One is supposed to feel like spring when it is spring but today I feel like spring. Life has lifted one of it's heavy burdens and created the feeling of being light or lighter. Maybe with a play on words one can say that we are all beings of light but are so encrusted with "crud" that our light has trouble getting out. Today that light shines.
How can little things, like being treated right, cast off enough to enlighten a person? And in reverse, how can being treated badly, make one feel unworthy? We are such insecure beings that we doubt the fact that we are gods and goddesses. (Created in the image…) We believe all the little things that are taking place around us and build our world using them as the building blocks. A lot of these blocks are unstable and unable to hold the weight that we must put on them every day. Little at a time these blocks wear away or crumble, making our structure fragile and insecure.
Well, yesterday a very fragile and insecure foundation block in my life was replaced with a very sturdy and wonderful replacement. Just replacing this one block was able to shore up a large portion of my world. It was wonderful, hence, the feeling of spring.
What if each of us could do this for one other person? Imagine what that would do to the world around us? If we could stabilize one other person or help them to feel good enough about themselves so that they could at least feel the light that burns inside of them.
There are so many people who try to do this and it doesn't always work, why is that? Because they don't hold the key to the block that is crumbling? So does that mean that only the key holders are able to do this for another person? Perhaps but we all need to be there to support the unstable being until the key holder steps up to the plate.
Is it possible to move ahead in life and replace these blocks one's self? All I have been able to do is make sure that the blocks on either side of the crumbling one is sturdy enough to hold the weight put on it by the lack of support created by this problem.
It seems that I have gotten a long way off this wonderful feeling of being a part of the light and feeling whole again. There are still blocks in my life that are in bad shape but at least one of them has been made whole again and no one will know how important this is to my well-being. Life looks hopeful. May all who read this enjoy - spring.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Marker
I have been asked about having a marker on my grave. This is a very interesting subject. Let's look at what it is saying. To have to put my name in stone somewhere must mean that I am worried about being forgotten when I leave this life?
Do you remember your great-grand parents? Is it important to remember them longer than you can think back? When we remember people who have moved on, do we tug on their energy while they are in service somewhere else?
Let's take a walk through a cemetery. If we are in an older section, most of the information has been lost to the elements. Why do you think that this is so, basic recycling of the stones? Or is it a way to help everyone to move ahead without strings attached to a three-dimensional world?
If you are ordering your own headstone, perhaps it is an ego trip where one needs to be remembered by anyone that passes. The people to whom you have left an impression with (favorable or not) will remember you as long as they have memory.
Personally I do not want a marker at all. I plan to be cremated and left in a woods with my friends, the plants that have given me so much over the years. My marker could be my teachings, my students, my books and all the memories that I invoke in the people that I knew.
Now let's look at the big picture. How many markers have my name on them at the present time? Is there one written in Chinese sitting near a temple in Southern China? What kind of a marker was put up in the old west (USA) for me? Was it just two pieces of Manzanita tied together with my bandana? In 1922, did someone put a marker up for the farmer that died under a bridge? (see story called 1922. Found in my older blog. www.maggiebrowneakaphyllisheitkamp.blogspot.com)
Do we need to be remembered for generation after generation? All my genealogy friends can send their opinion to: oakwelherb@aol.com
Do you remember your great-grand parents? Is it important to remember them longer than you can think back? When we remember people who have moved on, do we tug on their energy while they are in service somewhere else?
Let's take a walk through a cemetery. If we are in an older section, most of the information has been lost to the elements. Why do you think that this is so, basic recycling of the stones? Or is it a way to help everyone to move ahead without strings attached to a three-dimensional world?
If you are ordering your own headstone, perhaps it is an ego trip where one needs to be remembered by anyone that passes. The people to whom you have left an impression with (favorable or not) will remember you as long as they have memory.
Personally I do not want a marker at all. I plan to be cremated and left in a woods with my friends, the plants that have given me so much over the years. My marker could be my teachings, my students, my books and all the memories that I invoke in the people that I knew.
Now let's look at the big picture. How many markers have my name on them at the present time? Is there one written in Chinese sitting near a temple in Southern China? What kind of a marker was put up in the old west (USA) for me? Was it just two pieces of Manzanita tied together with my bandana? In 1922, did someone put a marker up for the farmer that died under a bridge? (see story called 1922. Found in my older blog. www.maggiebrowneakaphyllisheitkamp.blogspot.com)
Do we need to be remembered for generation after generation? All my genealogy friends can send their opinion to: oakwelherb@aol.com
Monday, September 3, 2007
Night People
We are trained to respond to deadlines, bells, whistles, alarm clocks from the time that we start school, even sooner if our parents are both in the work force. What does that say about us as a people? Maybe that we are well trained? But what has it done to the spiritual person that lives inside of these bodies?
All my growing up years my father tried to change me from an evening person to a morning person. He talked about how he respected farmers more than people who grew up in cities and towns because they got up early to tend their animals etc. When that didn't make an impression on me, he tried to tease me about my habit of being able to get a lot done in the evening hours and couldn't focus in the mornings. He had a saying that went like this, "Lazy people work the best when the sun is in the west."
I understand all the principles but still my body seems to have a mind of its own. Perhaps there are "evening" people and "morning" people?
I have three children. One is a morning person, who is ready to run the race of the day at 6:00 am. I was so happy when he reached his fourth birthday and could fix his own cold cereal breakfast every morning. He used to get very upset as he got older when we would allow every to stay up late to watch a movie. On the stroke of 9:00 pm, he would fall asleep in the chair, on the floor or anywhere he was at the time, never seeing the endings.
Another one of my children had night and day mixed up most of his life. He hated to get up in the morning but was able to function very well in his afternoons and evenings. There were times that I would find him up in the middle of the night just wandering in the dark, fully conscience, not sleep walking. He is in his forties and can do what society requires but still does his best work after supper.
My daughter told me that she would prefer to work the evening shift at a job but has trained herself to work days. I know for a fact when she goes to a later sift job, she is a happier person.
How come that isn't taken into consideration when one applies for a job?
I did a study to see if being a morning person or a night person had anything to do with birth time, the time of day that one was born. I found no correlation.
I remember when I was working for Farmer's Fire Insurance Company. We had many kinds of home insurance policies. There was New Business, where a house was being insured by these people for the first time. Some of these houses were in the mountains, some in cities and some in the countryside.
Some fancy person had come into this company to "help" it run more efficiently. They had figured out that it take a person .003 seconds to pick up a pencil and .001 seconds to pick up an erasure, ect. Bottom line was that in a working day a person could process 189 new business applications each day. As I mentioned before, we had many different kinds of policies having different time rates that one could complete in a day. I never seemed to make quota so I asked the other people in my department, how they did it. What they told me was that "you tell them what they want to hear." This was interesting. Everyone but Phyllis was making Quota. Could I do this with lying? It was time to work out something that I could live with.
The policies of houses in the mountains had to be mapped out individually to find out what fire zone they were in. This took time and the "Time-management" people had figured this into the factor. One only had to do 58 of these a day. Most of my co-workers hated to go to the maps and look them up. I love to read maps and am rather good at it. I can tell if you live on the east side of the street or the west by your street number so I would trade three for one so these girls didn't have to "think."
As I mentioned, I work best in the afternoon, so my plan was to look all the policies up before I went home at night and process them in the morning. This company started at 7:00 in the morning and closed up at 4:30 in the afternoon. Hey, at 4:30 I'm just starting to hit full speed.
Guess the world isn't made for me or people like me who are evening people?
All my growing up years my father tried to change me from an evening person to a morning person. He talked about how he respected farmers more than people who grew up in cities and towns because they got up early to tend their animals etc. When that didn't make an impression on me, he tried to tease me about my habit of being able to get a lot done in the evening hours and couldn't focus in the mornings. He had a saying that went like this, "Lazy people work the best when the sun is in the west."
I understand all the principles but still my body seems to have a mind of its own. Perhaps there are "evening" people and "morning" people?
I have three children. One is a morning person, who is ready to run the race of the day at 6:00 am. I was so happy when he reached his fourth birthday and could fix his own cold cereal breakfast every morning. He used to get very upset as he got older when we would allow every to stay up late to watch a movie. On the stroke of 9:00 pm, he would fall asleep in the chair, on the floor or anywhere he was at the time, never seeing the endings.
Another one of my children had night and day mixed up most of his life. He hated to get up in the morning but was able to function very well in his afternoons and evenings. There were times that I would find him up in the middle of the night just wandering in the dark, fully conscience, not sleep walking. He is in his forties and can do what society requires but still does his best work after supper.
My daughter told me that she would prefer to work the evening shift at a job but has trained herself to work days. I know for a fact when she goes to a later sift job, she is a happier person.
How come that isn't taken into consideration when one applies for a job?
I did a study to see if being a morning person or a night person had anything to do with birth time, the time of day that one was born. I found no correlation.
I remember when I was working for Farmer's Fire Insurance Company. We had many kinds of home insurance policies. There was New Business, where a house was being insured by these people for the first time. Some of these houses were in the mountains, some in cities and some in the countryside.
Some fancy person had come into this company to "help" it run more efficiently. They had figured out that it take a person .003 seconds to pick up a pencil and .001 seconds to pick up an erasure, ect. Bottom line was that in a working day a person could process 189 new business applications each day. As I mentioned before, we had many different kinds of policies having different time rates that one could complete in a day. I never seemed to make quota so I asked the other people in my department, how they did it. What they told me was that "you tell them what they want to hear." This was interesting. Everyone but Phyllis was making Quota. Could I do this with lying? It was time to work out something that I could live with.
The policies of houses in the mountains had to be mapped out individually to find out what fire zone they were in. This took time and the "Time-management" people had figured this into the factor. One only had to do 58 of these a day. Most of my co-workers hated to go to the maps and look them up. I love to read maps and am rather good at it. I can tell if you live on the east side of the street or the west by your street number so I would trade three for one so these girls didn't have to "think."
As I mentioned, I work best in the afternoon, so my plan was to look all the policies up before I went home at night and process them in the morning. This company started at 7:00 in the morning and closed up at 4:30 in the afternoon. Hey, at 4:30 I'm just starting to hit full speed.
Guess the world isn't made for me or people like me who are evening people?
Night people
We are trained to respond to deadlines, bells, whistles, alarm clocks from the time that we start school, even sooner if our parents are both in the work force. What does that say about us as a people? Maybe that we are well trained? But what has it done to the spiritual person that lives inside of these bodies?
All my growing up years my father tried to change me from an evening person to a morning person. He talked about how he respected farmers more than people who grew up in cities and towns because they got up early to tend their animals etc. When that didn't make an impression on me, he tried to tease me about my habit of being able to get a lot done in the evening hours and couldn't focus in the mornings. He had a saying that went like this, "Lazy people work the best when the sun is in the west."
I understand all the principles but still my body seems to have a mind of its own. Perhaps there are "evening" people and "morning" people?
I have three children. One is a morning person, who is ready to run the race of the day at 6:00 am. I was so happy when he reached his fourth birthday and could fix his own cold cereal breakfast every morning. He used to get very upset as he got older when we would allow every to stay up late to watch a movie. On the stroke of 9:00 pm, he would fall asleep in the chair, on the floor or anywhere he was at the time, never seeing the endings.
Another one of my children had night and day mixed up most of his life. He hated to get up in the morning but was able to function very well in his afternoons and evenings. There were times that I would find him up in the middle of the night just wandering in the dark, fully conscience, not sleep walking. He is in his forties and can do what society requires but still does his best work after supper.
My daughter told me that she would prefer to work the evening shift at a job but has trained herself to work days. I know for a fact when she goes to a later sift job, she is a happier person.
How come that isn't taken into consideration when one applies for a job?
I did a study to see if being a morning person or a night person had anything to do with birth time, the time of day that one was born. I found no correlation.
I remember when I was working for Farmer's Fire Insurance Company. We had many kinds of home insurance policies. There was New Business, where a house was being insured by these people for the first time. Some of these houses were in the mountains, some in cities and some in the countryside.
Some fancy person had come into this company to "help" it run more efficiently. They had figured out that it take a person .003 seconds to pick up a pencil and .001 seconds to pick up an erasure, ect. Bottom line was that in a working day a person could process 189 new business applications each day. As I mentioned before, we had many different kinds of policies having different time rates that one could complete in a day. I never seemed to make quota so I asked the other people in my department, how they did it. What they told me was that "you tell them what they want to hear." This was interesting. Everyone but Phyllis was making Quota. Could I do this with lying? It was time to work out something that I could live with.
The policies of houses in the mountains had to be mapped out individually to find out what fire zone they were in. This took time and the "Time-management" people had figured this into the factor. One only had to do 58 of these a day. Most of my co-workers hated to go to the maps and look them up. I love to read maps and am rather good at it. I can tell if you live on the east side of the street or the west by your street number so I would trade three for one so these girls didn't have to "think."
As I mentioned, I work best in the afternoon, so my plan was to look all the policies up before I went home at night and process them in the morning. This company started at 7:00 in the morning and closed up at 4:30 in the afternoon. Hey, at 4:30 I'm just starting to hit full speed.
Guess the world isn't made for me or people like me who are evening people?
We are trained to respond to deadlines, bells, whistles, alarm clocks from the time that we start school, even sooner if our parents are both in the work force. What does that say about us as a people? Maybe that we are well trained? But what has it done to the spiritual person that lives inside of these bodies?
All my growing up years my father tried to change me from an evening person to a morning person. He talked about how he respected farmers more than people who grew up in cities and towns because they got up early to tend their animals etc. When that didn't make an impression on me, he tried to tease me about my habit of being able to get a lot done in the evening hours and couldn't focus in the mornings. He had a saying that went like this, "Lazy people work the best when the sun is in the west."
I understand all the principles but still my body seems to have a mind of its own. Perhaps there are "evening" people and "morning" people?
I have three children. One is a morning person, who is ready to run the race of the day at 6:00 am. I was so happy when he reached his fourth birthday and could fix his own cold cereal breakfast every morning. He used to get very upset as he got older when we would allow every to stay up late to watch a movie. On the stroke of 9:00 pm, he would fall asleep in the chair, on the floor or anywhere he was at the time, never seeing the endings.
Another one of my children had night and day mixed up most of his life. He hated to get up in the morning but was able to function very well in his afternoons and evenings. There were times that I would find him up in the middle of the night just wandering in the dark, fully conscience, not sleep walking. He is in his forties and can do what society requires but still does his best work after supper.
My daughter told me that she would prefer to work the evening shift at a job but has trained herself to work days. I know for a fact when she goes to a later sift job, she is a happier person.
How come that isn't taken into consideration when one applies for a job?
I did a study to see if being a morning person or a night person had anything to do with birth time, the time of day that one was born. I found no correlation.
I remember when I was working for Farmer's Fire Insurance Company. We had many kinds of home insurance policies. There was New Business, where a house was being insured by these people for the first time. Some of these houses were in the mountains, some in cities and some in the countryside.
Some fancy person had come into this company to "help" it run more efficiently. They had figured out that it take a person .003 seconds to pick up a pencil and .001 seconds to pick up an erasure, ect. Bottom line was that in a working day a person could process 189 new business applications each day. As I mentioned before, we had many different kinds of policies having different time rates that one could complete in a day. I never seemed to make quota so I asked the other people in my department, how they did it. What they told me was that "you tell them what they want to hear." This was interesting. Everyone but Phyllis was making Quota. Could I do this with lying? It was time to work out something that I could live with.
The policies of houses in the mountains had to be mapped out individually to find out what fire zone they were in. This took time and the "Time-management" people had figured this into the factor. One only had to do 58 of these a day. Most of my co-workers hated to go to the maps and look them up. I love to read maps and am rather good at it. I can tell if you live on the east side of the street or the west by your street number so I would trade three for one so these girls didn't have to "think."
As I mentioned, I work best in the afternoon, so my plan was to look all the policies up before I went home at night and process them in the morning. This company started at 7:00 in the morning and closed up at 4:30 in the afternoon. Hey, at 4:30 I'm just starting to hit full speed.
Guess the world isn't made for me or people like me who are evening people?
Thursday, August 30, 2007
A Love Story - Retold
When I moved my family back to Wisconsin in 1976, I decided to make the transition as easy as possible for me. I knew there would be adjustments but I wanted some continuity in my life. When we arrived, life seemed to be shutting down for the winter. I needed to have a little bit of sunshine from time to time.
People often asked me how I could move from California to Wisconsin. I tried to explain it by telling them that in Wisconsin, ones goes from a heated house to a heated car to a heated work place. In California ones goes from an air-conditioned house to an air-conditioned car to an air-conditioned work place. It has nothing to do with the climate; it is all about the people. It doesn't make any difference where you live; it is about the people that you meet.
One of the first things that I did was to go to Mason's Flower shop and make a deal with them. Every Monday morning they would deliver a small floral arrangement to my office and bill me monthly.
One Monday morning a salesman was sitting there when the flowers arrived. He made a comment about how wonderful it was to be getting flowers. I told him that I got them every week from my best friend. I don't know what he thought about that but it was true; I was my very best friend at that time. I hadn't really gotten to know anyone else outside of my family.
Unless we love ourselves, we can't expect others to love us? I know that sounds narcissistic but it is necessary to feel good about ourselves. If we are expecting other people to love us and make us happy, we haven't read the book because it doesn't work that way.
It is the same with anything that we have. If we want someone to buy our house, then we had better love it and make sure that it is full of love when it is shown to buyers. How about selling a car? If you don't like that car, it will be evident to anyone around. This stuff is tangible!
How about the rule that there is only one person of the opposite sex meant for you? That certainly would be nice but it has not been my experience. When you are lucky enough to find someone that you can have fun with, who makes you smile and you feel good around, you are truly blessed. I have met a few who have made me feel special and some who bring out the best in me, but to expect one person to do it all, is a hard find and if you do, my hat is off to you. My friend, Dorothy talks about this a lot. She tells me that is why she has such a variety of friends. No one person can do it all.
Some people need others around them all the time to make them feel good. I find that rather sad because there are times when we need to know that we can have a good time just being a one-some instead of always a two-some. It is important to enjoy your own company. I know a person who can never be without sound in his life. Day or night he has sound, the TV, the radio, his cell phone, always something to distract him from being with himself. How do you learn about self in a crowd of noises?
Being in love is a special thing. Most of us want this to "be in-love" with someone else. It is OK to just be in love. Find something that makes you laugh. Find something that makes you happy. I would even settle for "pleased" at times.
Love is all around us but we tend to see only the ordinary/unlovable. What can we find to love in this world? How about loving the robin outside the window? How about loving the way the shadows fall on the newly cut grass? How about just loving the fact that we are alive and able to love? I find that I just enjoying feelings, an "In Love" situation is a wonderful feeling.
Why would someone not like themselves? Maybe someone has told them that they are unlovable or they did something that makes them have that feeling. That can be turned around very easily. Find something that you love about yourself. How about the color of your eyes? How about the feeling you get when you hear certain music? We were created in love, therefore we are lovable.
A long time ago, I figured out that Love is the glue that holds the universe together so we all have to do our part. Love something today!
People often asked me how I could move from California to Wisconsin. I tried to explain it by telling them that in Wisconsin, ones goes from a heated house to a heated car to a heated work place. In California ones goes from an air-conditioned house to an air-conditioned car to an air-conditioned work place. It has nothing to do with the climate; it is all about the people. It doesn't make any difference where you live; it is about the people that you meet.
One of the first things that I did was to go to Mason's Flower shop and make a deal with them. Every Monday morning they would deliver a small floral arrangement to my office and bill me monthly.
One Monday morning a salesman was sitting there when the flowers arrived. He made a comment about how wonderful it was to be getting flowers. I told him that I got them every week from my best friend. I don't know what he thought about that but it was true; I was my very best friend at that time. I hadn't really gotten to know anyone else outside of my family.
Unless we love ourselves, we can't expect others to love us? I know that sounds narcissistic but it is necessary to feel good about ourselves. If we are expecting other people to love us and make us happy, we haven't read the book because it doesn't work that way.
It is the same with anything that we have. If we want someone to buy our house, then we had better love it and make sure that it is full of love when it is shown to buyers. How about selling a car? If you don't like that car, it will be evident to anyone around. This stuff is tangible!
How about the rule that there is only one person of the opposite sex meant for you? That certainly would be nice but it has not been my experience. When you are lucky enough to find someone that you can have fun with, who makes you smile and you feel good around, you are truly blessed. I have met a few who have made me feel special and some who bring out the best in me, but to expect one person to do it all, is a hard find and if you do, my hat is off to you. My friend, Dorothy talks about this a lot. She tells me that is why she has such a variety of friends. No one person can do it all.
Some people need others around them all the time to make them feel good. I find that rather sad because there are times when we need to know that we can have a good time just being a one-some instead of always a two-some. It is important to enjoy your own company. I know a person who can never be without sound in his life. Day or night he has sound, the TV, the radio, his cell phone, always something to distract him from being with himself. How do you learn about self in a crowd of noises?
Being in love is a special thing. Most of us want this to "be in-love" with someone else. It is OK to just be in love. Find something that makes you laugh. Find something that makes you happy. I would even settle for "pleased" at times.
Love is all around us but we tend to see only the ordinary/unlovable. What can we find to love in this world? How about loving the robin outside the window? How about loving the way the shadows fall on the newly cut grass? How about just loving the fact that we are alive and able to love? I find that I just enjoying feelings, an "In Love" situation is a wonderful feeling.
Why would someone not like themselves? Maybe someone has told them that they are unlovable or they did something that makes them have that feeling. That can be turned around very easily. Find something that you love about yourself. How about the color of your eyes? How about the feeling you get when you hear certain music? We were created in love, therefore we are lovable.
A long time ago, I figured out that Love is the glue that holds the universe together so we all have to do our part. Love something today!
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Vehicles
Lately I have been thinking about the cars that I have known. I know, it should be about the people that I have known but cars are interesting.
One time I sat outside of the place where I worked and watched all the vehicles go by on the freeway. What an interesting concept. They are a lot like people. They come in various shapes and sizes. While I was watching I saw a big truck go by followed by a very small car. Then there was the snazzy expensive car going around the pickup truck. They come in all colors and conditions too. Some cars are so well taken care of and others are so beaten up.
What they all have in common is that there is an intelligent being (Hopefully) sitting the in driver's seat in command of where it is going. A vehicle really is just an artificial body. The purpose is to get the intelligent being from one place to another faster than they can in the flesh body that they inhabit.
All the cars that I have known seem to have a personality that goes along with their looks. Like pets, I have named the ones that I have known personally. I remember a really hot,red-Dodge Dart that had trouble keeping it under 70 miles per hour. I rented her to a guy that wanted something to take him to Phoenix. I told him that she was spunky. (In the early '70's, I managed an Avis franchise.)
Avis story: I had a middle aged French couple come in and all I had was standard shifting vehicles left on the lot. They didn't speak any English. They showed me that they wanted to go to Yosemite so in pantomime, I showed them how to use a standard shift. When they drove off the lot, I followed them. When they got stuck in the middle of an intersection, I parked and showed them again how to let up on the clutch while applying the gas and shift gears. I followed them for a few more blocks until I was sure that they were going to be all right. I did this hoping that someone would do this for my parents when they were traveling somewhere that didn't understand English.
How about the little blue Sprite? Larry and I went to Las Vegas in one that we had in the early '60s. Going from Los Angeles to Las Vegas, one climbs into the high desert. We were going to meet my sister Donna and her husband there. Now in the high desert at night in the wintertime, it gets really cold and this little car had a heater that got smaller and smaller as we traveled. I remember reaching behind the seats into the back of the vehicle and opening the suitcases to pull out our bathing towels to stuff in the braces of the soft top and then pull our bathrobes out to put around us. We joked that when we got there someone would have to chip us out of this little car. This Sprite was so funny; we played tag with trucks all the way there. We would zip up a hill and pass a truck, then on the downhill side they would go flying by us.
Automobiles have become a symbol of independence. For many years, when I was in California we only had one car, a station wagon to take all the things one needed for our family. When Larry was gone, I would be at home without the freedom to do anything. So he got a car for me. It was an old pink Cadillac. Remember the fins and the long fronts on these cars? They were a challenge because one never was sure how far from the building you were parking. You couldn't see where the back or the front ended, but it took my kids and my neighbors, along with their kids to the lake north of Merced many times.
Larry drove a Blue VW bug when Loren was very little. So whenever Loren saw a VW bug, he called it a Daddy Car. And it was. He carried a VW bug Hot-Wheels (small toy car) with him in his pocket. When Blaine was old enough he always had a different Hot-Wheels car in each of his pockets.
My father had Dodge vehicles because the Dodge dealer in Shawano was a friend of his. Dad had Dodge trucks for his business. One of Dad's theories was that people like to deal with successful people. So every three years he traded in his car and got a new one.
I can say that I am personally responsible for damaging one of these vehicles twice. Once I had a car full of girls that was being chased by a car full of boys and I went around a corner too closely. We pulled the fender out and Dad was somewhat understanding. The second time that I damaged this same car, I had to pay for it. In that case, I had used the extra space that a fire hydrant takes up to do my parallel parking. The hydrant in from of Koepsels store was really leaning out into the street (the whole sidewalk was sitting at a 30 degree angle) and as I backed in to the spot behind it, I heard a screech as it sliding down the side of the car. It looked like it had been keyed on the passenger's side.
Do we give more attention to our cars than we do to people? When I first married Vern, his sister-in-law told me that he had washed the paint off his first car. I believe that because Vern likes to have everything he owns look just so.
What do our cars say about us? Some people have cars that are always clean inside and out. Other cars look like they belong to a person who is living out of them.
I have never owned a new car but I remember the smell that my Dad's cars had. When I was working for him, he wanted me to have a new company car. Somehow that didn't work for me. As a divorced woman, I needed to have my own things. Having my own car did that for me. Plus I had a teenager and I didn't want to be responsible for a company car with her driving.
One day when I first came back to Wisconsin from California, I left the office for lunch and drove out to a stop sign. It was winter and icy but I was being very careful. While waiting for the light to turn green, I watched a car that was spinning out of control coming over the hill in my direction. My first reaction was to slam my car into reverse and get out of the trajectory. I looked behind and there was someone sitting right behind me so I couldn't shift gears. I crossed my hands over the steering wheel, put my face into them and waited. The car hit, knocking all the windows out of the other car. There was an old man in it and without windows; he would be cold waiting for the police, which another person had called. My right front fender was damaged but I was warm and cozy. I told him to get into my car while we waited. He was so upset and worried. He was sure that he would lose his license to drive. (Remember this is a sign of independence. We all want this for as long as we can hold on to it) I'm not sure if he did or did not lose his license but when I went back to work, my co-workers wanted to know what had happened to my car. I told them that I do anything these days to meet men and I met a really nice one from Gillette.
When I got custody of my Mother because Dad died and Mother had a mild case of Alzheimer's, (they called it Sundowning because she became very upset at dusk.) Mother went with me all the time. It was like having another child to watch. For a while she had complained that she never got to drive anymore. So one day when we were at Walgreens, about 4 blocks from our house, I asked her if she would mind driving home because I had a terrible headache. It was early afternoon and the traffic was nothing. She got into the driver's seat and drove us home. She drove straddling the center line at about 5 to 7 miles per hour. I didn't say anything but just allowed her to do this. After that experience, she never asked to drive again. When I told Vern about this, he couldn't believe what I had done this. He brings it up from time to time even now. Mother had been driving since she was a teenager on her parents farm so not driving was a very important loss.
Cars don't seem that important to me as they seem to be for others. I feel that I am driving for everyone around me when I go out. I even mention to others that in every vehicle you see on the road, there is a person on some drug sitting in the driver's seat. Sure it might be just an aspirin but everyone is on something. There are very few people who are not taking some drug at this time.
So a really good day for me is to do all my errands on my bike and not take my car out of the garage. When I have to drive for a long ways, I find myself getting worn out just driving. I have even taken people to appointments and after driving them home, I have to give myself a pep talk to get home myself. Sometimes my car sits in the garage for almost a week without being driven. This is one of the nice things about living in a very small town.
When my son was trying to talk me into getting a computer, he mentioned that he understood my feelings about artificial intelligence. He felt that it was similar to my feelings about artificial bodies (Cars), artificial flowers, even prints of paintings. Boy,what does that say about me if I can only have the real thing?
One time I sat outside of the place where I worked and watched all the vehicles go by on the freeway. What an interesting concept. They are a lot like people. They come in various shapes and sizes. While I was watching I saw a big truck go by followed by a very small car. Then there was the snazzy expensive car going around the pickup truck. They come in all colors and conditions too. Some cars are so well taken care of and others are so beaten up.
What they all have in common is that there is an intelligent being (Hopefully) sitting the in driver's seat in command of where it is going. A vehicle really is just an artificial body. The purpose is to get the intelligent being from one place to another faster than they can in the flesh body that they inhabit.
All the cars that I have known seem to have a personality that goes along with their looks. Like pets, I have named the ones that I have known personally. I remember a really hot,red-Dodge Dart that had trouble keeping it under 70 miles per hour. I rented her to a guy that wanted something to take him to Phoenix. I told him that she was spunky. (In the early '70's, I managed an Avis franchise.)
Avis story: I had a middle aged French couple come in and all I had was standard shifting vehicles left on the lot. They didn't speak any English. They showed me that they wanted to go to Yosemite so in pantomime, I showed them how to use a standard shift. When they drove off the lot, I followed them. When they got stuck in the middle of an intersection, I parked and showed them again how to let up on the clutch while applying the gas and shift gears. I followed them for a few more blocks until I was sure that they were going to be all right. I did this hoping that someone would do this for my parents when they were traveling somewhere that didn't understand English.
How about the little blue Sprite? Larry and I went to Las Vegas in one that we had in the early '60s. Going from Los Angeles to Las Vegas, one climbs into the high desert. We were going to meet my sister Donna and her husband there. Now in the high desert at night in the wintertime, it gets really cold and this little car had a heater that got smaller and smaller as we traveled. I remember reaching behind the seats into the back of the vehicle and opening the suitcases to pull out our bathing towels to stuff in the braces of the soft top and then pull our bathrobes out to put around us. We joked that when we got there someone would have to chip us out of this little car. This Sprite was so funny; we played tag with trucks all the way there. We would zip up a hill and pass a truck, then on the downhill side they would go flying by us.
Automobiles have become a symbol of independence. For many years, when I was in California we only had one car, a station wagon to take all the things one needed for our family. When Larry was gone, I would be at home without the freedom to do anything. So he got a car for me. It was an old pink Cadillac. Remember the fins and the long fronts on these cars? They were a challenge because one never was sure how far from the building you were parking. You couldn't see where the back or the front ended, but it took my kids and my neighbors, along with their kids to the lake north of Merced many times.
Larry drove a Blue VW bug when Loren was very little. So whenever Loren saw a VW bug, he called it a Daddy Car. And it was. He carried a VW bug Hot-Wheels (small toy car) with him in his pocket. When Blaine was old enough he always had a different Hot-Wheels car in each of his pockets.
My father had Dodge vehicles because the Dodge dealer in Shawano was a friend of his. Dad had Dodge trucks for his business. One of Dad's theories was that people like to deal with successful people. So every three years he traded in his car and got a new one.
I can say that I am personally responsible for damaging one of these vehicles twice. Once I had a car full of girls that was being chased by a car full of boys and I went around a corner too closely. We pulled the fender out and Dad was somewhat understanding. The second time that I damaged this same car, I had to pay for it. In that case, I had used the extra space that a fire hydrant takes up to do my parallel parking. The hydrant in from of Koepsels store was really leaning out into the street (the whole sidewalk was sitting at a 30 degree angle) and as I backed in to the spot behind it, I heard a screech as it sliding down the side of the car. It looked like it had been keyed on the passenger's side.
Do we give more attention to our cars than we do to people? When I first married Vern, his sister-in-law told me that he had washed the paint off his first car. I believe that because Vern likes to have everything he owns look just so.
What do our cars say about us? Some people have cars that are always clean inside and out. Other cars look like they belong to a person who is living out of them.
I have never owned a new car but I remember the smell that my Dad's cars had. When I was working for him, he wanted me to have a new company car. Somehow that didn't work for me. As a divorced woman, I needed to have my own things. Having my own car did that for me. Plus I had a teenager and I didn't want to be responsible for a company car with her driving.
One day when I first came back to Wisconsin from California, I left the office for lunch and drove out to a stop sign. It was winter and icy but I was being very careful. While waiting for the light to turn green, I watched a car that was spinning out of control coming over the hill in my direction. My first reaction was to slam my car into reverse and get out of the trajectory. I looked behind and there was someone sitting right behind me so I couldn't shift gears. I crossed my hands over the steering wheel, put my face into them and waited. The car hit, knocking all the windows out of the other car. There was an old man in it and without windows; he would be cold waiting for the police, which another person had called. My right front fender was damaged but I was warm and cozy. I told him to get into my car while we waited. He was so upset and worried. He was sure that he would lose his license to drive. (Remember this is a sign of independence. We all want this for as long as we can hold on to it) I'm not sure if he did or did not lose his license but when I went back to work, my co-workers wanted to know what had happened to my car. I told them that I do anything these days to meet men and I met a really nice one from Gillette.
When I got custody of my Mother because Dad died and Mother had a mild case of Alzheimer's, (they called it Sundowning because she became very upset at dusk.) Mother went with me all the time. It was like having another child to watch. For a while she had complained that she never got to drive anymore. So one day when we were at Walgreens, about 4 blocks from our house, I asked her if she would mind driving home because I had a terrible headache. It was early afternoon and the traffic was nothing. She got into the driver's seat and drove us home. She drove straddling the center line at about 5 to 7 miles per hour. I didn't say anything but just allowed her to do this. After that experience, she never asked to drive again. When I told Vern about this, he couldn't believe what I had done this. He brings it up from time to time even now. Mother had been driving since she was a teenager on her parents farm so not driving was a very important loss.
Cars don't seem that important to me as they seem to be for others. I feel that I am driving for everyone around me when I go out. I even mention to others that in every vehicle you see on the road, there is a person on some drug sitting in the driver's seat. Sure it might be just an aspirin but everyone is on something. There are very few people who are not taking some drug at this time.
So a really good day for me is to do all my errands on my bike and not take my car out of the garage. When I have to drive for a long ways, I find myself getting worn out just driving. I have even taken people to appointments and after driving them home, I have to give myself a pep talk to get home myself. Sometimes my car sits in the garage for almost a week without being driven. This is one of the nice things about living in a very small town.
When my son was trying to talk me into getting a computer, he mentioned that he understood my feelings about artificial intelligence. He felt that it was similar to my feelings about artificial bodies (Cars), artificial flowers, even prints of paintings. Boy,what does that say about me if I can only have the real thing?
Saturday, August 4, 2007
The Awakening
Due to the nature of my Dad's business, we went on vacation in the wintertime. In Spring and Summer, Wisconsin is getting ready for and bombarded with tourists, one of our main sources of income. So every winter our family would go on vacation.
One year we took off and headed to Texas. There was Grandpa Charlie, Grandma Nellie, Mom and Dad along with the three of us, girls. Dad had purchased a one bedroom trailer that was about 20 feet long to haul behind our car. This trailer had a living room/dining room, small kitchen and a separate bedroom on the end with a double bed in it.
Grandpa and Grandma were given the bedroom. Mom and Dad had the living room with its davenport that made into a bed. The three of us had sleeping bags that went on the floor in the rest of the living room when the table had been collapsed and moved into the kitchen. It all worked out.
When we got to Texas; Donna Texas to be exact, we found a trailer court and parked under the trees. This trailer court was in a grove of grapefruit trees so we were surrounded by them. There was a large bathroom/shower building nearby made of cement blocks. The sun was shining and life was great.
Mom and Dad had decided that they wanted to go to Mexico City so after a couple of days, they took off. By this time Grandpa and Grandma had gotten acquainted with some of the other people in the park and could get around without having a car of their own. Someone would take Grandpa to the store if we needed something.
As for us, girls…well, we were pretty much on our own. There were a lot of kids in the park that we got to know right away.
The manager of the park told us that we could eat all the grapefruit that we could pick. His only rule was that nothing was to be left on the ground. Grandpa gave me a pocket knife and showed me how to use it so we could cut the fruit up. Grandma gave each of us a spoon of our own to carry in our pocket. We would climb the trees and sit in them eating half a grapefruit while someone else was eating the other half.
We did have one other rule, after lunch we had to spend an hour or sometimes even a little more on our studies. Before we left home, Mom had gone to each of our teachers and told them what we were going to be doing. (Do you think any school would be this lenient today?) The teacher would use the spiral notebook that Mom brought and within a few days would send it home with us, showing Mom what was going to be covered in the time we would be gone. So we had school work. Grandma was very strict about that in spite of the fact that she was really a softy, but then this Grandma was a reader. She read to us and with us, she just loved to read.
A quick note here, when we got home we had to wait for our classes to catch up with what we had done in the couple of hours a day that we spent on our school work. What does that really say about public education? I admire people who home school their children.
While we were in Texas, Grandma got shingles. She thought it was from the soap that she was using. Sure wish that I knew then what I know now about Shingles and how easily they are to cure. I said cure and how quickly one can get rid of the itching that they bring on. Looking back, I figure that we probably caused it because it is a chicken pox residue that recedes into the nervous system and my guess is that having the complete responsibility of the three of us was a lot for her to deal with.
What was so special about this trip was an awakening in my brain that I wasn't just one of the kids. I already mentioned that there were other "kids" in this park. One boy who was 16 and had his driver's license asked if I would like to go to the drive-in theater a few miles away. He said that we could take his brother and sister along with my sisters and all go. I asked Grandpa and Grandma and they decided that it would be fine. So we went. He asked me to sit in the front seat with him. It was the first time that I realized that I might be of interest to someone. This was a very new feeling for me.
Regressing a bit, I get to tell you about rumors that I have heard. When my Grandpa was interested in my Grandma, He lived on a farm near her in the area east of Clintonville. Grandma's stepfather always allowed her and her sisters to take their horses and wagon to town so Grandpa and his brothers would hitch rides.
Maybe that is why they knew it would be OK for us to all pile into a car to go to the movies? Isn't it interesting how cyclical life is?
We had a great time in Donna, Texas. Sharing Grapefruit, movies and having fun. I have to mention that I never did get kissed and that was a good thing because as I said, this feeling was really new to me. To think that here was a boy that didn't want to pull my hair, push me down or throw something at me. He just wanted to share my grapefruit and climb trees with me. Life was good.
One year we took off and headed to Texas. There was Grandpa Charlie, Grandma Nellie, Mom and Dad along with the three of us, girls. Dad had purchased a one bedroom trailer that was about 20 feet long to haul behind our car. This trailer had a living room/dining room, small kitchen and a separate bedroom on the end with a double bed in it.
Grandpa and Grandma were given the bedroom. Mom and Dad had the living room with its davenport that made into a bed. The three of us had sleeping bags that went on the floor in the rest of the living room when the table had been collapsed and moved into the kitchen. It all worked out.
When we got to Texas; Donna Texas to be exact, we found a trailer court and parked under the trees. This trailer court was in a grove of grapefruit trees so we were surrounded by them. There was a large bathroom/shower building nearby made of cement blocks. The sun was shining and life was great.
Mom and Dad had decided that they wanted to go to Mexico City so after a couple of days, they took off. By this time Grandpa and Grandma had gotten acquainted with some of the other people in the park and could get around without having a car of their own. Someone would take Grandpa to the store if we needed something.
As for us, girls…well, we were pretty much on our own. There were a lot of kids in the park that we got to know right away.
The manager of the park told us that we could eat all the grapefruit that we could pick. His only rule was that nothing was to be left on the ground. Grandpa gave me a pocket knife and showed me how to use it so we could cut the fruit up. Grandma gave each of us a spoon of our own to carry in our pocket. We would climb the trees and sit in them eating half a grapefruit while someone else was eating the other half.
We did have one other rule, after lunch we had to spend an hour or sometimes even a little more on our studies. Before we left home, Mom had gone to each of our teachers and told them what we were going to be doing. (Do you think any school would be this lenient today?) The teacher would use the spiral notebook that Mom brought and within a few days would send it home with us, showing Mom what was going to be covered in the time we would be gone. So we had school work. Grandma was very strict about that in spite of the fact that she was really a softy, but then this Grandma was a reader. She read to us and with us, she just loved to read.
A quick note here, when we got home we had to wait for our classes to catch up with what we had done in the couple of hours a day that we spent on our school work. What does that really say about public education? I admire people who home school their children.
While we were in Texas, Grandma got shingles. She thought it was from the soap that she was using. Sure wish that I knew then what I know now about Shingles and how easily they are to cure. I said cure and how quickly one can get rid of the itching that they bring on. Looking back, I figure that we probably caused it because it is a chicken pox residue that recedes into the nervous system and my guess is that having the complete responsibility of the three of us was a lot for her to deal with.
What was so special about this trip was an awakening in my brain that I wasn't just one of the kids. I already mentioned that there were other "kids" in this park. One boy who was 16 and had his driver's license asked if I would like to go to the drive-in theater a few miles away. He said that we could take his brother and sister along with my sisters and all go. I asked Grandpa and Grandma and they decided that it would be fine. So we went. He asked me to sit in the front seat with him. It was the first time that I realized that I might be of interest to someone. This was a very new feeling for me.
Regressing a bit, I get to tell you about rumors that I have heard. When my Grandpa was interested in my Grandma, He lived on a farm near her in the area east of Clintonville. Grandma's stepfather always allowed her and her sisters to take their horses and wagon to town so Grandpa and his brothers would hitch rides.
Maybe that is why they knew it would be OK for us to all pile into a car to go to the movies? Isn't it interesting how cyclical life is?
We had a great time in Donna, Texas. Sharing Grapefruit, movies and having fun. I have to mention that I never did get kissed and that was a good thing because as I said, this feeling was really new to me. To think that here was a boy that didn't want to pull my hair, push me down or throw something at me. He just wanted to share my grapefruit and climb trees with me. Life was good.
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