Rambling Thoughts, Changes and Observations

Each morning as Jenna and I walk to the bus, we notice the sprinklers watering the lush green grass on the corner   

and I think how nice it would be to have lush green grass.

Never in my life has the yard outside of whatever house I’ve lived in, has there been lush green grass inviting my bare feet to run through it.

For the most part, if ever I have been brave enough to go barefooted, my feet scream at me and remind me that there are dry patches among the green but still non-lush.

I find that when I just wear sandals outside of the last two houses I have lived, the thorns and stickweed chock the life out of whatever we’d like to be growing. 

They scratch at my feet and my legs and imbed themselves
 into the soles of my shoes and often hitch rides into the house.

We did not water this year.  Water pressure is down 
devoting four hours a day to my less than promising lawn was not a priority.  Rather a waste of time
 (and water)

Our yard actually does not much worse than it has the years we have tried to nurture.

I ride the bus.

I notice many buses seem to be coming out of retirement.

They’re not all old relics.  But I was on one the other day that had the vinyl blue seat

The same vinyl seats I remember from the first time I had ever taken the bus.

But that was over 30 years ago.  Surely it’s not that old.

But the seats seemed to be closer to the floor

As my knees seemed more bent and up in my face somehow

And there was no legroom – or perhaps it just seemed that way because the seats are so close to the floor.

Sometimes those relics are used for training purposes. 

I have been a passenger on buses in which the driver is still training.

I wonder how long it takes to train before they get to be out on their own.

UTA offers more than 100 routes.  I don’t know how many buses are needed for each route. 

I would guess more than a thousand buses. 

Some have been in recent crashes.

Some have just given out for whatever reason.

That’s a lot of buses – not to mention the flex buses and ski buses and whatever else.

When we got to the school, Jenna made some comment about what she’s learning

I don’t remember what it was, but I questioned it and compared to my own upbringing.

“It’s a different century mom.”

She’s right.  Both my mom and I had gone to school in the 20^th century.

Jenna wasn’t even born until the 21^st. 

Not the way she meant it, but it made me think.

We really are going two schools in two different centuries

I’ve brainstormed thoughts for a while now. 

But I either couldn’t sit down to form sentences

Or was just too tired to.

I have lacked motivation.

The weather is changing.

I wear a jacket to the bus stop

and when we walk to the school

But it usually comes off before I cross the street

to catch the return bus home

 

I prefer the cool weather.

I don’t like it when it’s hot.

I haven’t melted yet.

That’s something.

A True Story That Makes Me Laugh

 

All three or my boys were in high school at the time.  (I don’t remember if I had given birth to Jenna yet) They were 15, 16, and 17.  My husband often referred (and still does) to the 15 year old as Casper as he had a way of disappearing for every chore.

One night Biff and Tony were washing dishes when Randy went on one of his disappearing jaunts.  He had excused himself to get music – or perhaps it was already playing – his idea of music anyway.

Biff and Tony listened to Soft Jazz and oldies.  Randy listened to what kids his age would listen to – I guess.  Still listens to bizarreness with no beat really.  I don’t care for what he thinks of as music.  Apparently neither did his brothers.

As Biff and Tony (who are both older than Randy – but only by one of two years) continued to do dishes they went into discussion about how Randy was of another generation.  I started laughing.  So they tried to correct their mistake by saying, “Well, kids that are Randy’s age” which made me laugh all the more.

“You guys are all actually of the same generation and pretty close in age.”  I reminded them.  Still, they were convinced that the distance between them and Randy was the same as between them and Jenna.   She’s technically the same generation also, but there is a distance between technology and current events. 

Academically, Randy and Jenna seem the brightest.  Biff has innocence and can often recognize things that the others overlook.  Tony is currently the only one with children – well one daughter.  But long before he even thought of getting married, he was the only prepared for changing diapers.  Still is.  He’s the only one of my three boys who would change Jenna – though Biff took a stab at it, the change was unsuccessful as he couldn’t figure out how to work the diaper.

Having them believe their age is so much greater always cracks me up when I think about that night when they were doing dishes.

It’s Okay if You Want to Celebrate her Birthday Twice This Month

          I’m not really sure why I was the privileged one put on the mailing list for Alpine Ridge.  Perhaps I had made the request – but it would have been over four months ago.

          I received a letter last month informing me that I would have the opportunity to meet with a director and nurse if I had any questions concerning mom.  I assumed that my three sibs would be getting the same letter.  They never did.

          And just the other day, I received a calendar schedule for this month – first one that has come in the mail since January when we took mom there to live.  Really?  I remember asking about them back in March – but I never received a hard copy of one.  I did find one on the web and have looked at it and will still refer to it as I sometimes misplace my hard copy – but I am still puzzled at why I would receive these things and not my sibs. Surely they have that information for my brothers.

          I may have given my address to the director back in December – before we had even moved mom in.  Though I don’t remember having provided them with it.  But still.  That was six months ago!

          Anyway, the calendar has my mom’s birthday marked on the calendar for yesterday – but really it isn’t until the end of this month. I mentioned it to the activities director – just in case there was a mix up on her paper work.  Right now I don’t guess it really matters much when her birthday is celebrated or if celebrated at all. 

          Last month mom told me that she decided she was 62.

          “Oh, you decided that?”

          “Yes.  That is how old I am”

          Great.  That means she gave birth to me when I was only eleven.

          Yesterday she informed me that she is 174.  That is the same age at Harold.

Another Guilty Pleasure

We haven’t always had cable – cancelled due to lack of finances – we’ve even cancelled the Internet.  I was okay with going to the library, but Roland wasn’t.  And now that he’s taking classes through the Internet – dropping the Internet would just frustrate him even more.

When so many stations were converted to HD and even the local channels needed some kind of box or connection, it seems like we always had TVland.  For a while it was our primary source of entertainment.  That, and going to the library for offered programs and to check out DVDs.

The station has added original programs including a reality show called “ForeverYoung”. The advertisements intrigued me, but I hadn’t watched it when it initially debuted.  But I did check it out yesterday. I was laughing so hard at watching these two (obviously) generations try and communicate.  Having lived between the two, I understand the frustration of the other – also having had to experience it myself.

Jenna is often asking, “Did they have such and such when you were little?” 

“Yes, we had Fisher Price people.  They weren’t made of plastic, they were made of wood.  They were smaller than what is offered now. “

“No we did not have iPods.  We didn’t even have CD’s.  We had phonographs and walkmans.

“No we did not have DVD’s.  I don’t recall the VCR coming out until I was a teenager.”

“Yes. We had cracker jacks.  But they offered cool prizes back then – well, at least compared to the lame prize that comes with cracker jacks today”

“No, we did not use slates back then.  We used paper. How old do you think I am?”

“There was an Electric Company.  But it didn’t come out until after Corey was born. It was different from what you watch today” (I had actually checked out a DVD from the library not realizing it was from the ‘70’s.  She couldn’t stand it)

She is far more superior at modern technology than I am.  She has found things on my phone that I didn’t even know existed.  She prefers Roland’s phone with his touch screen.  Roland is older than me and seems comfortable using his cell phone, but I hate it.  I actually have small fingers (one of the few parts of my body I can still refer to as small) but put me in front of a touch screen and they become clumsy fat hot dogs.  I can never find where I need to go and get so frustrated in trying to do so.

I appreciate the GPS – and the one that we had was not complicated and much easier to use than the map.  But I have used street maps before.  I must admit that I have texted messages – but it annoys me to go through each letter at a time – I’d much rather have a keyboard.  I do own a cell phone but started out dialing a rotary. 

I haven’t been on roller blades – but I know what they are.  I also remember the old time roller skate that fit over the shoe.  I owned several pairs of shoes with marks left from the roller skate that I used to glide around in my parents’ unfinished basement.

I’m actually too young to remember the car seat that my parents used vs. the ones that are out today.  Mine hung over the seat – front seat.  Mine was yellow.  It did not have the cool steering wheel feature built into it.  There was no car seat law that I know of.  Often the cars themselves didn’t come with safety belts for the driver – let alone the passengers.

I remember black and white television and a very limited amount of channels selection.  I remember life without Sesame Street and Sesame Street without Elmo.  In fact, I remember the original cast featured only four human beings.  And I remember three different Gordons. I can remember that Sesame Street did not explain Mr. Hooper’s death until a year after the fact.

I remember the world before computers made their way into just about every home.  I remember the ancient television sized monitors unlike the flat screens of today. I remember the manual typewriter and the cool features of the new electric ones.  

I remember cameras that required film.

I do like this “Forever Young” reality show that introduces “bridging the gap” and demonstrating that we really can learn from one another regardless of age.

To Everything There is a Season

          For the first time I recently watched “The Odd Life of Timothy Green” – I’m certain it was involved with a lot more symbolism than what I saw.  Timothy came to his mom and dad in the spring and had to leave when the last leaf fell in the fall. 

          I was crying hard as the show came to an end – nothing to do with Timothy Green or his departure or anything to do with the movie at all.  Just reminiscing the long fall that was present during the last five months of 2012 – symbolizing the same fall as my mother and each of us seemed to be going through with her. Her leaves were falling more rapidly each day – and then came the harsh winds of winter. And it’s been cold.  Bitter cold.

          She will never return to spring again.  Not in this life anyway.  The only way she can have spring again is if daddy returns for her.  That may be a long time from now.

          I had no idea that the 8^th would be her last good day.  Our last day as Lucy and Ethel.  She seemed almost comatose after that.  And had passed out at least three times.  And then she was hospitalized. And when I brought her home, she wouldn’t accept it.  I don’t think it would have mattered where I had taken her.  She wouldn’t have wanted to stay.  She certainly doesn’t want to be in the memory care unit that Kayla drove her to. Where she needs to be.

          She sits in the community like a child starting his first day of kindergarten – willing to participate as long as at least one family member is in sight.  Panic sets whenever that family member has left – or so the child believes.

          She doesn’t understand that we’ve moved her in there for her own good – for protection as well as consistency.  She’s safe. She’s not alone.  But somehow – even if she does accept it, she doesn’t retain for even a full minute.

          George and Peggy Bird came to visit mom while Jenna and I were still with her.  I took it as an opportunity to slip out without mom being irate or hurt over it.  Peggy asked if she had had any other visitors.  Mom said no.  Even though Jenna and I were probably still just in the parking lot.

          I think I may be in the fall of my life right now.  I think these winter storms may have pushed me into fall ahead of schedule.  I hope it’s a long fall and that my leaves shine brilliant colors for a long while before the winds set in.  And hopefully my children won’t have to watch me experience the harshness of winter but may enjoy the peace of the falling snow. 

          If I could lose just one ounce per tear – just an ounce – I would have disappeared by now.  I don’t wish to cry anymore.  Lucy wants more time with Ethel – the way it was.

          Today is Kayla’s birthday.  She’s just started the summer of her life.  It looks like it will be summer for a while.  Happy Birthday, Kayla!

McDonald’s: an Evolution of Perception

          When we are children and don’t know any better, we believe that McDonald’s is the greatest thing.  Oh, sure, perhaps we’re too busy at the play center or enjoying the toy that falls apart long before we have finished whatever lame meal was ordered.  What did we know about nutrition?  It wasn’t even in our vocabulary.

          Teenagers seemed divided.  It’s fast, it’s cheap, close enough to the high school or jr. high.  Given the right time of the day . . . not that I think of it as a hangout – not in your larger cities anyway.  Not with a playland and 30 screaming kids.

          “It’s not where you take a girl on a date,” says Randy.  Although I could picture Tony doing that very thing – and not with a limo and candles (which Randy said was too cheesy – why spend the money on a limo?  Why not just better quality food?  Have to agree with that part.

          Biff likes the yogurt parfaits.  That’s about it.  Even at thirteen (when he was seriously a better eater than he is now) he saw McDonald’s food as something that would clog the arteries.  And it would take years and years to undo the damage.  I think Biff views McDonald’s as the gateway to suicide.

          As adults we would prefer NOT to go to McDonald’s.  It’s fine to take the kids when they’re younger, but as they get older?  Come on.  Surely we can come up with better food – even if McDonald’s does seem the only thing in the budget.

          Children don’t seem to   appreciate home cooked meals.  Going out just seems so much more prestige – even if it is McDonald’s.

          I recall the first time the boys had Alfredo sauce.  Neither Biff or Tony (who literally eats anything but chicken) seemed unimpressed, but Randy (who always expressed his gratitude and appreciative thoughts and anything to be the center of attention) said (and he genuinely did mean it as a compliment) "This tastes like restaurant food”

          Randy was grateful to eat something other than the budget meals that they had before I met Roland.  And he really did like it even if Biff and Tony weren’t all that impressed.

          I think it is the prices at McDonald’s that draw in the senior citizens.  I remember dad thinking McDonald’s was pretty good.  And mom, who, for so many year has said, “I don’t want to eat at McDonald’s.” didn’t seem to mind it the other day when Jenna announced that’s where she wanted to go.  I certainly wasn’t up for McDonald’s food, but that’s where we ended up and “grandma” didn’t seem to mind. 

          I guess by definition of the AARP I turned into a senior citizen at the end of May this year.  But my love for McDonald’s (should I ever have one) is so far into the future that I think my taste buds will have to be further gone than I am.

          On the up side: McDonald’s does provide housing for families for children who are in hospitals closer to the hospital than their own houses.  The paper products used by McDonald’s are supposedly all recyclable.  Big Macs, for instance, used to come in a Styrofoam carton.  Styrofoam is not recyclable. Therefore it was changed to cardboard.  Though I think more ends up in the “garbage” than in the “recycling” – how can a product all covered in fatty food possibly be recycled?

          There are a lot of pluses to McDonalds – possibly more than down sides.  They may have a bad rap with many.  But there will always be that genuine love among the children and senior citizens.

Congratulations to all of those who made it passed junior high

Being a youth (Jr. High age) is such an awkward part of our lives.   Everything is taken literally and there is so much tragedy and devastation.  Too young to be adults but yet too old to be considered children – or treated as such.  Often being told to “act your age” when it’s so obvious that people that age have never been that age before and have no knowledge of how to act.

          As adults we can literally look back upon all those "painful" memories and realize that what we thought was so important really isn't.  I think if a person can make it through junior high, he or she has put behind the most awful part of their social lives behind them, and can move on to become actual human beings.

Recently I read the juvenile fiction The Strange Case of Origami Yoda by Tom Angleberger - written from the students' point of view. I laughed so hard – not just at the words, but at the illustrations.  But you really do have to be in the right frame of mind to enjoy it. 

I tried to read it to Jenna, but there’s too much of it that she has yet to go through and just doesn’t understand my laughter at this time – and may not get it when she is that awkward stage of her life.  I hope that I can help her overcome her struggles so that hopefully she can deal with the “pain” a lot better than I did.  But then she has always been a lot more mature academically.  Perhaps with my encouragement she will be socially, too.