away from home. And it becomes hard to do this. And I don't really want to anymore.
And so, gazing out the window on the back yard at the old cat laying on the stone driveway, I wonder. Why do we have pets? And I still don't have an answer.
Pets get in the way almost always. They shed. They make pulls in your sweaters. They leave trails of water and food all over the place. You have to clean up after them in one way or another. Depending on the type, they either love you, tolerate you or cower from you except when you feed them. They almost always take up space, time and energy and when a person gets older none of these are things are easily given up. So why exactly do so many people have pets? When pets eventually get old, you have to decide their quality of life for them as they are unable to articulate this for themselves. And you end up feeling guilty and horrid if you have to put them to sleep because it's such a burden to take care of them anymore. They cost money, too. Veterinarian bills are not cheap. And if you don't register your pet, at least in our town, and the powers that be find out about it, you can be fined. And if their shots aren't up to date, you can be fined for that as well. I'm just not sure I understand why pets are so important.
Growing up in our house we always had a dog of some kind. I don't recall particularly caring for them much. I fed them once in a while. I played with them occasionally. But they were on the periphery of my life, not the center piece. We had cats, too. They were amusing, but again, not something I remember taking responsibility for very much.
When I grew up and married and moved away from home, my husband, a true lover of cats convinced me that having a cat was a good thing. And two cats would keep each other company. Until they got old. And someone had to take care of their messes and their bad health. And eventually someone (how did I get nominated?) had to take them to the vet to be put to sleep. I cried over them, but my husband was much more sad than I. And then, we got two more cats because we had kids and they needed to learn how to take care of pets, right? And now we are down to one cat. And she is old and making messes and you can see where this is going, can't you? Especially since the children are grown and living away from home. And it becomes hard to do this. And I don't really want to anymore.
And so, gazing out the window on the back yard at the old cat laying on the stone driveway, I wonder. Why do we have pets? And I still don't have an answer.
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