What Would You Do? (Part 2 of 2--What I Did!)

Once again as I watched "What Would You Do?" on Friday night, I recalled an incident in which I totally lost my cool--nothing new to anyone who personally knows me. I admit that I do have a tendency to think before I speak, which is exactly what I did one afternoon while shopping.

My traveling companion Shelly and I were meandering through the underground mall at Bally's in Las Vegas. There seemed to be very few shoppers walking about; and as we rounded a corner, we saw immediately a stunned woman who had obviously fallen and was still sitting on the ground. As we rushed to assist her, I saw a young gentleman, perhaps in his early thirties, exit from a nearby store and walk by this woman ignoring her as though she were part of the decor. (or so I thought)

I came unglued and within seconds was in his face! "What is WRONG with you? Why didn't you help that woman? Can't you see she needs help?" as I pointed in her direction. I couldn't believe that he was being so obnoxious...denying that he had seen her...while I continued to rant and rave at him. Meanwhile, Shelly is making faces at me and obviously trying to tell me something, but I ignored her. After my rampage, the gentleman did return to check on the woman (who had already been helped by others), and Shelly tried to explain to me that she honestly believed the fellow didn't walk directly by her--thus, hadn't seen her as he had tried to tell me. Ohhhhhhh dear me! A lesson well learned for future reference.

....which came the next day I'm sorry to relate to my readers. The two of us were walking down Las Vegas Blvd. when all of a sudden, another fallen woman! Only this time it was ME! 

Within seconds I was surrounded by five or six gentlemen who were all questioning me to see if I was okay and extending their hands to help me from the ground. As I glanced up at Shelly, once again she was making faces at me!  What on earth was she doing this time?

After thanking everyone for their assistance, I turned to Shelly. It seemed that one of the fellas who had rushed to my side was concentrating so hard on helping me that he hadn't realized he was stomping on Shelly's foot the entire time. She was the one in pain, not me! Oh my gosh! We laughed so hard! What a hoot!! Perhaps this could be another scenario for "What Would You Do?"  Shove the fellow on your foot to the ground?  lol


Now back to the Hard Rock Cafe....

Bill, Rita, Terry, and I had a superb dinner that evening, choosing NOT to sit by the window, NOT moving our car to a nearby parking garage, NOT asking our server about the safety of parking on the street, NOT choosing a different restaurant, but to just ENJOY our time together.

As soon as we left the restaurant, the "protector" of our car was immediately at my side asking a variety of questions about our dinner, what we had, was it our favorite, etc. He beamed as he relayed the fact that our car was in perfect condition just as he had promised. He had done a great job!

Yes, he had as I checked to see if the hubcaps were still in place. He gave me that huge grin of his as I reached into my pocket and handed him a $5 bill. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" resonated from both him and me. Naturally, he had to scurry over to Bill and wish him luck in Sunday's Cowboys/Redskins game. Another $5 bill...woo hoo!!

As he held my car door open, I wished him well...."See you the next time!"

A Hockey Mom's 'AH HA' Moment

I recall vividly the day my son came to me and said, "Mom, I want to play hockey." That was the last thing I expected to hear from my 9-year old who had never even been on a pair of ice skates. "Honey, there is no hockey here," I quietly replied. "Uh huh, Mom! I heard it on the radio." Well, of course, I laughed hysterically, but he was insistent and oh-so serious. As I thumbed through the local newspaper, there it was--the dreaded hockey registration notice. It appeared that a group of residents in a nearby town were starting an organized hockey league.

Therefore, I did what I thought every other mother in my predicament would do--signed him up! Only later did I discover that a few of my friends thought I was crazy--driving 40 miles every day after school for practice and spending weekends going to games and tournaments in Canada and North Dakota, traveling even as far as Grand Forks, ND, and Moorhead, MN. Was I really crazy? Probably! Then again, it's what he wanted to do. If at any time he would have told me that he wanted to quit, I would have agreed because it meant that it was no longer "fun" for him. In fact, as a junior in high school, he played basketball, which was somewhat eye-opening. However, that sport was short-lived as he spent his senior year on the ice.

I don't know exactly why he chose the goalie position, but it was more than likely because his skating skills left just a little bit to be desired. I had always thought that a goalie needed to possess a certain mindset because it was easy for other players and parents to blame him for a game loss. That's when an excellent coach could and would make all the difference.

As a mother, I have to admit that I was one of those over-exuberant fans. I never coached from the sidelines, but my favorite "yell" was "Be ready, Bud! Be ready, Bud!" One time I had to laugh at a fellow parent, who didn't attend many games and asked me, "Who is Bud? Do we have a Bud on our team?" *shaking my head*

My most memorable "hockey mom" moment came during my son's PeeWee (age 12) game. His team was playing in the ND State Championship consolation game for 3rd or 4th place. If they won, it would be the first trophy brought home by any team in the 4-year existence of the Richland Ranger's league.

At the end of the regulation game, the score was tied; thus, a shootout--five one-on-one shots on each goalie. Oh! I was so excited and yet so nervous for him. I could never imagine being in that position. But he held his own, and the score was still tied at the end of the shootout. Another shootout! I was BEYOND nervous at this point! As the coach was selecting his next five shooters, I saw my son leave the net. What was he doing?? He skated to the bench, lifted his helmet, said something to the coach, and returned to the net. How strange was THAT! After the game, I asked Russ, the coach, what Jason had said to him. Russ laughed and said, "He told me, 'Don't worry, Coach. I've got 'em covered." And he did! The trophy was theirs!

On the ride home in the car that day, I learned two valuable lessons from my children. Firstly, never under-estimate the love of a hockey sister. While we were all buzzing about the game, Janelle, age 10 at the time, excitedly blurted out, "I have a present for you, Brother!" pulling out of her pocket the "game-winning" puck and handing it over with pride. She beamed from ear to ear as she explained that she had found the official and asked for the puck because that goalie was her Brother! :)

Secondly, I learned to never under-estimate the influence that a coach can have on my children, good or bad. Once again I had one of those "bad mom" moments as I asked my son, "Wow! You had a super game! How does it feel to be a hero?" He gave me the most peculiar look and quietly replied, "Mom, I'm not a hero. I'm one of a team." In my eyes, Russ was now the true hero--he taught my son well.

I now have two grandsons playing hockey; and yes, I admit that it's probably all my fault. The picture on the left was taken from the front page of the Dickinson Press. Jackson, 6, is the little guy in blue. This is his second season, and he loves the game! The second pic is Leif, 5, who is in his first year of hockey in Moorhead, Minnesota. His brother Jacob is planning to join next year.

I only hope that during those 8 years as a "hockey mom" and a "basketball, volleyball, and track mom," I was able to give my children insight as to what to do and, even more importantly, what NOT do as a supportive parent. I definitely made my mistakes, but hopefully the lessons I learned will guide them as they now become the supportive "hockey mom and dad."

It's all about having "FUN!"

What Would You Do? (Part 1 of 2--Hard Rock Cafe)

After watching the new television show "What Would You Do?" I realized that I had experienced a similar situation but with a slight twist and thought my readers would find it somewhat humorous, though I found it rather freakish at the time.

Shortly after we had moved to the east coast, my cousin Bill and his wife Rita came to D.C. to do the "tourist" gig. One evening, the four of us decided to head for the Hard Rock Cafe. As we turned the last corner before reaching the restaurant, two things struck me as being rather peculiar. First, there were very few cars parked along the street which surprised me, as the Hard Rock is usually always a packed house. Second, I noticed a fella sitting alone on a stoop, which made me wonder if he was one of the hundreds of homeless individuals in the District.

After we parked, I opened my door, stepped out onto the sidewalk, and gasped in horror! The gentleman (?) I had seen on the stoop was literally holding my car door open for me and smiling. I instantly thought that we were about to be mugged, and more than likely at gunpoint!

I quickly gave him the once over...he wasn't a large fella, didn't appear to be intoxicated or high, but definitely could use a shower and a clean change of clothing. And what's with this big smile across his face? Is he proud of scaring the living daylights out of me? As I continued to stare at him, he finally spoke:

"You gonna have dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe?"

"Ummm...yes we are," as I turned to see Terry, Bill, and Rita now standing outside the car and giving our "visitor" the same stares I had been giving him. I couldn't get away from him soon enough as I joined the other three and headed across the street to the restaurant. But this fella was right alongside us repeating that he would "guard" our car for us.

"What...what did you say?" I curiously inquired.

"I will protect your car while you have dinner. You don't have nothin' to worry about."

Seriously? Should I be worried about my car? What could possibly happen to it? Wait!! Maybe it is time to worry! I'm positive that he knows more about nightlife in D.C. than I surely do.

He then hustled over to Bill and continued, "You are one big guy...are you a football player? I think you're a Dallas Cowboy, aren't you?"

(I should explain to my readers that Bill is about 6'3" and weighs somewhere in the neighborhood of 300+ pounds; and it just so happened that the Cowboys were playing the Washington Redskins in a few days from then.)

Bill just couldn't resist, and in his best version of a Texas accent, he replied, "Yes, I am! so you don't want to be messin' with me."

"No...no! I like the Cowboys!"

He accompanied us to the restaurant door, and his final words were, "Have a good dinner." How could I possibly have a good dinner if I was going to spend the next two hours contemplating what might happen next.

As we waited to be seated, Bill mentioned that we probably wouldn't have any hubcaps or stereo, or worse yet--any car--by the time we left. Of course, we nervously laughed and then discussed our options:

A: We could ask for window table to keep an eye on the car.

B: Terry could move the car to a public parking garage several blocks away (which is obviously what the 100+ current patrons had opted to do).

C: We could choose a different restaurant.

D: We could ask our server if our car was actually safe parked on the street. (explaining that we were new to the District)

E: We could ignore our "protector" and enjoy dinner.

"WHAT WOULD YOU DO?"

Part 2: See what we chose to do and the result of our decision.

The Clapper

I am quite certain that the majority of my readers have either seen the television advertisement for "The Clapper" or perhaps even own one. I had forgotten that Terry received one as a gift. He must have tucked it away for a rainy day--or should I say "snowy" day...and he and his "toy" have been driving me crazy ever since.

The first week of December he assembled my Christmas trees, and I spent the next three days decorating them to perfection. Yes!! They were absolutely gorgeous! He put up the outside lights and Christmas decorations--we were ready for the holiday season.

However, several days later while he was watching television and admiring our Christmas tree, he jumped out of the chair and made a mad dash to the garage only to return with "The Clapper." I couldn't imagine what he was planning to do with it, but soon found him tinkering under the tree. Oh, nooooooo! He really isn't going to attach it, is he?

"Clap! Clap!" Nothing happened. Again, "Clap! Clap!" Still nothing. But on the third try--on came the Christmas lights--success at last. "Clap! Clap!--off!" "Clap! Clap"--on! I'm not exactly sure what his reasoning was behind this--perhaps he just wanted to avoid bending over to flip the switch on the light cord.

But, wait!! The lights just went off with NO "Clap! Clap!" Within minutes we both realized that any loud noise from the television would turn the lights off and on--again and again! I suggested that he remove the device, but he found it rather humorous, so I went about my business cleaning up the kitchen after dinner. Because our living room, kitchen, and dining room are all in one open area, I discovered that ANY noise had the same effect. I couldn't even put away dishes without the lights "doing their thing."

I could certainly live with flickering Christmas lights; but when Terry's "Clap! Clap!" doesn't work, he resorts to YELLING at the tree, thinking if a loud noise could act like a switch, then so could an obnoxious "HA! HA!" Does he not realize how idiotic that is? I told him that he needed to warn me when he was going to "scream" at our tree. If our neighbors could see him now! I know they can definitely HEAR him!

We're finally going to celebrate Christmas this weekend with our children and grandchildren--thank goodness! That tree cannot come down soon enough for me; and this time, I will be the one to tuck "The Clapper" away for NO other "snow" day!

My Cabby World

Growing up and spending most of my adult years in Montana, I had no call for using a taxi to get from place to place unless my family and I were flying to a vacation destination and needed to get to our hotel. However, most of the time, we would use the airport shuttle or rent a car. If we did resort to using a taxi, I never paid much attention to the driver except for relaying our destination. But, oh how that changed when we made a stop in Nassau, Bahamas.

Denise, our taxi driver, was by far the most unique driver I had ever encountered. As we left the ship, I spotted her immediately...how could you miss her? She was decked in her finest apparel from head to toe. She wore a bright, fluorescent blue dress with matching high heels, and "bling-bling" that could blind a person. The beat up station wagon that set beside her, though, was enough to question whether or not the four of us should accept her ride. But we did--as well as several other passengers, including her two children she picked up along the way to take to a concert on the beach. She entertained us all the way to our destination, a true delight to have met. Perhaps that's why she was the only cabby's name I have ever remembered.

Then, of course, there are the cabbies I would rather forget! Very early one Thanksgiving morning, Terry and I were flying out of Dulles Airport for Montana. I had called the previous night for a taxi to ensure our driver would be on time. We waited and waited--I called again. He was late! When he finally arrived and we were headed for the airport, he apologized for being late. He told us his tale of being stopped by a state trooper for "speeding." (Oh, great!! and I wanted him to speed to the airport!) He was from Peru and had only been driving for two weeks, but at least he could speak fairly good English and knew the way to the airport--unlike so many other cabbies in the D.C. area. Of course, my giving directions to the airport or to our home ensured me that it would be the shortest, quickest route--a good thing!!

In some cases, though, there is no short, quick route to my destination as I discovered one evening as I flew into Albany, NY, the closest airport to my conference site, Saratoga Springs. What? There is no shuttle? I grimaced at the thought of a 40-mile taxi ride, but hoped that the woman cabby would prove to be my best bet. Wrong again! She drove 50 m.p.h. in what I thought was a 70 m.p.h. zone the entire trip while sharing the history of the area, pointing out the sites to see along the way (which were impossible to see in the dark), and complaining about her relatives. I had never in my life spent $75 plus a tip (which my boss always said should be at least $10) for a taxi. What I found rather infuriating, though, was that the return taxi ride to Albany was only $55, plus a tip. Grrrrrrrrrr....

A month later, my boss and I were waiting at the airport in Gulfport/Biloxi, MS, for a flight home only to discover that there was a problem with the plane. Word came hours later that a part was being flown in; but it wasn't certain when the plane would be repaired, tested, and ready for flight. (Thank you, American Airlines for that information, which I could have lived without!) Meanwhile, the majority of the passengers were looking for alternate flights, my boss and I included. She was becoming quite frustrated because it was a holiday weekend, and she felt guilty that I was spending it in an airport trying to get home. She suggested that I check for any flights out of Mobile, AL. "WHAT?" She wanted me to take a taxi to Mobile (approximately 50+ miles) to catch a flight. This woman had rocks in her head!! No way was I going to do that--I'd rather wait. I wasn't THAT fond of cabbies! And luckily within the hour, I was headed home, leaving her behind to catch the next flight.

I have to admire those NYC cabbies who are the greatest multi-taskers I've ever seen. They can continually honk their horn, yell at drivers who nonchalantly go about their business, and magically turn a 4-lane street into 6 or 7 lanes. However, my favorite NYC cabby is without a doubt Ben Bailey, who maneuvers those streets as if he owns them. If he had stopped for me, I more than likely would have been kicked to the curb.

If you're planning a trip to the BIG APPLE, you might consider looking at this website:

http://dsc.discovery.com/fansites/cashcab/quizzes/quizzes.html

Practice makes perfect, and good luck finding that ultimate cabby!


P.S. I'm fortunate if I get perhaps 7 out of 10 questions correct on these quizzes, and they're multiple choice. I can just imagine what my score would be without any help. If I am ever lucky enough to have Ben as my cabby, "Please, Ben, kick me ever so gently." :)

Expect the Unexpected! (Part 4 of 4--"Kenny")

Once again I found myself sitting in the principal's office of Sidney High School. Today she was telling me how pleased the district was with the success of my English and ITV classes, how receptive my students were to my creative teaching techniques, and how they seemed to respond favorably to the class when she talked with them individually. (Obviously she didn't approach the student who, on the second week of class went to his locker to retrieve a pen, paper, and his homework, and never returned for the remainder of the semester.)

As we were walking down the hallway toward the new room I would be using for my class, we encountered one of the staff's English teachers. After being introduced, she informed me, "I've had Kenny in my class for FOUR years, and he's just so lazy and falls asleep in class. Maybe YOU can do something with him." I glanced quickly at the principal and back to the teacher, "I certainly do hope so."

I had never been one to pre-judge a student because of comments made by others. I had taught enough years to realize that each student responds differently to either a class or a teacher. Her statement did spark a curiosity in me, though, and I was anxious to meet "Kenny." 

He was somewhat subdued that first night of class, and I was thankful that he didn't find a need to sleep. To my surprise, as the weeks rolled by he became more outgoing even to the point that he would ask questions, participate eagerly in presentations, and volunteer for certain activities. He was definitely a pleasant, polite young man whose performance was above average.

One particular evening the students were diligently working on group projects when the superintendent stopped by to observe. He gave me an inquisitive look as he wandered around the room chatting with students who were sitting on the floor doing a variety of activities such as cutting, pasting, writing, reading, gluing or chatting with a group partner. As he approached Kenny, who was lying flat on his back with one leg flung over the other, he asked, "What are you doing, Kenny?"  Without taking his eyes off the book he was holding, he responded, "Reading my Thesaurus." A wink and a "thumbs up" gesture came from the superintendent as he strolled by me and out the door.

Midway through the semester, I attended a Parent/Teacher Conference and was able to give mostly favorable reports to parents regarding their child's progress in my class. I was especially eager to meet Kenny's mother, as I was certain that she hadn't received many positive comments from his previous English teacher. But when she walked through the door, I couldn't believe my eyes!

I knew her! By the look on her face, she was just as surprised as I was! Her oldest son and my son played on the same hockey team for several years, and we had worked together in the concession booth and visited at the games and tournaments. However, at that time, Kenny was just a toddler, perhaps 2 or 3 years old. Because they have a common name to the area, I never made the connection. Even if I had, it wouldn't have made any difference. Kenny was an exemplary student that semester.

At the end of that school year, I retired from teaching, having accepted a job offer that would move us to the east coast. The company for which Terry worked had a going-away party for him. It wasn't until I saw Kenny's mother heading quickly in my direction, that I remembered her husband worked part-time for the same company. Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she hugged me tightly and whispered into my ear, "Thank you for giving Kenny his life back."

"You're more than welcome, but it wasn't me. Kenny earned it all on his own. He's awesome."


And with this memorable moment...so ended my days in the ITV world, along with 27 fun-filled years in the classroom.

Expect the Unexpected! (Part 3 of 4--"Seeing RED!")

As I readied for school the following morning, I was kicking myself for becoming somewhat lax in videotaping the remote classrooms for scenes exactly like the previous night. It wasn't that I feared the superintendent of Lambert High School wouldn't believe me, but had I documentation, it could demonstrate the severity of the teacher's harsh words. I promised myself that every ITV class from that day forward would be taped.

Once I had arrived at school and completed my preparation for the first class of the day, I headed to the office to make the necessary telephone call. As I waited for the secretary to connect me to the superintendent, I replayed the incident in my mind. I had never met this gentleman and was curious as to what his reaction would be.

"Hello."

"Yes, this is Mrs. Carlson from Savage High School, and I need to visit with you for a moment regarding last night's ITV English class."

What came next made me see RED! He was laughing...laughing uncontrollably!! Obviously the teacher had given him the wrong impression about what had actually occurred. I saw absolutely nothing funny!!

As he continued to chuckle, he replied, "Oh yeah...that was ME!"

"Excuse me?"

He repeated, "It was me. I sat in on the class and had no idea how that equipment worked. When the kids came out into the hall at break time, they told me that your students could hear every word I said. I didn't know that."

(I'm totally speechless at the moment...what could I possibly say to him, a superintendent, without being disrespectful?)

He continued, "Did you notice that I never stepped foot into that room during the last half of your class? I wasn't about to go in there. When I got home that night, I told my wife what I had said. She told me, 'It's time for you to retire.' She was definitely upset with me."

"Well, Sir, she wasn't the only one. My students became so angry with your comment that I could have had a small riot in my classroom. That student you addressed has enough problems, and really didn't need that."

"I'm sorry about what happened, and I assure you that I will not enter that class again."


As I returned to my classroom, I thought to myself, "No, what he SHOULD have done was have the decency to return to that classroom following the break and apologize to Allen because he knew that what he had said was inappropriate."

Later that afternoon as I prepared for a business class via ITV to Dawson County High School, I slipped a videotape into the recorder as I had promised myself and hoped I wouldn't need to use it. Yet, the very next day...another incident.

In all of my classes I had a habit of announcing any upcoming test several days in advance. For this particular class of almost 30 students, I reminded them on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday that they would be taking a major test on Friday--today.

As soon as I asked Mr. Mickelson, the monitor, to distribute the test, I saw Sarah, who sat in the front row directly in front of me, raise her hand. When I called on her, she explained, "I'm not taking the test today because I was absent yesterday and didn't know about it."

"Sarah, the test was announced at the beginning of the week while you were here. You need to take it today. There will be no makeup test for you."

"I'm NOT taking it," she bluntly stated as she glared at the test before her.

"Sarah, you have two options--take the test or take a zero. Those are the rules."

In an almost whisper, she mumbled under her breath, "F**k you."

For the second time this week, I was seeing RED! As I glanced at both classrooms of students, not many seemed to have heard her, but I had--loud and clear (She was sitting directly in front of a speaker).

"Mr. Mickelson, would you please escort Sarah to the principal's office and inform him that I will be talking with him immediately following this class." By the look on the other students' faces, I knew that they had not heard her, and for that I was so very relieved.

I viewed and prepared the videotape for mailing before making the telephone call to the principal. He was quite apologetic for his student's behavior and assured me that he would handle the situation accordingly.

It felt good knowing that as an outsider, I had a vast amount of support from numerous school administrations. However, I would soon learn that the more I did, the more they expected of me.

To be continued...

Expect the Unexpected! (Part 2 of 4--All Hell Breaks Loose!)

As I sat in the principal's office of Sidney High School, I listened intently to the plan she was proposing. The school district was asking me to teach an English night class to senior students who needed the credit to graduate. The class would be every Wednesday evening, would be three hours in length with a 15-minute break, and would be taught via ITV to Lambert High School as well. Their district would pay me my current hourly wage for class time, preparation time, and mileage. Without hesitation, I agreed.

For some unknown reason, I had never been able to say "NO" to any new adventure; however, as I drove the 20 miles home, I questioned my decision. These were more than likely going to be difficult students who disliked English class or school or BOTH. I needed to be extremely creative to hold their attention and keep control of both classrooms. I was either a glutton for punishment or loved a challenge--I wasn't sure which.

The first night of class proved to be somewhat interesting as I watched my students enter the classroom. Let me see--blue hair, Mohawks, two boys in the back wagging their tongues at one other (Apparently they both had just received tongue piercings.), a total of 17 boys and 1 girl. Gazing at the television monitor, I saw seven students enter the remote classroom; and I immediately discovered a pair of lovers sidling up to each other and holding hands under the table. Hmmm...that won't last long. I should explain to my readers that rather than individual desks, the ITV rooms consisted of long tables to allow speakers to be appropriately placed.

I thought that first class went quite well considering that I knew absolutely none of these students; but as I was preparing to leave that evening, Allen (name changed to protect the innocent) approached me and inquired, "Can I talk to you?"

"Of course. What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to tell you that you need to understand me 'cuz most teachers don't. I used to do drugs, but I'm trying not to do that anymore. Teachers don't understand. I just want you to know that I'm going to try to be a good kid in your class. But you need to understand 'cuz sometimes I have bad days...and nights. I just wanted to tell you that. Oh...and I get into trouble sometimes, but I'm not going to do that anymore. Okay? If you just try to understand who I am and where I'm comin' from, I'll be good for you and do all the work. Please just understand and give me a chance. Okay?"

...and so his rambling continued for the next 30 minutes. As I walked to the car where Terry was waiting for me, I couldn't help but wonder, "What did I get myself into this time?" Terry thought it was rather humorous, though, that a student would keep ME after class rather than vice verse.

Much to my surprise, the class was running very smoothly until the night all hell broke loose! The class was finishing a composition assignment when Allen approached me and inquired, "Could I go on 'break' now? I'm done."

"No, we still have a few minutes. Why don't you return to your seat and double check your work?"

He pleaded, "I did that already. Can I please go? I even said please."

"No, you need to wait just a few more minutes."

As he was headed back to his assigned seat, a particularly loud comment came from the remote classroom:



"If I was there, I'd SMACK that SMART ASS...teach HIM a lesson!"



No words could describe what I was thinking as I looked at the television and realized that the remark had come from the teacher who was monitoring the class. Instantly Allen was throwing glares between the television screen and me, yelling, "Is he talkin' to ME? Huh? Is he talking to ME, Mrs. C. Where is that guy?" He was livid...and so was I!

Immediately the other boys started yelling, "Yeah..he's talking to you! You going to let him get away with that? You should do something, Allen! That wasn't right...do something! Within seconds Allen was at the podium and yelling in my face...


"Can he hear me now? Where is that guy? I want to give him a piece of my mind!! Get him back in that room! Now!"


I was dumbfounded and slightly frightened to say the least. (Thank goodness I had the sense to turn off the speakers as soon the comment was made.) What a nightmare this was! While all of the boys were egging Allen on to do something, I somehow managed to stay calm as I responded:

"Allen, please, please settle down. He's not in the room and wouldn't be able to hear you even if he was. It's my problem, not yours; and I'll take care of it. I promise. Please..." Now I was the one doing the pleading. Our break time couldn't come soon enough for me as I sent everyone out of the room...giving them an extra 5 minutes. They honestly deserved it that night.

I was undoubtedly upset by the "comment" which came from that remote classroom, but what I would discover the following morning would infuriate me even more. And unfortunately, this would not be the only ITV incident before the long-needed weekend would eventually arrive.


To be continued...

Sensational Saturday!!

Almost eleven years ago I left the Savage High School classroom to "expand my horizons," thinking that I was leaving the town I had called "home" for the past 25 years never to return. I did, however, return for a high school graduation and a wedding, but never a sporting event.

Due to my daughter's listing on FB regarding my need to attend the upcoming state football championship game (even though she knew how much I dread the snow and cold weather), I was inundated with comments, pleas, and even bribes from friends and former students to attend the event.

Early Saturday morning as I peered out my front window at the snow piling up and as I listened intently to the Weather Channel's winter advisory warnings through Sunday, it would have been so easy to tell TC, "The weather is too bad...let's just stay home." I have to admit that I thought about it, but not for long. How could I possibly disappoint so many people though I knew they would understand if I chose not to go?

Despite the snow, the wind, the semi-trucks and car in the median and barrow pits along the interstate, two hours later we turned off the highway heading down Main Street in Savage. With an hour before game time, we decided to tour the town to see how much it had changed over the years. I admired the remodeled homes, the new decks and fences, the new bays added to the Fire Hall, and the new entrance to the Community Hall. I was most interested, though, in seeing how much the spindly, 12" evergreen trees I had planted two and a half decades earlier had grown. I was so awe-struck as they soared more than 20 feet high....awesome!! But when Terry turned down "Canal Street," (No, Nic, we weren't spying on you.) :) I knew it was time to head to Quale Field. :)

After finding the perfect parking spot where I could see the entire field as well as the scoreboard, I glanced at the outside temperature gauge...12 degrees! This heated truck seat felt sooooooo good as I watched the snow continue to fall, the field being brushed off, and the onlookers bundled up so tightly that I probably couldn't recognize anyone even if I tried. Once Terry left the vehicle and Janelle, Matt, and Jackson made their appearance in the bleachers, I knew I'd be venturing out soon. Even though I told Charity I was warming up until the start of the game, the heat was just too inviting as I watched the first half of the game from our pickup, cheering "GO WARRIORS" for the team (though I'm sure no one could hear me) and honking the horn when they scored.

After half-time, I donned a hooded sweatshirt over the one I was already wearing, added another coat and was set to brave the elements. Louie Reyna gave me the first of many, many bear hugs yesterday. Ohh...I think there was a conspiracy to see who could squeeze me the hardest, and I loved each and every one of them. My only disappointment was that I hadn't left the pickup earlier.

Naturally, I had to have one of my "senior" moments that proved I could still be an "air-head" at times! When Nicki Fischer and some "fella" approached me, he gave me a giant hug and started chatting with me. I looked at Nicki and she said, "You don't know who this is, do you?" ..."Nope." Oh my gosh! That was my moment because I knew she married Brady, but why would she be with someone else? Brady just didn't look like Brady...he had changed so much! Then again, I hadn't seen him since he was a freshman. I'm still laughing at what an idiot I was...not even putting two and two together. Perhaps it was the cold weather that gave me that temporary brain freeze. I am so sorry, Brady. :)

During the game and afterwards at the Hall, I had the opportunity to chat with former co-workers, parents, and so many of my former students. I loved spending those few minutes with each and every one of you...whether we talked about family, work, or school. Unfortunately, there were a few whom I never could find...next time for sure! Just like my evergreen trees, I have watched you grow from rambunctious children into beautiful young adults. I am proud to have been a part of your life and look forward to hearing from you in the future. (If you're not a member of my FB family, please take a moment to add me...the more, the merrier!)

Regarding the football game itself, the boys, none of which I actually know, made me feel as though I was once again a proud Warrior fan. They played as a team, gave every ounce of energy they could muster in such abominable weather, and held their heads high as they accepted the second-place trophy. What more could the outstanding coaches, the proud parents, and the exuberant fans ask of their team--a team that symbolizes such astounding Warrior Pride? Nothing--you have it all!

Because of your warmheartedness and extraordinary hugs, I will affectionately remember yesterday as my SENSATIONAL SATURDAY!

A WARRIOR FAN!

P.S. Amanda, you can just hold that dollar for my next trip to Savage. :)

To Buy or Not to Buy?

I never watch those infomercials that dominate the late night or early morning hours of television, but I must admit that I love thumbing through those quirky catalogs I receive in the mail which try to persuade me to purchase a product that I have never even seen, let alone desire to own. Many of the items described in the magazines are well known because of their "As Seen on TV" status.

I remember walking through the door of one of those "As Seen on TV" stores while living in Virginia and convincing myself that I could find more bargains than would fit into the trunk of my vehicle. I can't recall whether or not I even made a purchase that day; but if I did, it's now in the trash or sitting at the local charity store. Several summers ago TC did manage to grow three tomatoes from that "hanging" plant I gave him, but the strawberry plant was a total failure having produced not even a small leaf.

Yesterday's mail brought me a "Harriet Carter" catalog which brings out both the curiosity and anger in me--curiosity because I wonder if these products actually do what the ad says and anger because I wasn't the FIRST to invent the "goodie" to make my million dollars.

THIS WEEK'S MOST UNUSUAL BARGAINS:


"Garden Torch"

With winter on its way, this "Garden Torch" could be the ideal gift. It uses an "inexpensive" propane-filled cylinder to melt away ice on your sidewalk. My question is: "Where am I supposed to stand while melting that first patch of ice? On the ice? Doesn't that defeat the purpose, especially for a klutz like myself?"  According to the picture, that flame doesn't appear to be very big...How long is this going to take me to do my sidewalk? I'm thinking I'd probably either run out of propane or freeze my fingers before I finished, especially if I planned to do the driveway as well.

Oh, yes, and it doubles as a weed burner--"gets down to the roots"--as long as you don't start your garden or grass on fire...or even worse--your house. All this for the low price of $39.98. Sounds like too much work for me. I'll save it for a shopper who has more ambition than I do!



This is a "Purse Caddy" which allows me to keep my handbag off the floor and in full view while I'm dining out or in a public place. To me, using this device would be equivalent of telling a thief, "Here it is....come and grab it as you run by!" If I placed my purse under the table or at my feet, at least it would take the crook a moment to crawl on his hands and knees to grab it. The caddy does swivel flat for easy storage, but I wouldn't want my friends sticking this device on MY dining room table. It's a real STEAL at $5.98.

 

THIS ONE REALLY TAKES THE CAKE!!

 

This "Giant Cookie" cake pan set is supposed to create a 3D cake, which is no more that two cakes stacked atop each other with frosting or ice cream dividing the two halves. I love to decorate cakes, but when "I have my cake and eat it, too," I want frosting EVERYWHERE!! not just in the center!  However, if I frost the entire cake, the design would be hidden...so why would I buy this cake pan?  I can't see my grand kids wanting to dig right into this cake!

This "Neck Air Cushion" looks like an accident about to happen!  Once you wrap it around your neck, just PUMP IT UP to stretch your tight muscles, relieving  you of sore and stiff joints, pinched nerves, headaches, and MORE! I think I'll save my $19.98 for a trip to the chiropractor.

 

 

 

 

 



MY CHRISTMAS SHOPPING LIST

 

TO JANELLE:

 

This weather-resistant and motion-activated "Digital Security Camera" is guaranteed to instantly snap color photographs when movement is detected. It holds 200 photos and has a range of 23 feet, and it can even capture license plates! I'm not exactly sure how that works unless they drive up to your front door, but you definitely could use one of these!!

 

TO JASON:

 

This "Duct Tape" mug is perfect for you while you head to work every morning. You can sip from it while you let the policeman talk to the fella who ran into you; or get out the duct tape to patch the fender (Does that sound familiar?). You may consider keeping a case of it in the car for such emergencies. 

 

If you prefer not to drink and drive, we should re-gift this to Larry Miller. I hear he is quite fond of duct tape!! 

 

TO MY BROTHER:

 

With no ladies in the house, he and the boys might have a good time with this "Toilet Clock" that flushes on the hour.  It is guaranteed to turn their lavatory into a "laugh-a-tory."   

 

 

 

 

TO MY SISTER:

 

 

This "Money Tree" is the perfect gift for her. It's 16" high with bendable branches and twist-tie ends to hold the money in place. Notice that it comes with a gift wrap bag and an attractive card. MONEY NOT INCLUDED! Oh! She will be so disappointed!  For my readers who are not familiar with my sister, check out my blog: "The Most Wicked Award" ...and it's all true.

 

 

 

TO TERRY:

 

Because TC has hundreds and hundreds of caps, I thought this "Cap Washer" would be the ideal gift. When he launders his caps, he hangs them all over the laundry room to try to keep their shape. Doesn't he realize it would be easier just to wear the cap and it would conform to his head? At $4.98, this gift will obviously be the most expensive on my list, but he's definitely worth it.

Oh! and just in case he might forget where those dirty caps belong, I'm getting him this magnetic "Laundry Room Decal" with a colorful clothesline scene. This makes for a "Happy Place."  :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SAVING THE BEST FOR LAST

 

TO MYSELF:

 

Now that I'm retired and enjoying life more than ever, I hope never to become one of those grumpy older ladies who everyone dreads meeting on the street.  I know they say that "You're as old as you feel," but what about "You're as old as you act"?  That's who I want to be!!

 

Being the only left-hander in the family, I want some fun facts to give my grand kids when they notice that their "Grandma Babe" writes with the wrong hand. I know the time will come!

 

Wishing all my readers a safe, joyous holiday season!!

Expect the Unexpected! (Part 1--Equipment Galore!)

When I chose to become a business teacher, I knew that changes in technology were inevitable, but never in my wildest dreams did I expect to find myself on camera teaching to students in another school miles from home. ITV? What's that? I've never heard of such a thing. Interactive Television Video? That's too complicated for me. After all, I was the teacher who had her students set up the VCR, the laser disc player, and other pieces of classroom equipment because plugs, cords, outlets, remote controllers, and I just did not mix well.

The local communications company constructed an ITV classroom which would literally connect five rural schools and a community college, enabling students to take classes that were not normally available to them. As my superintendent gave me a tour of the classroom, he briefly explained the advantages of "long-distance learning," demonstrated how a teacher could teach two classrooms of students simultaneously, and then broadsided me with..."I have 'volunteered' you to teach a general business course from here to Sidney." In passing, he mentioned that the remote classroom would have a teacher "monitor" to assist me should I need any help. The entire time I am thinking to myself, "He has more faith in me than I do!"

What was he thinking anyway! Just because I was always experimenting with new teaching techniques, it didn't mean that I truly wanted to adventure out of my own "safe" classroom world into someone else's. He further explained that I was to take a 3-day course to learn how to use each piece of equipment (Oh, brother! That proved to be interesting!). Just show me again how you did that picture in a picture--I really don't care what color of clothing I should wear to look good on camera!

Students doing their own experimentation with the equipment.

Now it was time to master this technological "Eighth Wonder of the World" which included four television monitors, various types of cameras, speakers, VCR's to record both classrooms as well as play instructional videos, and a fax machine to exchange paperwork and receive homework.

Several weeks into the semester I thought that perhaps I was worrying for no reason. The class was going well, and it appeared that I had conquered my fear of the "Eighth Wonder." Even the students learned to operate the equipment as they demonstrated class projects in front of the cameras.

I made a point to visit the remote classroom often to develop a relationship with my "new" students. As I was introducing myself to the Sidney class as "The New Kid on the Block," the superintendent stopped by to observe the class and found me performing "live" that day. I had only met him once and was glad to have him on board. That is until one of my students raised his hand and inquired, "Did you ever have Leslie McPherson as a student?" I replied, "Oh, yes, and she was such a sweet girl." He beamed with pride as he told me, "She's my mother!" (Yikes! This wasn't exactly what I had expected!) "Oh, please tell her hello for me, but you should know that I started teaching at age 10. I'm REALLY not THAT old!" As the room filled with laughter, I realized that this was going to be a fun time!

On Halloween Anthony (a Sidney student) presented me with the little fella shown here, which the classes appropriately named "Boo." He became our class mascot and rested comfortably on an overhead camera for all to see during my next three years in the ITV world.

Even today, he continues to be a part of my life, a fond memory from the past, as he watches over my grandchildren in the playroom.

With this first year successfully behind me, I found myself being approached by the Sidney principal who had additional plans for me. What assumed to be an ideal situation was soon to become a teacher's WORST NIGHTMARE!

To be continued...

Special Words from My Son

It only seems appropriate that I share with you a memorable moment that I had with my son Jason, who has no idea how he made me feel so very special one particular evening years ago.

During his high school graduation ceremony, this mom never shed a tear because I knew that this was the beginning of his "real" life as he explored that great wide, wonderful world beyond his sanctuary called home. But there was sadness as TC and I drove away from Concordia College in Moorhead, Minnesota, where we had left him to begin his journey. I personally was hoping for a college slightly closer to home, but after weighing all of the scholarship offers and his non-stop pleas, the Concordia students, staff, and roomies became his new "family."

I eagerly awaited "Family Weekend," when we could spend quality time with him as well as attend the football game, social events, and most importantly of all, "The Showcase" on Saturday evening. Because Concordia College is known worldwide for its musical talent, the Showcase was attended by thousands of spectators during the two performances. It always included twelve single presentations of either individuals or groups chosen by a selection committee following hundreds of auditions.

As we headed to the auditorium, he revealed to us that he had been selected to perform in the Showcase. He would be playing the guitar and singing a song that he had written, "Two Homes, One Heart." Because he was performing in the first half of the program, he would join us at intermission. I was both excited and nervous for him, but I knew that he would do well--my naturally gifted musician.

Then the moment came...

The lights dimmed in the auditorium...he walked to center stage with guitar in hand, the spotlight and all eyes upon him. He introduced himself, gave a short synopsis of the song he had written, and then quietly and slowly said,

"I want to thank my parents for driving all night so they could be here with me this weekend. I love you, Mom." I had heard those four words from him thousands of times before, but at that very moment, my heart melted and the tears flowed. I'm not sure if it was those special words of love or the song that touched me; but when he found us during intermission, I stood and gave him the tightest hug ever.

I love you, Jason.

Mom

A Message from My Daughter

As my daughter grew into a young lady, I marveled at her accomplishments whether it was taking her first "step," reading a book on her own for the very first time, creating beautiful art projects designed especially for Mom and Dad, giving her "all" while participating in her favorite activities, beaming with pride after obtaining her first job and purchasing her first car, or displaying her happiness at even the most minuscule things in life.

For me, however, there was one very special message from her that I think of more often than any of her accomplishments. It is a handwritten note that was tucked deep inside a Mother's Day gift package she sent to me after having left home to begin her life's adventure.

Mom,

I hope that I have surprised you with this package, and I also hope that you like this afghan. I could not find a better way to say "Happy Mother's Day" than millions of stitches and hours and weeks of work.

If I made one stitch for everything that you have done for me--the afghan would circle the Earth five times. :) I want to thank you for being an example to me and showing me true love, courage, strength, and the will to strive and better myself.

Everything that I have accomplished and will do in my life, I owe to you. Thank you for being the perfect mother.

Lots of Love,

Janelle

Not only does this remind me of what a wonderful, thoughtful daughter I have, but also how thankful I am to have her as an enormous part of my life. I'm sure that she never imagined how a message in a package could mean so much. It's those little things that make such a huge impact in a person's life.

I love you, Jen!

Mom

To my readers: This blog is quite personal, but I chose to write it if I could inspire just one person. If you are fortunate to have your mother or daughter with you today, I pray you will do something special for them. Cherish the moment because life is too short, and only God knows how long they will be with you.

The Paper Fiasco

From as early as I can remember until I turned 13, I spent endless hours with my grandfather while he delivered newspapers for the Billings Gazette. He taught me everything there was to know about the position of "paperboy" including how to fill the vending machines as we completed his route to various hotels in downtown Billings, transportation depots, and the airport.

My father also had a delivery route as a part-time job, and I would frequently accompany him. I laughed as he would describe the special "techniques" he used to sling a newspaper into the appropriate tube. He taught me how to memorize the patrons' addresses and emphasized how important it was to keep the customers happy.

If he were with me today, I'd make him chase down my current deliver "family" and teach them a lesson or two. Having had subscriptions with the Billings Gazette, the Sidney Herald, and the Washington Post over the years, I have never had the trouble that is now plaguing me with the MC Star. Over the past three years, I've averaged at least one call a month to Jeff, the Circulation Manager for "missing" newspapers, but during the past four months those called have escalated to a dozen calls or more.

I was away for almost the entire month of September and asked my paper to be stopped at that time. It took three calls to Jeff to get my subscription restarted. But after a couple of days, my paper stopped again... another call to Jeff. He explained that a family has the route and they have trouble keeping changes to subscriptions straight. "Oh...please tell me something that I don't already know."

The following week, I telephoned Jeff again...no papers on Tuesday and Wednesday. During that same conversation, I asked him to cancel my paper for the following week because I was going to be away from home. He rushed out to my home to deliver the missing papers, but as for the following week... I came home to find FIVE newspapers stuck in my door handle. What was it about "NO DELIVERY" that these people couldn't understand? Another call to Jeff was in order. I asked him if I were the only person on the route in my subdivision, and he explained the route had 56 customers and that no one else has complained except ME.

Just last week I had another missing paper....another call to Jeff. He explained that it was a "family" route. They have a little trouble with it. "Oh, really? I wouldn't have guessed that."

On Wednesday I waited for my paper to check the election results. You guessed it--NO PAPER! By now Jeff can recognize my voice, of course, and immediately he asked, "What did they do THIS time?" I emphasized, "It's what they DIDN'T do! They didn't deliver my paper again." I inquired as to how many extra papers the carriers were given and discovered they usually have 2-3 spares. "Well then, don't give them ANY extra papers, and when they have one leftover, it's MINE!"

That was yesterday, and I did receive my daily paper. However, it's now Friday and I'm still waiting!! I'm at my wit's end! I need help!

Conquering Obstacles (Part 54--My Family)

Even before my children were born, I knew that there would be huge obstacles to overcome while they were growing up; but they were much smarter than I had anticipated. I chuckle when I think about the times they were in trouble. I imagine that their knowing I wasn't able to "run" them down took all the fun out of the "chase." Instead, they would walk very, very slowly toward me with tears in their eyes. Poor babes!

My daughter Janelle
and her son Jackson, 6.

I knew I wouldn't be able to do certain activities with them such as play "tag," but I taught them to paint, to draw, to cook, to care for pets, as well as to share, to play nice, to be fair, to be kind and gentle, to be respectful and to be the best person they could be. 

I could, however, give them a lifetime hobby by spending hours upon hours with them on the golf course as soon as they became old enough to play. Every summer morning (barring rain) we would hit the course for our nine holes followed by lunch and sometimes a little shopping. This was our ritual until they became old enough to get summer jobs. I considered it our "bonding" time while they more than likely considered it "Keep Mom Happy" time. Of course, they became much better golfers than me, but we never were into actually keeping score. I did tally up the unusual "hits," though, which included one bird, one squirrel, and one horse. What fun we had! I'm happy to say that every summer we all vacation together, and it usually includes at least one round of golf.

I encouraged my children to be individuals rather than going with the crowd. As they found various activities to join, I found myself being the supportive mom attending basketball, volleyball, track, hockey and horseshoe pitching competitions. (I'm so grateful they never wanted to learn to ski.) I was sometimes an overzealous fan, but I was there, win or lose.

Jacob, 7, Nicole, Norah, 1,
Leif, 5, and my son Jason.

When I needed them most, they, in return, were there for me. After my second hip surgery, I was resting permanently in a recliner when they presented me with two homemade coupon books filled with pages of tasks they were willing to do for me. They were 9 and 11 at the time and were so proud to do their share. The tasks ranged from cleaning their rooms, doing dishes, mopping the floor, tackling the laundry, to "Pick a chore." I couldn't have been  prouder of them than I was at that one uniquely memorable moment. I used several of the coupons for the easier chores, but felt that the loving gesture was more than enough for this mom.

Terry (TC) and me

Terry is the love of my life, my "true friend." In all our years together, I can't recall his ever asking anything of me. Rather, I feel as though I've lived my life on a pedestal. He would do anything I asked of him. Sometimes it might take awhile, even up to a year, (especially if there's a good "game" on television), but eventually it would get done.

When our children were growing up, he was the perfect dad spending all his free time with them, doing the things I wasn't able to do. But all the children in the neighborhood loved Terry. I recall the time I found a little guy sitting on our deck waiting for TC to get home from work. When I asked him why he was waiting, he asked me, "Is Terry going to the "dump" (to empty trash) today? Could I ride along?" Of course, Terry wasn't planning to make the trip that day, but within minutes of getting home, Terry had Jason, Janelle, and Brady in the truck heading toward  the "dump."

Even now when our grandchildren stay with us, they wait patiently for Grandpa Terry to get home from a 12-16 hour workday because they know that he will take them fishing, or take them to get a movie, or take them for a ride in search of prairie dogs.

I can't imagine what my life would have been like if it weren't for him. He is and always has been the ultimate husband, father, and grandfather, the love of all our lives. We love you..


To My Readers:

God bless you all and may your life be pain free and as fulfilling as mine.

Conquering Obstacles (Part 53--Understanding)

It wasn't until after I received my new hip joint that I truly understood why my mother kept secrets. I found myself constantly thinking of the doctor's outlook--15 years looking through rose-colored glasses. Every ache and pain would cause me to wonder if the time had come. I despised the worrying and tried desperately to block it from my mind. But I also remembered my mother telling a doctor he was wrong when he said I would never walk again. That's the attitude I chose--the positive side of pain knowing that it would someday subside.

Eight years later the socket was replaced, and according to the doctor, that could be expected because I was still young and quite active. What he didn't expect, though, was the ball joint of the original replacement hip to last 29 years, being replaced just two years ago...a miracle in my eyes. When I learned several months ago of a hip joint "recall," I found it rather humorous, but still made a point to check with my doctor regarding my "model" type because I didn't need the stress of the unknown. Thank goodness I have a Bio-Met and not the DePuy. Whew!

In the early '90's I was visiting Sherry when she informed me that she had been diagnosed with PPS (Post-Polio Syndrome). The shock was overwhelming especially since I had never heard of it and had no idea what it entailed. I spent hundreds of hours researching to find out what could possibly happen to me and to prepare myself for the worse. I was disheartened when I read an article that stated every polio victim will eventually contract PPS.

It felt like I had been beaten within an inch of my life when it hit in 2003. Every muscle hurt, and I didn't even want to move. I had learned to deal with pain, but this was indescribable. Picture yourself making your bed in the morning and having to sit (to relieve the muscle pain in your back and legs) three or four times before finishing the task. But with the help of my neurologist, Dr. Cintron, I learned how to eventually manage the pain without the use of drugs by swimming daily if possible.

  I was fitted with a half brace to help my weakened muscles, which I wore for less than a week. It has been on the closet floor ever since. Even at my age, it's not an option. I wore braces for too many years; and if I have to suffer with a little pain by not wearing it, that's what I'll do.

Another surgery in 2005 for a knee replacement went as usual--another failure due to a staph infection. A subsequent surgery eliminated the infection but left me with a wound vac attached to my knee for the next twelve weeks. It didn't stop me from going to cheer on my favorite hockey team, the Washington Capitals, though. TC seemed more worried about the crowds kicking my crutches from under me than I did. Poor guy! I must have driven him crazy at times.

I understand the meaning of pain but have never forgotten those who suffer so much more than I ever have. Knowing that if I abuse my muscles, I will lose them, I have learned my limitations; however, it doesn't stop me from doing what I love best--traveling, riding roller coasters, and spending quality time with my family.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 52--From the Past)

While I was playing "toys" with my two little darlings one summer afternoon, the telephone rang. "Hello." There it was again--that familiar voice from the past.

It had been seventeen long years since I had last seen Vic, and fourteen years since I had talked with him; but just like old times, I felt his closeness. We spent hours that day just "catching up." He was married now and had an only child who was 12 already, which was hard for me to imagine. It didn't seem like it had been that long...as though it were yesterday. He mentioned his wife only in passing, but told me he was happy, which was the most important of all to me.

I told him stories about my children, those two little loves of my life, and their funny antics, but also shared with him how happy TC and I were together. Life was perfect with one exception: the unanswered question that had been haunting me for so many years.

"Why did you change your mind about coming to see me? You should have called."

As I listened intently, I felt a sudden change in his tone. He spoke quietly, slowly, pausing between each word, as though he were recalling a painful memory.

"I did leave home that night just as I had promised you. It was pouring rain...the roads were covered with water... I was in an automobile accident. I was thrown through the windshield and seriously injured, spending months in the hospital. I don't remember much about that night except thinking how upset you would be. And now I think about how different our lives could have been, should have been. I am so so very sorry."

I asked no more questions but quietly remarked, "It wasn't meant to be."

A week later I received a short note, along with a beautiful photograph of him and his family. He still had that gorgeous smile of his and appeared to be even happier than I had expected. I glanced at it often during the next several days and realized what I needed to do.

I kissed the photograph, placed it in an envelope, and returned it to him with no note, closing the book on this chapter of my life.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 51--The Ugly Nurse)

Unfortunately, a surgery doesn't always go as planned--and so it was with my new hip. While the nurses were moving me to a different bed in the recovery room, the new ball joint slipped out of the new socket. I don't ever recall screaming as loud as I did at that given moment. After making several attempts to slip it back into place, the doctor began screaming...at the anesthesiologist to put me under again. What a circus that must have been!

Later that evening the doctor explained to me that I would be in traction for at least the next three weeks and then would begin physical therapy if all went well. While he was still chattering away, I noticed the nurse walk into the room carrying a set of sheets. Is she seriously thinking about changing the bedding? There was no way that I felt like being juggled around, especially the day of this catastrophe.

The doc must have seen me eyeing the nurse and said to her, "That will not be necessary." But as soon as he walked out the door, she started stripping the bed. I was totally dumbfounded that she would go against what I considered "doctor's orders." When I yelled at her to stop and tried reaching for the "help" button, she blatantly told me, "Don't be such a WUSS." I don't know who was having the worse "bad hair day," me or her.

Then she created the ultimate sin--she insulted my mother, who wasn't even there to defend herself. She had been there, but was home taking care of my babies. To my dismay, TC had also stepped out of the room to speak with the doctor.

"What kind of mother do you have that wouldn't even get you vaccinated for polio?"  I won't share with my readers the response, but you can imagine how I felt at that very moment. Needless to say, the tears flowed. I don't recall her name, but I can still see the looks she gave me.

I imagine that the anesthesia had something to do with my crying, but I hadn't stopped when the respiratory therapist arrived to assist me with breathing exercises. He must have known the second he saw me that he definitely had a situation which needed to be resolved. Once he heard my tale of the nurse, he insisted that I report her to a supervisor, which I did.

For the next six weeks, she never stepped foot into my room. In fact, I didn't know if she was still on the same floor.

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 50--The Pain)

I saw a specialist within the next several weeks, but never did I realize that it would take almost a year from the time my daughter was born until I would get a new hip joint. There were so many tests that had to be run on every inch of my body it seemed. The muscles, the nerves, and the bones all had to succumb to the twisting, bending, and probes of the experts who would determine my fate.

Meanwhile, the excruciating pain grew by the minute. I tried various pain killers, but they did nothing more than make me drowsy, which was not a good symptom while trying to teach. It was several months, though, before any students realized that I wasn't my usual self. Once they discovered what was wrong, they volunteered to do every task for me that they possibly could. They were the best!

During one of many appointments with my orthopedic surgeon, he explained to me that it was considered unethical by medical standards to replace a joint in someone as young as I was. (almost 30 years old) Joint replacements were somewhat new to the medical profession, and it was yet to be determined exactly how long the new hip would last. If I were to look through rose-colored glasses, it would hopefully have a lifespan of 15 years. Yikes!!

As he took me by the hand, he asked me to talk to him as though he were my husband and to tell him how bad the pain really was by giving him examples and not using a scale of 1 to 10. I thought about it for a moment.

"I know that I have an extremely high tolerance for pain, but my 16-pound daughter was walking at 8 1/2 months because it hurt too much to even lift or carry her. I cry myself to sleep every night because of the pain and wake up in the morning with tears in my eyes as though I've been crying all night."

He squeezed my hands gently while affirming, "I'll schedule the surgery for as soon as possible."

To be continued...

Conquering Obstacles (Part 49--My Mother's Secret)

I loved my job; I loved my husband; I loved my life. I was living the fairy tale of my dreams. First along came a bouncing baby boy, followed by a beautiful baby girl, two new loves of my life. At the time of my children's births, my mother always asked me how I was feeling. I found that somewhat odd but didn't give it much thought at the time.

Three or four months after my daughter Janelle was born, my leg began to hurt. At first I shrugged it off as a pulled muscle; however, when it didn't subside, I thought that perhaps I had a blood clot and made an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon. After viewing the x-rays, he casually told me, "I won't touch you because I cannot help you."

He further explained that my hip joint had slipped out of the socket more than likely during childbirth and was gradually tearing its way through my muscles and nerves with every step I took. He assured me, though, that he would refer me to a surgeon who could help me. Great, just great! This is NOT fair! I have two wee ones (and one big fella) that need me.

Driving home that afternoon, I remembered my mother's question, "How are you feeling?" She knew--she knew all along that this was a possibility, didn't she? But how did she know and why didn't she forewarn me? I was upset with her even though it unquestionably wasn't her fault that this had happened.

Later that evening after explaining the situation to Terry, I telephoned my mom to give her the bad news. There was no confrontation because she admitted immediately that she knew this could happen. The doctors at the Shriner's Hospital had told her that the hip would eventually wear out of the socket, but they thought it best to leave it as it was. It could last for tens of years; in addition, I had perhaps not finished growing yet which would cause further problems and possible surgeries which they couldn't perform because I would be beyond the age of 16, the limit set by the hospital.

When I asked her why she hadn't told me this before,  she quietly responded, "Why worry when there is no reason? We only worry when the time comes. You'll be back to feeling normal soon."

I truly believed that my mother was always right and knew everything there was to know; but  in this case, not even she could predict what lied ahead for me.

To be continued...