Seniors Handle Change though Not Very Well

When I taught in the senior program, our supervisor cautioned us that seniors don't handle change well.  Now that I am one, I have found this to be true.
A monkey wrench got thrown into our regular routine in the form of a hot water heater suddenly becoming defunct.  Although the heater guy tried to simply install a part, it did not work.
This was little awkward, since our gran-daughter's fifth birthday party was scheduled for the next day, and although we are generally late go-to-bedders and late-morning sleepers, Sunday is generally a day I make an exception, especially when choir is up and running.  So, sure, I'd be willing to be up for the hot water heater guy, even if it was forty minutes ahead of schedule for a Sunday.  The idea of actually making it to the Sunday Service was out of the question.  It's a small church, so if you're not there, people notice. But I told Bill that Jesus said you have to pull the cow out of a ditch even on the "Sabbath", and he said, he thought it was an ox.  I agreed, he was probably right; it was an ox. I even tried to prove it later, by checking a Biblical Concordance, under calf (cow), ox, ditch... and I could NOT find it.  So, I said I didn't really know if  Jesus actually said it.  Bill said he did. (Something about the Sabbath was made for Man (ahem, and women, too) not Man (um...women?) for the Sabbath.)
After dealing with the hot water heater guy, without much sleep, agreeing that he SHOULD clean out the drain, too, but asking Bill if it was okay to join the preferred customer club after Bill had insisted up and down, he would NOT join.  Suddenly, it was okay to join the club.  Bill was anticipating this question, so he answered, groggily, through his morning insomnia, that yes, we should join the club.  It was then time for a catch-up nap.
Finally, it was almost time to go, after taking a hot shower....yay!  I found my muenster cheese in the kitchen drawer, so had to throw it out. As we were on the road to the park, I realized I forgot the most important thing, Naia's birthday gift!
So, I drove back to get the gift.  I had already been thinking as we left the first time, I should have my camera.  This would have been an opportune time to retrieve it, but no....I forgot to take the camera, again!
(How they looked, anyway)

Bill had claimed he'd only gotten 1/2 hour sleep, due to all the noise. Oh really?  I never would have noticed that he had morphed into a bear! But reality has no mercy. Toddler, Leela, had him running all over, and he was trying to protect her from herself, including the high slides.  She thought it was a game of  get Grandpa to run after her and just try to catch her.

My Day On the Road

 I had to get to the Yarn Spinners (storytellers) meeting, and I thought we (meaning Bill coaching me about following the map) had it all figured out. I turned too soon on MacMillan, and after quite awhile, remembering the landmarks, figured out I'd taken a wrong turn.  So, back I went to Whitehall Road.  Then, I got past Michigan Adventure and turned onto the proper road, Michillinda, where the Merry Maids sign was, then to Nestrom.  I turned left more than once onto South Shore Drive, and finally, asked a senior guy, in a wet swimsuit, at a bar and grill, where to go.  It seems Nestrom actually also "turns into" a different South Shore Drive. 
The storytellers said I looked good, since I apparently had good coloring, and I said it was high blood pressure.  Two other storytellers came in later, causing me to feel better about myself.
 Looking at the map again, I don't see, even now, how I could have figured it out. 
 Bill and I were both concerned, after all that traveling, that I might run out of gas, but upon returning and stopping at a gas station on Whitehall Road, I called Bill. We figured I could make it. 
 I followed him to the gas station to get a lesson in gas pumping, because I'd gotten away from it for too long.  I didn't want the rocks in one of our heads to simply fill the holes of the other (i.e. dysfunctional couple). When we finally arrived in the gas station store, the folks at the clerk's counter said they had been wondering about the "mysterious" pump #10. Nobody had come in yet to pay, and yet, the car was still parked there.  So now, I am willing to also learn oil changes and tire gauging.
 I'm going to train him on the computer, which he tries to avoid.  He thinks I'm "working", especially with head sets, because that was what he used to do at work. He's been away from the computer too long, on purpose.  Ha! 

I'd Have Your Back If You'd Had Mine

   "Fire!!..." yelled Beuregard, the dog, when he was asked, "If that guy carries the hose, what do you do?"
  He replied that he yelled, "Fire!" when there was one.
  When I was a 10-11 year old girl, reading Pogo books for $1, I had no idea that Walt Kelly, the cartoonist, was writing satire.  I laughed, anyway.
  Although Walt tended toward the left in politics during the 60's, picturing an hyena, resembling Spiro Agnew, this particular set of frames in the 50's, satirized unions.  It was a little absurd, as the firefighters took off weekends and worked only eight hours during the day.  They wouldn't allow themselves to be taken advantage of by working weekends and nights, so they were basically running around, the dog and the rabbit carrying the hose, acting "as if" they had something to do, looking for more conveniently-scheduled fires.
   I'm still in a bit of a quandary regarding unions. Neither I nor my husband had union protection, and our lives were consequently, precarious, indeed.
   Broadcasters were few, and bosses often paid low or threatened not to pay at all.  Among themselves, it was something like the Big Brother House on T.V., where there was a continual, "watch your back" game of frequent elimination.  Doing well and getting your name in the paper meant being targeted, as well.
   Teaching, based on numbers in attendance, was quite stressful, and we had to go out as a sales team recruiting students.  Heaven forbid displeasing students, once you had them, in any way!  You might lose your class, at least, for the next term.  Some nights for adult education and weekends for children's drama were a must.  If you hired a substitute for a night, you found out you weren't getting paid, though you set it all up.
   Once you'd spent all the time you could in that capacity, after a unionized teacher bumped you out of a job for which you'd just been hired, you returned to subbing.  There, you had to listen to unionized teachers in the lounge talking about job auctions you hadn't the faintest idea how to be included in, sort of a Catch-22 setup, (there appeared to be a proverbial moat with alligators surrounding personnel, since experienced teachers cost more) or how some dumb sub had messed up yesterday's class, because they weren't even certified.
   If you were behind a magazine and, after putting down your reading, protested that certain subs were, in fact, certified, the teachers became wide eyed, nervous, and apologetic, explaining they meant most subs. If the sub was certified, like you of course, it showed.
   On that note, one morning, a little plaque on a regular teacher's desk greeted me.  It said, "There's no substitute for a good teacher". If the teacher hadn't considered her backup sub-human, perhaps, she would have had the consideration to keep it at home.
   Working for most charter school situations, on one hand, was hell, after which you'd find you were not adding to your retirement credits.  There were times you had to pay out of pocket for credits for actual teaching and subbing in other states, as well as parochial and adjunct situations, but charters were not covered, so there's a total of a year not counted, as well as arts formats and commercial remedial ones.
   Summer drama, paid by parents, was purgatory.  "We don't want to read this," protested the 5th graders, "After all, we paid for this!"  Another storyteller, who was teaching a writing class, had a couple of students who didn't want to write.
  But if you got into a charter with a purpose, such as the arts, it was close to behavior expected in the 60's. On the other hand, I love the arts and worked at that charter form for awhile after retirement. My gran-daughter, who danced before she could walk, will also be attending there.
   Kudos also to the development of  the Alliance of Charter Teachers and Staff.
   So, since the unions gave me some benefits, while working full time and a half, and I'm benefiting somewhat now, I can't fault them too much.
   But, I've concluded, I never was a public school teacher by nature, anyway, a teaching artist (i.e. as in drama), yes, an artist, definitely. If you offered your drama expertise for an extra-curricular activity, they thanked you, but found it more economical to give it to the social worker.
   Thus, I detach myself from the issue, glad for all the good the unions have done, but knowing I would have had to be a more normal person, rather than an artistic one, (though some artists have been given that rare public teaching opportunity) to have benefited more and been blocked less.
   When I saw a sign in an auto repair shop that said, "If at first you don't succeed, to hell with it.  No use making an ass of yourself", it gave me pause.
   Guess that's why I "fired" myself....(i.e., retired when I did)...and before the subs (I guess the unions didn't want to bother to support their support staff) got privatized.

   Fast forward to the present: Sunday newspaper, March 6, 2016.  I used to think that Karma took too long to prevent major damage.  But I had to chuckle when I saw an advertisement that the private company is presenting, a job fair, calling for substitute teachers.  The employment standards seem to have come down, if they hadn't already, during my tenure.
   Could it be that people don't want to work in the school system, alongside teachers and for teachers without receiving at least partial credit for pension and benefits at the end?  Go figure.

I've Got to Get Organized, or Buried Treasures.

I was told by a writer friend that she'd attended one of those writer conferences, and they advised writing diet books that don't work. Then, to write another one a year later...that doesn't work. That seemed likely, as I've probably read every one of them. 
Well, I think I'd make a good living writing organization books that don't work.
 Like if I'd followed the author's advice, today, I would have set the timer for 15 minutes before tackling the kitchen closet. What was also suspicious was, the author said, make sure you've eaten enough ahead of time in preparation for organizing...for just 15 minutes?
  After 15 minutes, the timer goes off, and all sorts of "stuff" is on the kitchen floor, with a residue of thick dust under it. Also, if I was to go by the author, obeying the timer, I would have left all of it on the floor for the next day's 15 minutes.
 How do you think that would have flown with my husband? 
Took 40 minutes, and that was just a start.
  But, so far, I've found a few treasures, like a beach ball, with which my youngest grand girl has fallen in love, the boots Bill has wondered whereof they had gone for the last two winters, a sack of canned goods to be put out for the mail carrier just in time for yet another request, and....money. 
  Don't get too excited, it was a Movie Theater Popcorn Box, half-filled with nickels.

What are You Playing, Grandpa?

The inevitable happened. Four-year-old Naia finally got to go down to the basement with Grandpa (looking for something that might be wrong with the vent) and discovered what Grandma keeps in her basement: many years accumulation of creative dramatics puppets, props, stuffed animals, and costumes. I figured she'd be overwhelmed if she saw it, and she was. When I replaced my things she'd brought up, I thought of the many years and stories acted out. I guess it's time they get introduced to children's theater.
 (By the way, nothing was wrong with the vent. It was an old aerial t.v. set that got kicked on and was making noises. The thing about that was, it never ever turned itself on, and I could never switched it on ever again - strange.)

...And when Grandpa was sick at home, Naia talked to him on the cell phone and asked him, "What are you playing, Grandpa?" I guess when you play a lot of games with lots of gadgets in your house, and even do magic tricks, grandkids think that all you ever do is play. 
   He himself used to watch his own grand-dad take a deck of cards with him to work, but that was because they were having a strike there, and his grandfather was the foreman. When his grandfather came home, they played games together, so Bill thought that's all he ever did, too. 

Little Naia asked me what I was going to do with Grandpa tonight, and I replied, I don't know. So, she counseled me; I should go home; then, we could eat, then, "play with our toys", then, go to bed. We had a good laugh about it, but when you really think about it; I'm "playing" on the computer; he's "playing" pinball and pool (on a miniature pool table); we watch t.v., read books...She's got it right!

 — feeling entertained.

Once, when she was at a family gathering, she and Grandpa were coloring.  Then, she put one in his hand and left the basement.  She came upstairs, and I asked her where Grandpa was.  Her vocabulary was limited then, so she thought a minute, and said, "Markers".  I figured out where he was and what he was doing.  He'd been left holding a marker, so she thought he'd  entertain himself, coloring alone.

What Ever Happened to S&H Green Stamps?

I woke up this morning in a very good mood, which was surprising, as I'd gotten up with the clock radio music.  This was so I could get to choir.  In other words, I didn't have the luxury of sleeping in.
A little ditty kept going through my head as I prepared my coffee in Mr. Coffee.  It was a song which my brothers used to bring home to sing while they were still in college, to the tune of "Greensleeves".
"Green Stamps were all she gave.
Green Stamps were all I took.
Green Stamps were all I saved,
And I pasted them all in my Green Stamp Book."
I thought, "Boy, that sure dates me!"
Then, I thought of my daughter and me, pasting the accumulated stamps in the books, with our tongues turning green.  She said, she didn't like it, but she did it "to get all the stuff".  But then, I thought, "Gee, that even dates my daughter," whom I consider a young mom. 
Then, I thought about my early married life, when I'd accumulated enough stamps to put into books, from whence I bought a hair dryer.  Now, understand, I'm not talking hair blower...hair dryer.  You sit on your couch with curlers in your hair.  I didn't even need curlers.  My hair is naturally curly, but we women succumbed to pressure, so we all thought we needed them. This balloon puffs up around your head, attached to something that looks like the back of a clothes dryer, and you busy yourself with something, like maybe, reading recipe books,. That was because newly married women like me, didn't know "diddly squat". Still don't. 
Then, I realized, "Even the hair dryer dates me."
So, what ever happened to S&H Green Stamps!

After Listening to Chris Hayes

I'll agree that a lot of smart, successful people don't finish college, but my problem with Walker is his entire ATTITUDE toward people who do value education.

I figure my dreams are my business, but after seeing things on friend face, about Walker taking down UW, my home away from home when I was merely an "aspiring" college student, (i.e. high school in a nearby town) this is what I dreamed.

I had a college classroom, as a teacher, without books.  I had a hard time figuring out what I was supposed to be teaching, something about "literature in expression".

So, I went around interviewing students to see what they had to offer.  It was time for finals, and I didn't know what to test them on.

Then, a whole bunch of new students popped up, and I told them they'd have to re-enroll for next semester.  I even told the same information to my youngest grandchild, and because she's only two, I explained it to her by saying, the "next time frame".

I felt like a failure, a teacher in training, and didn't realize the problem was having no books in the first place.