politics = crooked, off balance, skewed

Right wing or left leaning - both are a little crooked. 

If I had any wings at all I'd want a right and a left - so I could fly. 

...and I only lean when I am tired - right or left - I'd rather stand tall and straight.

So, what is the answer? If anyone figures it out please let me know.

Maybe I will expand on this later - after I learn more.

Snow days.

I stayed home from school today. I got a snow day. For the past 30 plus years, snow days have been for the kids, not for me. I remember them when I was a kid - a lot more than 30 years ago. We didn't have as many snow days as you might think, considering the amount of snowy days we had. Sometimes it was a little treacherous getting to school. Our house was at the bottom of the dead end hill, and the school, or course, was a little ways past the top of the dead end hill. I remember mornings when I would take a few steps up the icy hill only to slide a few feet back down. At some point they added a rail to the side of the hill, which was nice, as long as you were wearing mittens so your hands wouldn't stick to it. While the rail helped with walking up and down the hill - it became a hazard when you were sledding. My little brother became an example of the dangers imposed by the rail when he sledded down and hit his head on it. My older brother found him lying there at the bottom of the hill in the snow with his head cracked open and drove him to the town doctor for stitches. I can't blame the rail. To be honest, I'm not sure anyone in the family can accurately count the number of times Joel cracked his head open and had to have stitches.

Snow days were for sleeping in while the snow made itself known by the soft white glow that illuminated your bedroom through the window at dawn. You can hear the quiet of the snow falling softly outside if you listen carefully. I remember getting out of bed and having toast with hot cocoa, happily anticipating a fun day in the snow. We bundled up in our snow suits and headed outside to find our sleds or inner tubes, or even a garbage can lid if need be. Our front yard was surrounded by lilac bushes - the only thing separating us from the dead end hill. The bushes held the snow in almost like one of those big bouncy castles they make now, creating the perfect place for snow angels, snowmen and snow forts.  I miss those days.

When my kids were little my mom still lived at the bottom of the dead end hill and that is where they learned to sled. They also built forts and snowmen in the same yard I had enjoyed as a child. Later mom had to sell the house, and my kids got older, but they still built snowmen when they visited their Grandma Rose. I'm sure they still would if they were there at the right time.

Anna and Noah with one of many snowmen. I love their playfulness.

Noah and Anna with their "snow crocodile."

Even at our house in Kennewick, snow days were special - the only difference was I was the one making the breakfast and bundling up the kids. (or not bundling them up, as you can see by the picture) We didn't have a dead end hill - or any hill really - for sledding, but my kids surpassed me with their snow creations. I remember wishing I could have snow days too, but I usually had to go to work while the kids enjoyed their days off.

Me with the "snow croc"

Now I'm a student and I get snow days. I can hear it falling outside right now, but it is not falling softly, it sounds like a rain stick. It is pretty as long as you don't have to go anywhere on the slick roads and sidewalks. I did bundle up and go outside today, but I was shoveling instead of playing. If my kids were here I might be persuaded to build a snow man, or ice man, as the case may be.


I admit, I was hoping for snow and I was happy to see it. I don't like a winter with no snow, but I know not everyone shares my opinion.  I do hope it will stop freezing and the roads can be safe again soon.

But since I don't have school, I'm going to enjoy it. 

Happy Snow Day!

Thank you for the gifts.

Well, Christmas is over again. All the decorations are taken down and have been put into storage until next year. Thomas is missing his tree - and I kind of miss seeing how happy it made him! I always love turning out all the lights in the house except for the tree and just staring at it until I fall asleep. I think Thomas and I have that in common.  I know Christmas is not about the gifts, although I'm sure the retailers might not agree with me. That said, I got some nice gifts. Since I'm not sure I will get around to writing thank you notes I will just say it now - to anyone reading who gave me a gift -  THANKS!!!!! I really love the gifts and have been enjoying them all very much.

I had to return the coat for a larger one - probably because I enjoyed my own baking this season as much as everyone else did! I thought about keeping it for AFTER I lose weight, but decided I might want to wear it in this lifetime so I am anxiously awaiting the new one!

I have wanted one of these record/cassette/cd players for a long time. Now that I have it, I can't find my records! What I am most excited about is that I can burn my old cassettes onto cd. I need to get started before they disintegrate completely, as they are getting old. I have recordings of Anna and Noah when they were little - singing songs, reciting their A,B,Cs and just being silly. I have a recording of my mom preparing lunch while pretending to be Julia Child and one of the immortalized "Disney Family Singers" - my mom, my sister and me "singing" Disney tunes. They are precious! But the thing I want most is to hear my dad's voice. It was caught on the tapes - in the background.  I wish I'd realized then how special those breakfast table conversations were. They were the most important part of the day, with the most important people. This is what we should always remember - it is the daily conversations that matter. The things that seem the least significant always end up being the things we wish we could have back.  It is the little things that matter - not even so much what is said, but how it is said. How many times do you long to hear the voice of someone you love? 

I am just feeling quiet inside right now - thinking about gifts and how the greatest gifts in life are the ones that don't cost a thing. They are the smiles, the words and the love from our parents. So, I didn't capture everything on tape....but if I'm real quiet...and if I really listen....I can still hear you Dad.

Repeating myself...

This post is not new information. I decided to apply for a scholarship and i had to write an essay on the following question -  What was the most difficult time in your life, and why? How did your perspective on life change as a result of this difficulty? 

This is not awarded until June - but it was worth a try. My essay is below:

I have a hard time, as a 51-year-old, trying to decide which difficult time in my life has been the most difficult.  By the time a person reaches this age they have usually experienced a lot of loss.  In my life I have lost friends and relatives, among them, my brother, my nephew and my father. I have lost things that held sentimental value and I have lost beloved pets. Every loss is painful, and from every loss – if you choose to – you can grow.

When I turned 30 and both of my children were in school full time I found myself feeling insignificant and wishing I had finished college. Instead I got a part-time job working at the local newspaper as an advertising courier. On my job application I wrote that I had always wanted to work for a newspaper. That was it. I didn’t have any special skills to offer and have always felt fortunate that I was hired.

I worked my way into the full time job of layout person, and later, was given the added responsibility of managing people. The years passed, my children grew, and so did I. My daughter went to college and my son went to war and there were times when I thought maybe I should go back to school. But I was comfortable, and my job was predictable and allowed me flexibility.  I was blessed to be able to write some stories and book reviews that were published in the paper. One of my stories even won a journalism award of which I am very proud.

In 2008 things started to change at the paper and we had our first round of layoffs. We cried as long-time co-workers were forced to start over. I was left with one employee to manage – the woman who was actually my first boss - and who holds the distinction of being there longer than anyone.

In 2009 and 2010 there were more layoffs, as well as pay cuts, benefit changes and unpaid furloughs. We tried to come up with new ways to keep going without losing more people.  I turned 50 and while work was difficult, I felt confident that my position was safe. It was a unique position and key to the paper getting out each day. I no longer thought about going back to school – I thought about retirement. What I failed to recognize was that I was still considered a manager on paper, and as a manager, my layout job would not keep me safe. My 20 years of loyalty and my seniority were not factors in the decision that would lead to the most difficult time in my life.

On May 9, 2011 I was told that my job, as it was, was no longer needed. I was offered a choice to stay at 32 hours per week doing my layout job or to take a severance package and leave. Leave? I was “Nancy from the Herald”.  I had 5 days to make my decision. I spent the first day in tears, the second day in shock and by the third day I was angry.  How could I make that decision in such a short time? I needed a crystal ball. I decided instead, to roll the dice. I took the severance. I worked another week with the people I loved, in the building I loved, doing the work that I loved and then I packed up and walked out. When you get laid off you don’t get a cake and a party in the lunchroom. Most people don’t even say goodbye because they don’t want to see the pain in your eyes – they don’t want to stare into the reality that could become their own.

I thought I would go to college. It seemed easy enough; after all, I qualified for the Dislocated Worker program and Worker Retraining. What people don’t understand is that when you lose the only real job you ever had and you don’t have transferable skills, the path becomes murky. All of the self-esteem I had found 20 years earlier was suddenly gone. I was scared and unable to make choices.

After a couple months of crying and doing my 3 job contacts per week I realized that I didn’t feel qualified for the jobs that I was applying for.  I decided to attend the Worker Retraining orientation at Columbia Basin College. I took the forms and the list of courses and I got in my car and cried all the way home. There were no courses on the approved “in demand” list that spoke to me, so I signed up for the skill-building classes at Work Source instead. I took everything they offered and I did well. I was proud of my grades and ready to find a new job. But – the jobs that had appealed to me when I didn’t feel qualified  - all seemed to be filled now that I did.

So, I cried some more and then, once again, called Worker Retraining. The list of courses changed, but only in that it had gotten shorter. I chose Business Administration because it most closely fits the skills I have and I can take some electives. I am hoping to fit in a creative writing class. I registered for winter quarter and as I write this, I have just completed my first week as a college student at Columbia Basin College.

As I started this essay and thought about loss I realized that I have been reluctant to say that losing my job was the most difficult time in my life. But I can’t deny the truth.

My entire life has changed right along with my perspective. You should never let a job define who you are. You should never take anything for granted and most of all, you are never too old to learn something new.

The blog I wanted to write

I woke up this morning wondering about how honest a blog should be.  I mean, it is mine and these are my thoughts and my feelings. I have always considered myself to be honest to a fault - but that doesn't mean I have to or should share everything. But I want to.

I start school tomorrow. I haven't said that in over 30 years. I am excited and afraid. I am hoping the excitement will become the dominant emotion as time goes by.  In my 30s I wished I'd finished college and later, I wished I could go back. But, the truth is, once I hit 50 I really thought those fleeting wishes were gone for good. 

The past 7 months have been really hard. They say that what won't kill us will make us stronger. Believe me, after I lost my job I heard all the clichés that were meant to make me feel better. I have thought and dreamed and talked and talked and talked about this until I was sick of myself. I finally had to realize that talking about how they 'done me wrong' is not the same as 'networking'. I have told the story so many times, with the same well thought out words that I have my own original set of clichés. 

Here is one - "The Herald that I loved is no longer in that building, but carried in my heart." Another, "The Herald made me the person I am, allowed me to learn and to change my life for the better." 

...And finally, "The Herald let me write." 

I won't lie - it still makes me cry - often without warning. 

I will NOT use another line that has become cliché - "They did me a favor." No, I will probably never think of it as a favor.

That is not to say that I won't come out of this a better and stronger person.  While I have said that I don't want to be a victim, I can also say that losing your job in this economy does make you a victim of sorts.

I know that no one was out to get me. But, here is another truth - I feel betrayed. I remember the morning I was told that that my job, as it was, was no longer needed. I remember it in flashes of facial and verbal expressions.  I know one of the facial expressions well, and I still interpret it as fake caring and concern. Another expression I see in my mind's eye is one I still can't interpret - it was either anger - or someone just trying to hold onto what might have been sincere regret. The words, let's not forget the words  - "it is not personal." It was and is personal and it always will be. I am not writing this because I need any more sympathy or empathy - believe me, I've gotten plenty of both. I am not the first person to endure this. What this is - is the truth, it is my truth and no one can change that and no one has a right to dispute it. 

I miss my friends and I miss being needed. I missed it a lot during the holidays when, although I finally had time to bake and shop - I had little or no human interaction for most of the days leading up to Christmas. 

So, I guess this is the blog that had to be written.  This is the one where I finally let go of the anger and the grief.  This is the one where I can finally say goodbye to "Nancy from the Herald" and say hello to "Nancy the student." 

I'm not sure if I will learn more at college than I have learned just living life and getting the perspective a person gets from loss, and yes, from love.

But I will learn. 

Button button, who's got the button?

Button, button, who has the button? Oh, where can it be?
I have to find it, I have to find it, If I could only
Johnny holds his hands so tight, Mary will not tell,
Jimmy looks as though he might, They’re hiding it so well
Button, button, who has the button? Oh, where can it be?

.... Verna Meads Surer

I woke up this morning and made my way to the couch. As I looked towards the entertainment center, my eyes fell upon a cute little stuffed snowman that my sister made many years ago. I realized how happy it makes me that he can sit looking at me and smiling at me, simply because my sister decided to sew some buttons onto the space beneath his hat. I have always liked buttons - especially old ones, like these:

I used to have old tins of buttons, some as full of lint as they were of buttons. Now I have just one jar of buttons. Many of them are in tiny envelopes with thread to match some item of clothing that I may or may not still own. 

So, here I sit, thinking about buttons and how they really don't look like much just on their own, but they can become the best part of a jacket or favorite blouse. A missing one can result in an often procrastinated task - sort of like those loose ends we have already talked about.  Mostly though, I remember Frosty - with his button nose - and how buttons are almost always associated with cuteness - such as our little grandson William who we think is cute as a button.