Chiming In

Ok, for once I'm going to jump on the bandwagon.

No, I really don't care about the Brit's royal family (is royal supposed to be capitalized in this situation?) but yes, I will DVR the ceremony.

I was twenty-two years old when Lady Di married Prince Charles.  Obviously that was long before DVRs and a few years before Beta Max recorders were affordable, so I woke up early to watch.  I still remember sitting in the kitchen with my mom that early morning and seeing Lady Di coming up the aisle in that incredibly long long train.

I remember the fairy tale carriage she rode in.  I was young and believed in the fairy tale and hoped that it wasn't only skin deep. 

Shortly thereafter it became obvious the marriage was just a sham.  Today, I still believe that Diana probably didn't know that she was only picked for good breeding.  I'm sure she was incredibly insufferable to be around, but throughout the years I loved seeing her with her children.  I still remember seeing William running into her arms after spending time away from her.  And my heart broke watching the two boys walk behind the horse drawn casket.

So although I don't spend more than a nickel's worth of attention to the royal family, I will still DVR the ceremony.

I guess all girls want to believe in the fairy tale no matter what they may tell you.

Update:  I thought I would be mildly interested, but actually the ceremony was the kind told in fairy tales. The bride was gorgeous and it was so sweet when she finally got up to the altar, William leaned over and you could easily read his lips.  He said, "You look so beautiful.  Beautiful"  And he was right.

Rise Up

Happy EASTER!  Truly the Holiest of Holy Days.

I Wanna Have a Beer With This Guy

I love the artistic turn this takes when the reporter pans her camera back to the guys she's having a side discussion with.

I watched this several times, laughing harder each time.  It's comic genius




H/T Hotair

Rumbling Surgery - Updated

Update:  He's home and doing well. 

Tomorrow morning, Rumbles goes under the knife due to his work accident.  Amazingly, they are going to remove two of his neck vertebrae, replace them with cadaver vertebrae and then weld three of them together AND it's considered out-patient surgery.

In keeping with family tradition, I can't let a good ribbing go to waste.  Enjoy the video Mark.  I'm sure those bolts extruding out of your neck will come in handy next Halloween.



Good luck big brother.  You'll be fine.  Love you.

Sometimes Your Kids Just Won't Listen

Tomorrow I will get a chance to watch my big brother cry like a little girl again.  I can't wait.  We'll all be watching as the "baby" of the next generation of my family is "given away".  I told her it was nice she planned such a big party for my birthday.   Go read his Father of the Bride post, while I get myself a Kleenex.

I Never Thought I Would See The Day (Warning Political Discussion)

Yes, I do TRY to not blog about politics, although I have very strong beliefs and my "hobby" is reading alot of differing viewpoints about politics.  I have become much more passionate about what I believe the older I get. 

I even read radical liberal sites just to keep an eye on what people at the opposite end of the spectrum might be thinking, even sites like DailyKos.  Rarely do I find any logical reasoning.  There are some reasonable sites where you can at least disagree intelligently without resorting to namecalling, but they are rare.  When anyone (right or left) can no longer support their ideology, too many of them resort to the Nazi, Racist, Hitler names which I just find appalling. 

In perusing my nightly routine of reading several politcal blogs of both sides, I found the most amazing thing tonight.  

One of the people I find most offensive is not a blogger, but a very well known "supposed journalist" for Time.   Joel Klein  I don't read his writings often because he is so biased and hateful that I want to throw my laptop across the room.  I read the article because of a link on hotair.com stating that Klein was in "full throttle freak out mode" about possible GOP contenders in 2012.

Klein likes to complain about the horrible rhetoric and he's the worst of the worst about throwing it at Conservatives and the Tea Party.

Of course the article starts off slamming every conservative belief and ripping into all the "front-runners" thus far, but he ends today's article with this:

"...so I plead, as an unflinching American patriot--please Mitch Daniels, please Jeb Bush, please run. I may not agree with you on most things, but I respect you. And you seem to respect yourselves enough not to behave like public clowns." 

I literally had to read the last part a couple times to make sure I read that right.  I don't think I could get behind Jeb Bush only because I think he, like Palin, Bachmann, and several other GOP contenders would draw out millions of voters only to vote AGAINST them.

But Mitch?  Since Mike Pence won't run (yet), I think Mitch would be a good President and could win. 

All I gotta say is that Klein must be VERY nervous about the outcome of the 2012 Presidential election and he's thinking it may NOT be in the Democrat's favor.

In the words of Arte Johnson, "Interesting, VERY interesting."

Good Will

One of the best scenes in a movie ever.

And Since I No Longer Work There

Which at this point in my life, could be several banks, mortgage companies, the FDIC and at least one retail shop. I have some bizarre wonderful co-worker stories. I'll reserve the right to change a few details to avoid prosecution identification. (Look at me, I found the "scratch that" font.)

As a preface, let me first state that if I mention someone's race/ethnicity/gender/stupidity or any other outstanding noticeable differences it does NOT mean I have issues with the particular trait, only that it's important to explain the storyline. I'll try to leave out those details, but if you figure that trait out all on your own, I bear no responsibility.

Ok, here goes.

When I asked him, Chang told me he had been in America 26 years.

Well, at least I THINK that is what he said.

The cubes in the office were just about the height of my head, which meant little privacy. Chang sat on the opposite side of my cube wall. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear every big SLURP of coffee, water, coke, soup. Did I say slurp, no I meant slurpS.

Not kidding. It was especially bad because the slurps would come in waves. Thirty or so within thirty seconds. Rest a couple minutes and it would start all over again. Every slurp felt like someone would jam 100k volts through my back.

At lunchtime, he would prepare this at his desk:

You can imagine the smell that would wash over me like a wave.  I finally brought in two small fans and directed the smell up and over to one of my buddies that sat with an open cube next to Chang.

Immediately behind Chang, sat Cliff Clavin.  For those of you that may be too young to remember who that is, he was the mailman on Cheers that would sit around the bar spouting things like this:


Cliff: "Well ya see, Norm, it's like this. A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members. In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Excessive intake of alcohol, as we know, kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine. That's why you always feel smarter after a few beers."


(Sorry, tried to find a great video of Cliff, but sadly few seem to exist that show off his vast knowledge.) 
Anyway.

Cliff had been married to a Russian woman, which made him know even more about the world than the rest of us. Well, except we had Indians, Brazilians, Ukrainians, and Taiwanese. Oh and Chinese. There was an extreme amount of "English as a second language" in the office. But Cliff knew more about their cultures than they did. He once told the Chinese guy that he was “clean for a Chinese man” and told the sweet Indian lady behind me that she was “lighter skinned than most Indians”. Obviously Cliff is now divorced.
 
Behind Cliff was a deaf lady. She wore hearing aids, but would take them out most of the day. Many of us envied her disability as the chaos reigned down around us.

Behind the deaf lady was a very argumentative, loud yet witty Ukrainian. He had been friends with Cliff for decades. They argued like a couple in a very bad marriage.

Mr. Ukraine and Chang didn’t speak to each other often, but when they did, a huge argument would ensue. I have to explain that Chang had serious issues with the English language. It was universally impossible to understand about 4 out of 5 words he spoke. Consequently, everyone he spoke to would stand there with a “deer in the headlights” look. It was extremely entertaining to watch it happening to anyone but me. He was extremely, overly, unbelievably nice to everyone (with Mr. Ukraine being the exception), so I really did feel badly that he drove me absolutely insane.

Making it even worse was the fact that I honestly believed Chang wasn’t odd because he was from a different culture or could barely speak English. Having looked up the symptoms, I believe he may have been suffering from a mild form of Asperger’s Syndrome. He had the physical and mental conditions that matched exactly. I know, I know. I’m a horrible person but you didn’t have to work next to him 40+ hours a week.

Between my cube and the printer stood a shredder bin. Everyone shared the same printer. One day Chang shuffled back from the printer corner and very politely asked me, “Reetaa, how woiaroa ownguuu fowta shred?” He stood with papers in his hands. I figured it out. “Oh, you need to shred some papers?” Bowing his head up and down, he said, “Yes. Yes.”

I took him back around from where he just came and showed him the shredder bin.

He politely, very politely thanked me profusely. Then…..

He looked into the slot of the bin and looked confused. He looked back up at me and began to move both hands back and forth, miming a perfect imitation of a paper shredder.

“But, how does it shred?” My conscience is dealing me a huge blow right now. I know he means well, I understand he’s a nice man. I took a deep breath and said very slowly, “Chang. It doesn’t shred. It’s a BIN. They shred the paper somewhere else. This is where you place the paper to be shredded.”

Again, he nods his heads in agreement and thanks me. Twice.

Then bent down again and looked at the slot.

And again. Said. “But....how does it shred?” And again, making his Edward Scissorhand’s move.

I know at this time God is about to smite me with some severe affliction, because I just want to get away and crawl back to my cube. Patience. Patience. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“CHANG, it DOESN’T shred. “

“Oh, how?”  Johnny Depp returns.

“Chang. You put the paper in the bin. It falls into a bag. Someone picks up the bag and takes it away to a place where they shred.”

“OH, ok. Thank you very much.”

I’m making my escape. Or so I thought.

“Reetaaa, what weow owrwa with paper you don’t want to shred?”

“I put it in my trash can, Chang.”

Just one tiny example of an everyday workplace that no one could write in a sitcom because it would not be believable.

Oh, and one day, my sweet Indian friend decided she would try to imitate a Chinese accent. The office was in tears.

I know.  I'm horrible.  But office work is this close to insanity.

An Anniversary - Of Sorts

Now been four years ago today.

Thanks Doc for saving my life.

Surely We Are Being Punked

So apparently today, this guy...

and this guy

and this guy

and this one.

decided to give the United States a lecture at the UN Human Rights Council on human rights.

Someone, anyone tell me why we would be connected with an organization that allows these nations voting on our human rights.

I think I'll go have a migraine now.

I'll Take Nuclear for Two Hundred Please Alex

Someone, anyone please explain this to me.

I am learning, but it's obvious I cannot become a Nuclear Physicist overnight, especially because I don't know the difference between Nuculer (which I'm told is NOT a word, just a mispronunciation) and Nuclear. 

I've been listening to the news trying to explain this in simple terms.  I want to understand more, but I have no one to ask my questions.

God, please help those poor people in Japan.  I don't understand the havoc wreaked on this nation.  I know there is so much I cannot understand and as one faithful Japanese man put it, "This is a test of my faith."    Amen.

The Best Sitcom

I refuse, and I do mean REFUSE to post about the latest Hollywood meltdown.  But since the idiot claimed that he was the best sitcom ever, I wondered what your favorite might be.

I have to say Frasier made me laugh nearly EVERY episode.  The combination of Frasier, Niles and their father was just classic.  Martin reminded me so much of my Grandpa Cissell.

Next is a new one.  I really love Big Bang Theory. 

Even though not technically labeled a sitcom, we would laugh hysterically at Boston Legal.  You had to get to know the characters, but once you did, no one did it better than William Shatner in that role.

Entertaining was The Golden Girls, Cheers, and Seinfeld.

I'm sure I'll think of others.  I'll add them to the post as I think of them.

I'm just too tired to post serious stuff with the new job.  So much to learn, getting used to new people (everyone seems to be great) and learning a new industry and dealing with a start up company and missing my old friends and comfort zone.

Which reminds me of another one.  The Office.  I never regularly watched it, but I lived it the last four years.  The Office could never write an episode that came anywhere near the environment I worked in because no one would believe it.  But the great people far outweighed the crazies and it was always entertaining to listen to someone else having a discussion with the handful of crazies when I was not having to participate.  There were just too many funny non-pc stories not to tell. 

Soon, my friends, I'll tell them soon.  When I'm not so tired.

Are they trying to google brothel? Update

I'm still getting all kinds of hits for chicken broth.  Please someone from the other side of the earth explain to me why there seems to be a sudden interest in chicken broth?  Is this some code word in another language that I am missing the latest news on?   It's a chicken broth conspiracy, isn't it?

Blogging and apparently googling is weird.

It's NOT Thanksgviing people.   Why aren't you reading any of my interesting posts?

Update:  Here are the stats from the last 500 hits on search terms on my blog if you think I'm imagining things.  The 50% doesn't include "raw chicken", "photos of chicken broth" or "3 raw chickens."  I think it's the image of the Swanson's chicken broth that is getting the hits.  Maybe I should try to turn this blog into a paying ad one with Swanson's except that the post it refers to says, "I don't use this stuff."  (Which actually isn't entirely true, I always have some on hand JUST in case I haven't made enough broth the "real" way.)

Num   Perc.           Search Term

87      50.00%       chicken broth
  5        2.87%       1978 monte carlo
  5        2.87%       ordinary
  5        2.87%       Officer David Moore
  4        2.30%        raw chicken
  4        2.30%        peter koe
  3        1.72%       "an ordinary life"
  3        1.72%        Pete Koe
  2        1.15%        an ordinary life
  2        1.15%        blue 1978 Monte Carlo
  2        1.15%        officer moore
  2        1.15%        reviews of Live like you are dying
  2        1.15%        west baden hotel rooms
  2        1.15%        extreme hatred
  2        1.15%        west baden springs
  2        1.15%         i see dead people quote
  2        1.15%         start out that way
  1        0.57%         impd david moore
  1        0.57%         baby blue 80 monte carlo
  1        0.57%         kenneth anderson jake laird
  1        0.57%         78 monte carlo
  1        0.57%         Officer Timothy Jacob (Jake) Laird
  1        0.57%         disney elevators
  1        0.57%          i phone autocorrect fail
  1        0.57%         eow 1/11/11
  1        0.57%         death people
  1        0.57%         my parents expect me to have an ordinary life
  1        0.57%         west baden
  1        0.57%         78 monte carlo sky blue
  1        0.57%         a final 10-42
  1        0.57%         the mave site.fetch my flying monkeys
  1        0.57%         why love those family gatherings
  1        0.57%         photos of chicken broth
  1        0.57%         ordinary life
  1        0.57%         monte carlo 78
  1        0.57%         You and I cry I cry
  1        0.57%         ordinary life estate
  1        0.57%         I'll Be Seeing You Photography
  1        0.57%        officer koe
  1        0.57%        west baden springs hotel
  1        0.57%        impd officer david moore
  1        0.57%        old school monte carlo
  1        0.57%        officer jakr laird indianapolis police
  1        0.57%        teaching children about columbia
  1        0.57%        thought id see you one more time again
  1        0.57%        3 raw chickens
  1        0.57%        tolerance with my friends
  1        0.57%        officer peter koe
  1        0.57%        locks of love bob
  1        0.57%        Indianapolis police officer Pete Koe
  1        0.57%        10-42 officer
  1        0.57%         i have an ordinary life
  1        0.57%        "Anthony Maschek"
  1        0.57%         but I just thought I'd see you one more time again
  1        0.57%         text from dad dont come home getting it on got to hate autocorrect
  1        0.57%         an ordinary life reading for funeral
  1        0.57%         iphone autocorrect failures

174  100.00%

Hi, I'm Rita

Started my new contract position today.

The projects seem interesting, it's exciting to learn a new industry.

But the minute I walk out the door in the morning, I have to put on my personality face like I'm perfectly comfortable meeting new people, LOTS of new people, not knowing what to expect and appearing confident.

YUCK.  I hate that stuff. 

I love already knowing the personalities of the people I work with.  I don't have a problem with learning new processes and asking questions when I don't know the answers, but not knowing people's personalities, who will be my friend and who might be looking to stab me in the back makes me nervous.  I have stayed for years with companies where I was miserable only because I stupidly have the "devil you know" attitude.

Maybe I was just in banking too long.  I'd estimate it was close to 50% that would prefer to set you up to look bad, so I'm more hesitant than what I should be.

Four years as a contractor with a retailer where I found nearly everyone was just a great deal of fun to work with and I didn't have to continually look over my shoulder for that person aiming at my head made it very hard to leave.

First assessment is that this new company is ready for some major changes and have assigned an inside resource with alot of project experience to help me along.  That's all good.

It's just that poor Bob has to put up with me being wired a little too tightly for the next few months.

The good side is that I can finally tell some of the quirky stories of past assignments (names will be withheld to protect the stupid).  I swear the TV show The Office could never write some of oddities of some of my past associates.  It made every day interesting, that's for sure.

I'm So Confused

The last few days I have been getting visits from all over the world simply because they have apparently been googling this....

I just be missing some worldwide chicken broth festival. I need to make my real version of the broth so these dozen or so people throughout the world would know what real chicken broth tastes like.

What's up with that?

Raymond

Raymond - Brett Eldredge - Brett Eldredge Videos

Tolerance from my back yard

I remember as a kid singing a kid's song about Daniel Boone.  I cannot tell you where I first learned the song, but I guarantee you it was not from my own house.

The silly little song contained a derogatory racist remark about why Daniel Boone ran up a tree when he saw a big bear.

I distinctly remember my mom giving me hell for saying that "word" and told me how ashamed her very good black friend Gladys would be to know that I ever uttered that "n" word.

My mother's words burned into my psyche and I forever on believed that word was one of the worst words you could ever utter.  Nothing makes me cringe more that hearing that word uttered and I don't care what color you are when you say it.  I find it as offensive when the black rappers say it as much as I do when I hear a white racist say it.

Occasionally, unbelievably I will overhear a conversation about the KKK and those people are not condemning the group.   Although I keep calm, I cannot help but explain to them that I was raised Catholic and the KKK hated me and my family as much as they hated people of color.  Most never realize how that hate-filled group not only hated (and still do) blacks, but also Catholics.  Suddenly they find themselves staring into the eyes of someone the KKK hates and the discussion quickly ends.

I remember my mom telling stories of how her southern Indiana town sometimes had burning crosses in their yards because they were Catholic.

I try to stay away from posting blogs about politics, but I see the "new word" vitriol thrown about from the right and left.  They both do it and they are both wrong.

Anyone who carries a sign putting a Hitler mustache on Obama, on George Bush or WI Governor Walker and of course the "evil" Dick Cheney (sarcasm) should be required to spend one day hearing a story of a Jew who had to spend one year in an concentration camp.  Yeah, they have a right to their free speech, but they really need to understand how that free speech was bought, paid and bled for them to be able to carry such disgusting signs.  And maybe they would understand how making those comparisons diminish the true evilness of Adolph Hitler and his attempt to annihilate an entire group of people.

When I was a kid, I didn't have much of a political lean, as I grew older, I slowly grew into a Conservative.  

That doesn't mean I don't love a good discussion with someone that believes differently that I do.  I find those kinds of conversations as interesting as I do with my Hindu, Jain, Jewish, Muslim and even my athiest friends.  I know they will not change my Christian view and I know I will not change their religion or lack thereof, but I find it fascinating the differences and the similarites. 

That being said, I have yet to understand those people I disagree with that turn our discussions into a personal attack.  Believe me, I am not stupid and I cannot help but be offended when people call me filthy names because I believe differently than they do. 

I don't believe that diehard liberals are stupid, I just believe they don't see the world as I see it. 

It becomes apparent early on when I can have an intelligent discussion with someone that has a different opinion than I do and the one that just wants to make it personal.

A year or so ago I used to read and comment on a very liberal (although she thought she was a moderate) blogger.  When she referred to me as a Teabagger, I tried my best to explain to this woman why that was such an offensive term.  It didn't work.  When I backed her into a corner with her own words, she still didn't understand  my position.  It was then I realized I could not have an intelligent discussion with her about anything.

A day after comments back and forth, she posted an extremely nasty blog about all Tea "baggers".  I gave up.  Her hatred spewed out in her blog, which used to be interpersed with some conservative dialogue, but her nasty attacks now leaves her blog comments only filled with her blogging friends who believe only as she does.  It was a shame, she's an intelligent person but ultimately her hatred of anyone who believed differently overtook what used to be a fairly reasonable liberal view.

The same thing happened with a very good friend of mine after she (a few years ago) believed everything Michael Moore said when he directed the movie about 9/11 wherein Bush and Cheney supposedly knew, aided and abetted the attack.  I finally directed the conversation away from her ranting and raving by reminding her that we had met to help a friend who was grieving her sister's unexpected death, not to discuss politics.

Last year our 10 year friendship ended after she was ranting at the party about how unfair it was that some local big celebrity was sending his kids to a private school and this local celebrity thought it was awful that they were paying property tax to the public school and his kid couldn't participate in the public school's sports program, since he didn't attend the public school.  I asked her why that was any different than how I was paying property tax when our kids were long out of public school.  This local celebrity could afford to pay for his entire town and fund any sports facility in the state if he wanted his kids to get the best sports training.

She went on and on and then I made the worst mistake ever.  I answered her question when she asked me if I thought the big local celebrity loved this country.  He is known for being very political and I saw him at Farm Aid in October 2001 when a fan was waving the American flag past the stage.  The other celebrities would take the flag for awhile as they sang, the local celebrity waved his hand in dismissal when the fan tried to hand him the flag.   One month after 9/11 and he refused to touch the American flag.  So I answered her honestly.  I didn't call him Hitler, I didn't scream or yell.  I simply said, "No, I don't believe he loves this country."  That impression in October 2001 forever changed my mind about him, right or wrong, that was the impression he left me with.

One sentence in a rant that had already gone on for 20 minutes.

All hell broke loose.  I felt sorry for our hosts.  I was not about to say I didn't believe what I had just said, and it wouldn't have mattered anyway.  My former friend began to scream at me.  SCREAM.  At a private party of 7.  I did try to calm her down by saying that we would never agree, but that I would always love her anyway.

No change.  The yelling (not by me, I just shut up) when on and on.  The other ladies actually started physically moving her away from me as she screamed, moving closer and closer to my face.  After 10 more minutes I told Bob it was time to leave.  I hated the whole exchange for our hosts.  I went upstairs, put my coat on and the hostess came up to convince me to come back and join the "party".  I hated seeing her in pain, so I went back downstairs hoping my former friend had calmed down.

That didn't happen.  I turned my back, watching Bob and our friend playing ping pong.  In the background was my former friend still ranting and raving how awful I was and how stupid I was to believe what I believed.  The funny thing was that all of the other people in the room had my political belief. Maybe not my opinion of the celebrity, but the rest of the group were conservatives.

I watched the ping pong game for another 10 minutes and when I realize that was not stopping the one-person rant behind me, I made it very clear to Bob that it was time to leave.  I gave the other 4 people hugs goodbye.  Bob hugged the ranting woman who then told him that "some people should just keep their opinion to themselves."  She didn't understand when Bob replied calmly, "That's right Amy, some people SHOULD keep their opinions to themselves."  Her right to speak her mind meant that I was not allowed to speak mine because it didn't agree with hers.  I was just supposed to shut up and sit down.  You see her freedom of speech was so much greater than mine.

The ranting didn't stop after I left and in fact continued all the way home for one couple who had picked Amy up for the party.  After about 15 minutes in the car, our mutual friend finally said, "Amy I will never be as passionate as you are about politics and no amount of you screaming it at me will change my mind."

I was so upset for our hosts because they had loved our get togethers and the host is my oldest friend.  I sent him an email the next day saying I was sorry I ruined their party by saying one sentence that apparently started the complete chaos.    My friend who drove Amy home called me the next day to see if I was okay.  I was never going to bring up the incident (but I would never subject myself to that environment again) but I was so relieved that she understood how hurtful that incident was to me and was glad she stood up for me on her way home.  It was then I cried.  I told her I would always love Amy but that was the second time I had taken her abuse and I could never subject myself to it again.

As much as I would like to let personal verbal assaults about my deeply held beliefs not affect me, I am just not that strong.  When I try to reason with that person and I get only more insults or claims of not understanding why being called filthy names is insulting, I find it necessary to keep those type of people out of my life.  There are too many other dramatic things that are harder to deal with

The only thing that made it better for me was that my good friend of 25 years ( who is like a sister to me) stuck up for me and called me the next day to make sure I was okay.   I really wasn't, knowing how long we had been holding these parties and that all that was gone. 

You might remember the a few couple post back where I said that life doesn't make me cry very often, well this was one incident that it did.

I miss Amy, but I won't subject myself to that type of verbal abuse from a stranger nor will I subject myself to that kind of abuse from someone I love.

I cried all the way home from the party.  I only stopped when my long-term friend called me to say that she thought it was unfair and that she was worried about me.  SHE apologized for her/our friend's attack.   I want to thank her for being a true friend.  A forever friend. 

Tolerance needs to go both ways, but sadly sometimes that just doesn't happen.

What Columbia University is teaching our children.

At 28 years old, he's seen more than most of us would ever imagine in our worst nightmares.

In November 2008, Army Staff Sgt. Anthony Maschek was involved in an horrific battle in northern Iraq.  He was shot 11 times in the battle, earning him the Purple Heart, one medal every soldier would rather avoid being awarded.  He broke both legs and was wounded in the abdomen, arms and chest.

He spent two years at Walter Reed Medical Hospital recovering from his wounds.

Last August he enrolled at Columbia University.

There's a war going on at Columbia, a war on the ROTC and our military.  The school first claimed they did not want the ROTC on their premises because of the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy of the military.  Since that policy has changed, it has not changed the disgust that Columbia instills in their students against brave men and women that serve this country.

Columbia has been holding several sessions about allowing the ROTC on campus.  Although there are a few professors willing to speak up in support of our military, Sociology Professor Emeritus Herbert Gans told the NY Post the following, "Universities should not be involved in military activities," Columbia should come out against spending $300 billion a year on unnecessary wars."

Even more egregious is the reaction that they students now display toward our soldiers.

Maschek was invited to address one of the sessions to discuss his military service.   He said, "It doesn't matter how you feel about the war. It doesn't matter how you feel about fighting. There are bad men out there plotting to kill you."

The reaction of the students?  They began to heckle this man who took 11 bullets for his country.  They began to scream, "Racist" at a hero that fought for their rights to say those words.  They booed him.

All I can tell you is that if I was paying for my kid to attend this school or any like it, I would haul their asses out of that school so fast they wouldn't know what hit them.  And if it was my kid holding up signs like the one below, they would get their next six months education volunteering at some VA hospitals and their assignments would be to document every single war story that those heroes suffered and fought for.

It's apparent that we, as a generation, have failed to instill in a lot of our children how much blood has been shed for their freedom to be able to insult a hero. 

You have to add a lot of twists and stuff.

Remember which movie this quote was from?




The line was delivered by a young boy that actually explained the whole concept of the big suspenseful surprise that came at the end of the movie. It was largely overlooked because most people remember and quote the line he uttered a minute later.  You can guess the movie.

Which brings me to this week.

Late on Monday afternoon I was initiated into the wonderful world of contract work.  After nearly four years working independently for the same client, I was told to pack up my things.

I'll have to tell you I was in complete shock, as was the rest of my co-workers, my friends that I have grown to love.  My phone was ringing off the hook (ok, cell phones don't have hooks, but you get my drift) by all my friends asking what happened.  I had no answer for them as I wasn't really given one.

My major project went live last February, we were still working on fixing the minor bugs and I was beginning a new project.  Then "poof" in the night, it was all over.  I heard the next couple of days was not very pleasant around the office.  Not to sound arrogant, but I pretty much was the life of the party.  Of course the party consisted of people walking past my cube hurling an insult my way and me giving as good as I got.  I really loved the people and the culture.

Since I was self-employed, that meant no unemployment either, not that that could have touched my salary, but at least I wouldn't have felt totally useless.

Still in shock Monday night, I was reviewing my contacts at linkedin.com.  For those unaware, it's a job networking site that I have been on for about 5 years now.  With about 150 contacts, I could see plenty of opportunity to begin working on first thing Tuesday morning.  The last thing I did before going to bed was to update my status.  I simply wrote "looking for opportunities" and called it a night (and a very lousy day).

When I cranked up my laptop Tuesday morning, I had an email from a friend I hadn't seen in a couple years who now owns her own small consulting firm.   Wanted me to contact her right away.  I called and left a voicemail AND sent a responding email.  By 10 am, she emailed me she had a busy day, but wanted to call me at 1:30.  Talked with her about a position she had with a client that needed my skill set.  We set up a meeting for Wednesday.  I spent Tuesday preparing a resume and Tuesday evening running out and buying a couple of interview suits and shoes (that was the worst part).

She called me Thursday, told me her client wanted to meet me on Friday.  About 4 pm yesterday, my new boss called me to say the client thought I was perfect and I could start my new job a week from Monday.  They are giving a rough estimate of 7 months to a year work, but it's a rapidly growing start up company and odds are (unless I screw something up) it'll last longer.

I was so extremely relieved and shocked I could find another contract position before even one week went by.

Bad News,  Good News and then.......

Bob's cell phone woke us early this morning.  His mother only said, "I need help." and hung up.  We threw on some clothes, brushed our teeth and were heading out when Bob was able to get ahold of her again.  We told her to call 911 as his dad was yelling in pain and struggling to breathe.

We flew down the highway and arrived at their house about 6 minutes later and there was no ambulance in site.  His dad didn't want her to call, we all agreed that from now on, we will call 911 regardless of what he says.

He was standing up leaning against a recliner, loudly complaining about the pain and not being able to breathe.  Bob loaded him in our car, I took the backseat and held his hand.  I could tell he was more in panic than in pain.  Thankfully they live only about a mile from a fire station. 

The guys at the station calmed him down right away, got an IV, oxygen mask and on a stretcher.  I rode in the front of the ambulance thinking I could keep him calm, but he had already settled down alot knowing he was getting help.

Come to find out, a few days ago his doc had prescribed medication to help drain the fluid that was swelling the lower half of his body, but they hadn't filled the prescription.  They are very proudful people, sometime to their own detriment. 

They have now admitted him with congestive heart failure and gave him some medication that is definitely removing the deadly fluids from his body.  He'll turn 90 in May and smoked up until about 10 years ago.

We'll be heading back up to the hospital soon and one of us will likely stay with him through the night.  He's a wonderfully old stubborn man that won't listen to many people, but he does what Bobby tells him to do and I gave him a calmer lecture in the emergency room (I save my very stern lectures for my knucklehead brother) and told him that he is not to argue with his wife anymore about calling 911.  He agreed with me, he's been my buddy ever since I began calling him "Burly" even though he's a slight built old guy.

This is a picture of him with my grandson nearly nine years ago on Father's Day.  God I love the guy.  (Actually I love all three of these guys in the pic.)  Say a prayer.  Gotta run.  And by the way, if anyone happens to talk with M. Night Shyamalan, you can tell him to lay off my family for awhile, everyone is a little tired of all the twists and stuff.

This is a good kind of cry.

Found this from a friend on facebook. I don't know if it's really true or not, but it's a good feeling no matter what.

The Post Didn't Start Out That Way

Yesterday's post was supposed to be lighthearted as I was watching some chick on TV manipulating some stupid male by using her tears and the next thing you know I have another "downer" posting.

On a lighter note, my idiot brother has another dumba$$ idea.

I'll Be Seeing You

Photo courtesy of Brian Bruner.


I'll admit it. I cry alot. But....

It's not what you think.

I cry at movies, at posts from bloggers, at silly TV shows. I cry at alot of things.

But I rarely cry about life.

Don't get me wrong, I am not unemotional or unattached, it's just that I find that most women use tears as a way to manipulate people, mostly men. And I don't understand men who can't see through the tears.

When I do cry about something in life, you know it's serious. And when I reach that level, it's not a pretty cry, it's a horrible gut wrenching kind.

Bob, although he's becoming a softy like alot of men do as they age, laughs at me when I'm watching a movie or something on TV that gets the tears flowing. Even after 20 years, you'd think he'd stop saying, "Here comes the rain." when we're watching some sad or very happy show. I honestly think he says it only to keep himself from crying.

I can probably narrow down the things in life that make me cry to three things. Death, Love and Family.

A few years ago, one of my last uncles passed away from pancreatic cancer. Having lost my father 19 years ago, death of anyone, much less someone I love, immediately brings all of that up to the top of my throat and it's very hard to control.

But for some reason when Uncle Bob (yes there are alot of Bob's around in my life) passed away I could not for the life of me figure out why I was not crying.

Yeah, obviously a pancreatic cancer death is not a surprise and although not old, he was in his 70's, but still..... I loved Uncle Bob and (at that time) I had only one uncle left in the entire world.

We spent lots of summer nights at his house growing up.  He was really a funny guy who we all loved.

At the funeral I was sitting directly behind his family, next to my mom. It was a nice funeral, if there is such a thing, but for some reason I kept thinking over and over, "why isn't this bothering me more?" It was the first funeral since my dad died that I didn't spend the entire time crying.  I cry at complete stranger's funerals and I cried all day last week when the IMPD officer was laid to rest as I was iced in and the local station aired the funeral.

As my uncle's funeral was ending, we were standing and about to leave.  But apparently my aunt had told them to play a certain song, one from the 30's/40's era. One of those great songs my mom made sure I heard growing up.

I'll be seeing you
In all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces
All day through.

In that small cafe;
The park across the way;
The children's carousel;
The chestnut trees;
The wishin' well.

I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summer's day;
In every thing that's light and gay.
I'll always think of you that way.

I'll find you
In the morning sun
And when the night is new.
I'll be looking at the moon,
But I'll be seeing you.

As the very first notes played and I recognized the song, I swear that I physically felt like someone had just punched me in the gut. Since I didn't know what was coming, I could not stop the very audible sob(s) that came out of my mouth. It would have been embarrassing, except this was a funeral and it was my uncle and I loved him. And I missed my dad, and I felt horrible for my cousins and aunt and mom and my family and death and and and....apparently I have become very good at burying deep deep down inside the grief that can well up in me at a moment's notice since my dad's death.

And it was made even worse because I was about 20 minutes behind all of the rest of the family's sobbing. And I was LOUD. I really tried not to be, but I just lost it.

Honestly I think it shocked my mom, because I had been perfectly fine one minute and a complete utter pool of grief the next. And they are playing the song, the song my mom had taught me to love when I was so little, as we were supposed to be filing out of the church.

So my mom led me out of the church with her arm grabbing my shoulder as I shuddered my way down the long aisle.

Second Best

Happy 100th Birthday Mr. President

Wish we had someone like him for 2012.

Notice from the County

YOU ARE HEREBY SUMMONED TO APPEAR FOR JURY SELECTION....

Yeah, I won the lottery, even though I tried to explain that I am a self-employed contractor and added "primary wage earner" since Bob is semi-retired.

Last year that worked for being excused, not so much this year. They left a message on my voicemail that said that was not sufficient reason to be excused.

Just got my notice in the mail today.

Not to worry though, they will pay me a whopping $15 for the day and $40 a day if I'm actually selected. Hopefully they'll dismiss me so I won't lose another day's wages.

I'm going to make sure they understand that I am related to police officers, they NEVER want someone related to a cop on jury duty, they may actually believe in siding with the law, weird, huh?

Honestly I would be fascinated to be called for jury duty, if it just didn't cost me alot of money to serve.

There's worse things than coming home to snow.

This is just hitting too close to home.



My heart aches tonight for his family, his friends and particularly his fellow officers.



Tomorrow this fine public servant will be memorialized and on Tuesday he will be rightfully given a hero's funeral.

Paul Harvey's Tribute to our Fine Officers

Hey.... Over Here----->>>>>>>>>

Check out this guy at Rumbles from the Vent

He's the one I wrote about here

Warning: I bear no responsibilities for his antics either today or when we were kids.

The Grateful

Yesterday, I was shown a picture on an Iphone taken late last summer.

The old woman was severely hunched over her walker as she made the difficult journey up a very steep hill. She was not to be deterred from her mission. She spoke only six English words, but that was all she needed to say.

She was 6 years old in April 1945.

When going through his father's belongings, he found eight canisters filled with undeveloped film. He, like most of us, had never asked his father much about his military experience before it was too late. In going through the belongings, he found all of his military paperwork detailing his unit.

After hours and hours of research he found those aging soldiers who had served in the same unit as his father. He could follow the trail the unit had made. While America was planning the invasion of Normandy, there were thousands of soldiers also advancing from the south. His father's unit was among them.

He traced out the path those soldiers took and discovered that every year there was now a dwindling group that would tour the bloody path of war those soldiers trekked, through France and into Germany.

Sixty years later, those battles were resurrected from the eight canisters of film being developed between someone's recent trip to Disney World.

The pictures of the young weary soldiers were also joined by pictures of the atrocities of mankind.

In April 1945, his father's unit helped liberate Dachau. The Americans found 32,000 prisoners alive, 1,600 housed in each of the 20 bunkers designed to hold 250. The Germans had fled to avoid the advancing American troops.

Imagine finding images of the concentration camp along with hundreds, maybe thousands of bodies discarded along the ditches.

Bringing with him the pictures that now had been released from the canisters, he joined the small group that followed the path of the soldiers. Sadly there was now only three of them that remained healthy enough to make the trip.

The young Dachau tour guide was busy explaining to the group the standard memorized words when he was handed a picture of one of the buildings from 1945. He stopped and stared at the picture for a long time in amazement. Suddenly the young man could see the concentration camp as it appeared when the Americans arrived. He took the soldier's son to the building which was still standing, placed him in the precise location where his father had stood and the son took the exact picture his father had taken 65 years ago.

As the small group toured the rest of the camp, the aging bent woman finally made her way to them. She found one of the aging soldiers that arrived there on April 29, 1945.

She lowered herself from the walker and kneeled in front of the old man. She slowly took his hand, kissed it and uttered the only English words she understood.

She said in her extremely broken English, "Thank you for liberating my village."

Who I am and why I blog

After starting this blog nearly two years ago, I doubt that anything I've written answers any of those questions.    With my little Ordinary Life, I can't believe I have even one reader outside of my immediate family who are forced to read occasionally.

Anyway, since there are a handful of people who have happened upon my blog since I first started ( and the fact that I'm too lazy to write something interesting tonight), I'm reposting my very first post that explains just how ordinary a life I have thoroughly enjoyed. 


Dateline February 27, 2009:

I have an ordinary life. I can't say that I have tried to save the world or even one person. I have never made an impact on my country, my state, my town, not even my school when I was a kid.

Last year I attended a Women's Retreat in Indianapolis at a church. I will not say most of the things that happened there, because the beauty of the retreat was not knowing what to expect and when. But it made me look at my life a little differently.

My closest friend and I email several times a week, sometimes several times a day our thoughts, our lives, our funny stories, our sad times, our fears, things we would never tell anyone else because someone who doesn't know us as well might think we're boasting, whining, silly, etc.

In preparation for this weekend retreat I was emailing my friend about how little I had done with my life. I had not spent alot of time helping others. I wanted to, but it seems I'm always too busy. I was comparing myself to a lady that I've met who started a girls rescue house (Rapha House) in Cambodia. Stephanie Freed is an ordinary housewife who believed she could make a difference on the other side of the world and she is, one rescued girl at a time. You will see the blog link on my list of those I follow.

What have I done? Who have I helped? Without ever having kids of my own, how could I ever feel like I will be leaving a legacy?

As I told my friend, in a half joking email. My life has been rather.......pointless.

Of course she took exception to that and it wasn't until later that I realized that what I had just said to her was an insult.

She began working for me when she was 20 years old. She's now about to turn 38. I left that company 12 years ago and we continue to be as close as family. She needed the closeness of a mother and I needed the closeness of a daughter. We have seen each other through good times and bad times, never wavering from our friendship. If she had told me her life was pointless, even jokingly , I would have ripped her a new one for ignoring her importance in my life.

While I was really kidding about my life being pointless, I realized later that the word carries a certain connotation about the other people in my life. She, among many others is very important in my life and I know that I am very important in other people's lives. So then, how can my life be pointless? In fact, those words are an insult to virtually everyone I know and love.

I may not ever get to change things in the world, my state or even my block, but I have to be honest with myself and believe that I mean something to people like my friend. I've been blessed with a very close, tight-knit family that would be there for me, no questions asked. Again, saying my life is pointless is an insult to them and our relationship.

Nearly two years ago I ended up with some two separate fairly serious health issues that landed me in St. Francis Critical Care for 4 days and then, unrelated major surgery 6 weeks later at Community North (having compared to the two, I would advise NEVER go to Community). My 5 year-old grandson came to see me at both hospitals.

Now you have to understand, our grandson is ALL about his Papaw. I had always been an afterthought when Papaw would get busy doing something else. In Community Hospital (another 4 days) after my surgery, Papaw found he did not want to spend another weekend by himself so he asked to pick up our grandson for Saturday night. On the way home, they came to see me in the hospital.

Sunday morning my husband called me and said that our grandson had said he wanted to come see me again before he went back home. There wasn't time, but my husband said he could call me. Normally my grandson would only have one or two words to say to me on a phone call, but he talked to me for 20 minutes. It dawned on me that the previous night had been the first time he had stayed at our house without me being there. He was used to always counting on me listening to him if Papaw got too sidetracked.

A couple months later we were in the car taking him to our house to play. He blurted out of the blue, "Mamaw, I sure hope you don't have to go back to the hospital again." I was shocked by his words, I had made sure I didn't bring up my temporary health issues around him and the last hospital stay was two months prior. We had noticed that since then he would stick close to me, sitting on my lap (which hurt after surgery, but I wasn't going to complain), following me around, asking me how I was feeling, letting me snuggle him more often.

So after his comment about the hospital, it dawned on me that he had continued to question me about how I was ever since he visited me the last hospital stay. I realized then that I needed to calm his fears. He was obviously concerned and quite frankly, I was shocked by that. Neither of my hospital stays were related to each other, however both were fairly serious at the time, but nothing permanent. His continued questioning made me realize that, even at 5, he was concerned that I was really sick.

I explained to him that I was fine and I wouldn't have to go back into the hospital. Then he wanted to know why I had surgery. I thought it best not to explain a complete hysterectomy to a 5 year old, so I told him I had an "extra part" they needed to remove. He wanted to know if it would grow back. I smiled and assured him it would not.

Then he asked, "What would have happened if you hadn't had the surgery." At that time, I realized that I needed to come straight to the point.

I turned around and looked him straight in the eye and said, "I would NOT have died." And that was it. He never asked me again about the hospitals or the surgery. I think he just wanted reassurance that I was ok and he wasn't going to lose me.

Now someone explain to me how I could have said my life was pointless, even if I was half-joking?

So I have an ordinary life. I'm good with that. While I can continue to hope that I will help to make the world better, it reality there are alot of family and friends that would be upset at me for saying that my life is pointless.

No one's is.

And that very statement selfishly ignores those of us around us who loves us and counts on us.

I'm sorry I ever said it. Ordinary isn't pointless.

For a Little Laughter

It's damnyouautocorrect.com.  This is particularly relevant if you have an IPhone.  It's amazing what text you send the exact minute you hit the SEND button.

I am not responsible for any obscene language.

But this site makes me laugh nearly every day.

I want to live where there is no winter.

Are you kidding me?

Forty-nine states currently have snow.  Take a look.

The past two days we've had nasty blowing snow.    Only Florida does not have snow. 

Guess where I "ain't".

I wanna start my whining now.

I hate Indiana.  Except for the month of May.

Let's see, how many more days is it until May?   

Finally. A voice of reason

Although I didn't appreciate the cheers and shouting out from the young crowd filling the auditorium at the university, I finally found that President Obama delivered a comforting and healing speech to all this madness that has overtaken our great nation since Saturday.

His final words were delivered well.

"I believe we can be better. Those who died here, those who saved lives here – they help me believe. We may not be able to stop all evil in the world, but I know that how we treat one another is entirely up to us. I believe that for all our imperfections, we are full of decency and goodness, and that the forces that divide us are not as strong as those that unite us.

That’s what I believe, in part because that’s what a child like Christina Taylor Green believed. Imagine: here was a young girl who was just becoming aware of our democracy; just beginning to understand the obligations of citizenship; just starting to glimpse the fact that someday she too might play a part in shaping her nation’s future. She had been elected to her student council; she saw public service as something exciting, something hopeful. She was off to meet her congresswoman, someone she was sure was good and important and might be a role model. She saw all this through the eyes of a child, undimmed by the cynicism or vitriol that we adults all too often just take for granted.

I want us to live up to her expectations. I want our democracy to be as good as she imagined it. All of us – we should do everything we can to make sure this country lives up to our children’s expectations.
Christina was given to us on September 11th, 2001, one of 50 babies born that day to be pictured in a book called “Faces of Hope.” On either side of her photo in that book were simple wishes for a child’s life. “I hope you help those in need,” read one. “I hope you know all of the words to the National Anthem and sing it with your hand over your heart. I hope you jump in rain puddles.”

If there are rain puddles in heaven, Christina is jumping in them today. And here on Earth, we place our hands over our hearts, and commit ourselves as Americans to forging a country that is forever worthy of her gentle, happy spirit.

May God bless and keep those we’ve lost in restful and eternal peace. May He love and watch over the survivors. And may He bless the United States of America."

An update to my last post

For the Love of God.....STOP IT!  STOP IT!   STOP IT!!!!!!!

What is wrong with you people?   They are still running horrible stories about how political discourse caused this tragedy.

The sheriff in that town needs to be fired TODAY.  He'd rather spout his horrible politcal hate than do his job. 

His office was warned of the death threats ACCORDING TO HIM. 

If anyone has blood on their hands, that man better look in the mirror.

STOP THE POLITICIZING OF THESE HORRIBLE KILLINGS!

This madman had been planning this since 2007 because the government was controlling grammar and he didn't like the Congresswoman's grammar.  How in the name of God, does this relate to the TEA party, Sarah Palin or anyone else?  He even said he planned ahead, but even that hasn't stopped this prostitute we call the media.

I'm going to have to turn off my TV or watch a movie until all of the media scumbag find a new outlet or another tragedy to exploit.

They should hang their heads in shame.

I'm not talking about this guy.

Or this man.

Or this kid.

They each had an extreme hatred for the government but no one can deny that each one of them were sincerely absolutely mad men.  Insane mad men whose madness drove them to murder innocent lives.

I don't believe delirious mad men possess shame, only madness.

BUT.

The people that should be hanging their head in shame are the ones that are lighting up the headlines, blogs, TV and every single media outlet by blaming their "real enemy", the other political party.

It's sickening.  Absolutely appalling.  No amount of political discourse has caused any of these three men to murder innocent men, women and children.

These men are/were sick.

Every single media whore who wants to make a political statement to blame the opposition party for yesterday's tragedy are soulless bastards.  May God have mercy on their souls.

When anyone feels they want to find some blame, please remember this child.

Christina Green

9/11/01 - 1/8/11

That's right.  She was born on the day the rest of America was mourning.  Today we mourn with her parents.  This should not be a political stunt, this is an incredibly sad tragedy.

Let's get our priorities straight.

Since I've been such a downer lately.....

Hope you enjoy the video.

Kevin

This is the fine young man I've referred to in previous posts. As you can see, he's come so far.

Wonderful kid, funny personality and best of all a great outlook on all that his young life has dealt him.

(Please wait a minute or so, the video takes a while to appear, but it's definitely worth seeing.)

That's easy for you to say...

Thankfully Blogger is now blocking these crazy comments from showing up, but they still appear in my email messages. This one was in response to my granddaughter's illness.

Really, does anyone know what the heck this person is saying or hopes to gain by sending this nonsense.

"Well-spring, they studied to be taught that filing lawsuits is not the shoot of battle to restrict piracy. As contrasted with, it's to design something heartier than piracy. Like hypnotic of use. It's indubitably a the hither to tools easier to working-out iTunes than to search the Internet with jeopardy of malware and then crappy faith, but if people are expected to accept the blame for an behold to loads and stricture against ages, it's not affluent to work. They exactly be subjected to a rude without rest hitherto people flight of fancy up software and Spider's snare sites that construct it ridiculously amenable to infringer, and up the quality. If that happens, then there unfaltering be no stopping piracy. But they're too worry and essential of losing. Risks suffer with to be in seventh heaven!"

I think I'll rush right to the link they sent so they can fill my pc with some stupid virus.

Get a Life People!

Because We Believe - And So Does Linus

H/T to Hoosier Boy



I hope each of you have a peaceful and Merry Christmas.

While We Are Sleeping.

Since we are on the subject.......

Dark and early one morning he wanted to lecture me. At least that was what I thought while he was trying to convince me I was about to do something stupid.

It was a winter Saturday, ice had formed over the roads overnight and I needed to leave for my half work day. That great position I managed to secure at the ripe old age of 19. Filing checks at a bank for $2.45 an hour.

Do you remember how much smarter you were at 19 than you are today?

So I ignored my father's advice.

I hopped into my brand new 1978 baby blue Monte Carlo that I bought only four months previously. I loved that baby. It looked like this.

Well, at least it looked like that when I left my parent's driveway that morning.

In 1978, front wheel drive did not exist.  Well, it might have, but every car on the road was not front or all wheel drive like they are today.  Probably nearly anyone under 40 has never driven a rear wheel drive car. 

So, let me do the math here.  I was heading down Greenwood Road to earn a whopping $9.80 for the day. 

The road was mostly flat until you reached a fairly deep crevice.  At the top I remembered something my dad taught me when learning to drive (see, I DID listen occasionally).  I did not alter my speed.  I was driving slow because the roads were completely iced over.  Not snow, ICE.  I did not tap my brakes, he had told me that was always a bad thing to do on ice.

I had no fear at the top of the crevice.  As I eased downward, the back end of my precious blue baby swiveled a little.  I turned the wheel, corrected, well looking back, I over corrected.  I was now heading to the other side of the road.  Corrected/Overcorrected again as I am now in a vehicle that is like a sled with no runners.

Back and forth, back and forth heading down a big embankment, the car gaining gravity momentum.  One side was straight down probably 30 feet, the other side was as deep, lined with trees and brush.

I remember still fighting the wheel as I was desperately trying to straighten this sudden death trap from going straight down.  The car managed one more correction and then I was at a 90 degree angle heading for the side with the trees and brush.

I knew then I was helpless.  I slowly just lifted my hands from the wheel, heard my dad's ignored advice and distinctly remember thinking, "Well God if this is my time, so be it." as I left the pavement.  I KNEW this was the end.

I remember alot of crunching sound and being tossed around a little.  Back then, seat belts were not the law and they weren't shoulder belts.  In either case I wasn't wearing one.  Amazing how many things can run through your mind in the time it takes a car to leave the road and get wedged ten feet down between the trees and the embankment.

As I lifted my head at the end, I was shocked that I was still alive.  Honestly, I was not expecting in that five seconds to live.  I looked over where my left hand was, up by the driver's window and found it missing.  NO, not my hand, the window.

Then I had another thought.  I knew the car was badly damaged and I imagined the gas spilling and decided I better get out of that thing as quickly as possible.  I hopped out the window and I made my way back up the slick embankment, grabbing the trees and brush on the way.

I made it to the other side of the road and was about to head up to a house when I saw a co-worker try to drive past.  She could see the top of my car and almost lost control trying to stop.  When she finally was able to stop she rushed out and asked if I was ok.  I said yes and then she said, "Where are you bleeding?"  She held my left hand up which had blood running all over it.  I did not feel a thing, so I did not know I was bleeding.  I took both my hands and palmed my face thinking I was bleeding from some gaping wound.   I wasn't, it was only my left hand fingers that had apparently helped to break the window during the crash.

I got to work, called my dad, who called the police and a wrecker.

An hour later, dad picked me up at work and took me to the emergency room and then on to where they were towing my car so I could retrieve what little I had in it.  As we pulled up, I saw my precious baby blue baby mangled and I cried like a baby.   (Yes I know there were three babies in that sentence.)  One of my dad's friends walked up to our car to make sure I was okay, thought all my boohoo'ing was because I was hurt.  They told dad they had to get two wreckers to unwedge my car from between the trees and the embankment.   My very first new car was totaled after only four months.  I have pictures somewhere, but locating them and scanning them in would take me forever.

I may not have heard my dad that morning, but I sure hear him every icy day since then even though he passed away 19 years ago, just a few weeks after his 60th Christmas birthday.

Some people still laugh at me when I play it safe and refuse to drive on icy days.  I can do snow, I refuse to do ice.  No amount of money, not $9.80 or thousands of dollars is worth risking my life over.  The people that laugh at me never took that out of control roller coaster ride where I knew my life was ending and all because I wouldn't listen to my dad's sage advice.

Oh and btw, he never said, "I told you so."


H/T to Hoosier Boy  and
Ed for starting and expanding this conversation.