Showing posts with label economy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label economy. Show all posts

Monday, February 11, 2019

Dash #47 Beth Rankin


  

It seems the answer to this question would define her dash more than my own.  But here goes:

        I may have mentioned before that when I lived in Kearns, the residents were given the option of purchasing a can for recycling. At that time, we had a household of five and then six.  Our trash can was ALWAYS full – often the day AFTER garbage day.  As our family needed the extra space, I opted to receive (and pay for) the can.  Two years the purchase of a recycled can was no longer an option.  Everyone received cans – only the mandatory cans were smaller than the initial one I had purchased (or leased rather).

          I tried to be conscience of recycling products, but wasn’t a fanatic about it.  I would sometimes get on the case of my boys or husband (who still hasn't grasped the concept) annoyed that they couldn't get it, but even Jenna had it down by the age of three.

          Two years before we moved to Oregon, I met Beth Rankin for the first time. She and Roland had met through high school band and she asked if she could meet with us as she passed through Salt Lake on her way to moving to Oregon. I remember the day well.  It was mom's fourth day at St. Marx hospital - which really has nothing to do with Beth.  Just that we had met at Firehouse Subs because I could make it on the way to the hospital and both were near Roland's place of work.

          Beth introduced us to her husband, Graham, and Roland introduced me to them (I was the last one to arrive, first to leave our luncheon). Although I didn't realize it at the time, I had met one of the most eco-friendly people on this planet.

          Beth Rankin lives in McMinnville and had taken us on a tour of the Habitat for Humanity - a site that allows people to dump and pick up supplies for home repair, gardening and those types of things.  Since she has lived here, she has joined several community organizations and chapters.  She opened a business to help the farmers with their product. It's been an interesting journey.  I love Beth so much, not because of her overly conscience efforts to recycle, but the wisdom that she shares with others and turning so many ordinary moments into teaching moments.  It's great!

        Whenever Roland messes up on recycling, I tell him that I will tell Beth on him.  Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to carry a lot of weight.

To learn more about Beth and her causes you can read her blog here and other sites here, here, and here.







Friday, March 2, 2018

You Can't Go Home Again



            As a child I remember hearing idioms such as "a penny for your thoughts", "too big for your breeches", and "you can't go home again".  What????  I thought adults were such morons.  First of all, I was always certain that my thoughts were worth more than just a penny.  "breeches" was a term we hadn't used and so I had no idea what that was.  And "you can't go home again"?  Of course, you can.  In my childish mind, I took the phrase literally.  If I went to a neighbor's house, for instance, I was expected to come home.  Even as a college student I knew that I'd be going home again.  It wasn't until many decades later that I finally figured it out.


            "Home" is not necessarily a residence and family.  The "home" referred to is the past.  It's not just time that has put the distance between us but the evolutions and economical rise and fall that have contributed to a sense of loss as well.  I think this should be a topic for my brother's blog, but as he has not posted to his blog for over two years, I guess I will attempt to write about it on my own.

            He has posted many pictures to facebook.  Mostly memorabilia from 1960's and 1970's.  Even those two decades seemed to have differences in neighborhood and community.  Our Midvale neighborhood was fairly new.  I don't know how many houses existed on the entire street, but I think at least 30 at the top half of the street where we lived.  I remember many pregnant mothers, and all stay-at-home at that.  I knew of only one mother who worked outside of the home.  Other than that each of us seemed to be raised by all of the mothers on our street as there were many children, activities and spending time with one another.

            We all went to the same neighboring newly built elementary school.  Doors were left unlocked on all sides of the school and not just the front door.  School shootings were unheard of.  We didn't have school lockdowns. I think more field trips had been offered in the '60's  than were offered in the 70's when Corey and Kayla attended. But I could be wrong. 

            The Salt Lake Tribune offered pages to announce births and weddings.  We had a black and white TV which offered three stations: NBC, abc, and CBS.  We would drive up to Grandma's house at least once a week.  At that time her house was located behind the capital building.  My brother and I would always have great adventures there with my cousins.  We would explore the house inside and out.  

            Many years after my grandpa had passed and my aunt moved out on her own, the family talked grandma into moving.  It really was a huge house for one person to take care of.  I think even more work was required for the upkeep of the yard.  She did not move until after Corey was born, but he will never have the same memories that I did of that house on Edgecomb Dr. It's really too bad.  I was told that Grandma had contributed to the design of the house.

            I think our visits to Grandma were made more frequently when she moved to Murray.  I was thrilled to learn I could ride my bike there - not that I did it often.  Usually, we went by car, but I can remember taking the bus a few times also.  It was the condominium in Murray that Corey and Kayla might think of as "Grandma's house".  After she passed the condominium was sold.  It's still a sensitive subject for a few family members.

            Spending time with all of my neighbors was part of my childhood.  I remember going to others' houses and they would come to ours.  Our neighbors, the Birds, would take us to American Fork with them in July for the Steel Days parade and activities.  Although it's been several decades since I have been, I am happy to see that this is still a community event - (here

            Jenna has grown up in a society of many working mothers and hasn't always had the option of spending time with neighbors the way that I did.  We don't just drop by on people the way we did then.  Play dates need to be scheduled.  Appointments need to be made. 

            The school she attends in Myrtle Creek is quite different from the ones she'd attend in Salt Lake.  Still, there are lock downs and precautions that didn't seem necessary when I was growing up.  Oh, I'm not saying that wicked things didn't take place during the 60's and 70's, but nothing like they are now.  Corey and I have had a hard time letting go of the house where we were raised.  I saw a picture on facebook recently of two police cars parked in front of a house in my old neighborhood.  The caption warned others that the resident had been recently burglarized.  I'm sorry to read about the intrusion, but it does make it easier for me to deal with losing the house.  There are many members of the neighborhood that I know and still have contact with, but even more that I do not.

            So while many things (both tangible and not) have been lost, others have been gained.  I, for one, am grateful that technology has made the vacuum easier to lift along with other appliances.  Retrieving some items from closet or cupboard seemed to be a chore in itself - but then having to use them to complete the chore . . . well, I am happy I don't have to do the same heavy lifting as my mom or her mom before her.  I am grateful for having so information at my fingertips - literally, but horrified about it at the same time.  Research seems to be so much easier with sites such as Google, but often it seems there is more personal information offered that it seems like an invasion of privacy.  For instance, I don't know the exact location of Roland's two oldest daughters, but perhaps enough that I could track them down if I had the finances or desire to do so.

            They have moved around so often I don't know that they even have a sense of home.  I wonder if they even have any memories of where they'd been and who they've met.  I don't suppose it's easy to "go home again" if you've never had one.

           For more idioms, you can click here for meaning.  Unfortunately, this site does not provide the origin.  Some are self-explanatory.  You are encouraged to look up origins on your own.