Greyhound: Never Doing That Again

                You think I may have learned from my last Greyhound excursion (here) that it wasn’t that great of an experience from Portland to Salt Lake.  But I decided to give them another shot.  I thought it might be a fun experience for Jaime to try.  It would be the first time I brought my own companion on the bus. I had never done that before.

          I had purchased the tickets online. I decided the word “Flixbus” means “small”.  Searching the internet further leads me to believe it is the Flixbus that is the coach bus (with more leg room offered than on airlines) and the Greyhound is a petite upgrade from school bus. I have ridden coach buses before and I have ridden school buses.  The bus from Portland to Salt Lake was closer to school bus as far as the amount of space for passengers.  It was definitely smaller than three of the buses Jaime and I took to get to Salt Lake three weeks ago.  But still . . . There was only one coach bus.  The seats are marked with this sign

Yea, right!  Unless the passenger buttocks is the size of the average middle schooler, there is no flipping way a seatbelt is going to fit across a person.  Get real!

 I had ridden the bus before.  I’d gone back to Virginia on Trailways at the time Greyhound bought them out.  I don’t recall the bus size being so smooshed as opposed to eight years ago or three weeks ago.  But then I was a lot smaller in 1987 than I was eight years ago to currently. 

Eight years ago I caught the bus in Roseburg at a gas station where there were benches outside.  This year it was at the parking lot of an abandoned grocery store.  There was nowhere to sit.  No one to talk to.  Nowhere to pay.  What the hey?

          The bus lines would like passengers to believe that there is a restriction on size and weight of luggage – but for the most part we (the passengers) were required to put the luggage on and take it off ourselves.  Driver did not enforce the size or weight regulation. Doesn't seem to matter whether one specifies assigned seating as that isn't enforced either.

          We did ride a Coach Bus (the Flixbus that wasn’t marked as a Greyhound)  from Hermiston (not mapped) to Boise.  Why is it that we had to take four buses?  And why through Seattle instead of Portland?  There was a bus in Hermiston going to Portland, so why not from Portland to Hermiston?  Why the tour of southern Washington state?  Granted, it was pretty – but it was 8 – 12 hours we could have been in Utah and not on Greyhound's upgraded equivalent of a school bus.

          We had a four and a half hour layover in Seattle. 4 1/2 hours! Theoretically the station wouldn’t open until 5:00 a.m. and we had arrived just before 4:00.  Fortunately someone came to open the doors at four.  My bladder was most grateful for that call.

          Before we left the house, Richard had told me to fill my pockets with change.  I had selected a pair of shorts that seemed big on me without the weight of the change – but with all that money in my pockets, I definitely needed a belt so that my pants wouldn’t fall off my body. It was in Seattle where my change came in handy as there were vending machines that offered snacks and Jai and I were both hungry for something other than what we had brought with us.

          We did have some good experiences and some not so pleasant moments – but we were safe and we were grateful.  I had looked into other options for our return as I really didn’t wish to return the way we came. But because of all the fires that happened while we were away, we may have not had that option anyway.

Big Brother is Watching

           Quite recently my brother became a target of what one may have considered a funny prank.  Something had landed on his head.  Something gross.  It had been delivered intentionally.  He had a nagging feeling to share with his manager what  had taken place figuring that nothing could be done.  He’d forgotten about the video cameras that surrounded the area. 

          Security was called and the culprit was caught.  The culprit had known he was wrong for his act of disgust.  Before he “delivered” his “gift” he had looked around to make certain that no one was watching.  Evidently he had no taken the cameras into consideration either.  Corey had the option to press charges but declined and never met his offender.  His boss had given him the option of going home to recuperate – which he did eventually.

          It wasn’t just the actions of having something gross land on his head at work that had bothered him.  It was so many experiences of his time in junior high (which he unfondly refers to as four years of hell;  his experience started in sixth grade and ended in 9^th) when he felt tormented and bullied by others.  Back in a day before personal computers and laptops and smartphones.  Back in a day when there was no other options offered for education such as doing school online.  Corey would have been quite comfortable with that.

          Today people capture moments with their cell phones or some other recording device to upload on YouTube. No longer just a security footage but public spectacle.  One may laugh at the perfect aim planted to Corey’s head while others may snark at those who find it funny.  How many perpetrators have been caught when their actions go viral? 

          It’s a different world now.  Why don’t we all make the best of it?  Live each moment as if we were on hidden camera.  

What is it we want to be remembered for?  I would hope for kindness.  It really doesn’t take a lot.  A smile.  An encouraging word.  Be a friend.

Pieces of Memories

      When it first came out I remember being interested in seeing the TV series “This is Us” but did not start watching it until this year for whatever reason.  Normally I don’t enjoy constant flashbacks but have been intrigued with this series about three siblings who have become adults.  We see pieces of memories as they enter the world and grow up.  We see their parents struggles as well as their own.  It’s been interesting to watch as their characters are developed based on these memories that the audience members see only glimpses of. Each episode provides a recap of what memories were provided from previous episodes. 

The first episode starts off with four different cast members reacting to birthday celebrations.  The first story shows a pregnant woman holding a cupcake while her husband (Jack, the birthday boy) waits for her on the bed.  Her water breaks and they rush to the hospital where the woman is expected to give birth to triplets.  Their names will be Kevin, Kate, and Kyle. Each child is shown as an adult also celebrating his/her birthday except for Kyle who was a stillborn. In the nursery are three babies – Kevin, Kate and an infant that had been abandoned at a firehouse but brought to the hospital and in need of parents.  Jack makes a connection and the third baby is brought home along with Kevin and Kate.

At first they call the baby Kyle but eventually change in name to Randall.  We learn why in a later episode. Although the three of them were raised in Pittsburg, Kevin and Kate have moved to Los Angeles.  Kevin has an acting gig with a show called “The Manny”.  Kate attends weight loss meetings.  Only Randall remains on the east coast near to his mom.  Jack is deceased.

I have looked at this series with admiration thinking how each of us has memories we share with those we grew up with as well as memories that set us apart from those we grew up with.  For example, I have created memories in Oregon that I can share with my sibs, but they will never be their memories.  I can share past memories with my sibs that neither Roland nor Jenna will ever have a first account of.  The memories will come in bits and pieces that connect us together though we are still sorting through bits and pieces and do not have the entire picture linked together.

I love how my niece captured this with her words in her first blog post which she has now made private.  Fortunately I still have some of her posts.  In her introduction, she said:  

“My hope is that bits and pieces will seep into this blog slowly over time until my life experiences culminate into something that looks like a finished puzzle.”  (Ellen/Whitney)

Looking forward to seeing the picture unveiled and meanwhile trying to enjoy the journey of fitting the pieces together.

A Fork in the Road

            Many of us may have a destination in mind.  Some are fortunate enough to choose a path that they wish to follow.  For others, it may seem that life threw them a curve ball and the path they are on is not one of their choosing.  For example, you may be in a car accident on your way to work.  You may experience back injuries that will stay with you for the rest of your life.   

            You may have a son who is a victim of a knife wound that damaged his brain.  He can still carry on a conversation, even an intelligent one, but his social skills will always be like that of a nine-year-old and it will be frustrating for you to watch a forty-year-old man resort back to his immature childish reactions.  He might not be embarrassed when others snicker at him but perhaps you are.

           

            Your mother may get Alzheimer's or another form of dementia. She forgets names and events.  Her reality takes her back to another place in time - a time that you, yourself, have not experienced.  Her reality and yours are no longer the same. 

            Your niece had made plans of attending a more prestige high school in another city, but your sister gets pregnant with her second child.  Your niece now has to attend the local high school as your sister is now on bed rest and unable to drive her to the other school every day.

            Or you recently started having seizures and have been to several hospitals and doctors in less than a year and end up in a wheelchair.  You are not even seventeen.  This path you're on was definitely not part of your plan.

            Or your spouse dies three years after you marry and your only child hasn't even turned two yet.  Of course, all of these statistics affect many people.  We become caregivers or call on others to assist.  We don't wish to be a burden to anyone, nor do we wish to have our lives disrupted - not only emotionally but many feel financially drained as well.  So why does it happen?

            Why do some lose their minds at such a young age while others live to be old and just as sharp as ever?  Why are some more physically fit than others who have worked so much harder to stay in shape?  Why do some people always seem to have money while others struggle from paycheck to paycheck and never seem to get ahead?

            We might not be able to choose our trials, but we can choose our reaction - though at times displaying a positive attitude seems to be more of a challenge than our situation.  I feel bad for not being in Utah to be with my great aunt and uncle.  When my daughter-in-law passed, we went back for the funeral.  When my great uncle passed, we did not. 

            My great aunt has always been in good health and aware of his surroundings.  Her hearing had declined over the years - but she was sharp.  Both her and my uncle until his dying day.  She took a fall one Easter back in 2013.  She was in a rehab center for a while in 2013 and seemed to be getting better.  She passed the center and returned to her house. She gradually declined after that.  My cousins and family have been taking care of her.  In a way, I wish I was there to help them.  In a way, I am grateful that I have an excuse to not have to go through it again.

            Attitude is everything.  I pray that I may always have a grateful attitude.  Especially when I don't understand why the destination of the path doesn't look the same as where I thought I (or we) was/were headed.