Looking out my window...

Destination of Retreat Disclosed: Starved Rock Illinois State Park

  
Illinois State Park  "Starved Rock" Photograph  by SWJensen

 

In my post about "Sparrow on The Ground" I talked about being depressed and, per my doctor, I needed to take several weeks away from home in a secret location.

Now that I'm back home I am able to disclose my chosen spot. As we live in Illinois we decided on going to one of our State Parks called "Starved Rock." While it is only a few hours away from us, I had never been there before. And, as many of our Parks are, it was gorgeous.

Since the trip was on such short notice we unfortunately had to stay in a motel for the duration as the Lodge Hotel was fully occupied (we've already decided to return with proper accommodations reserved).

Before we left we had to decide what to do with our doggy Copper. Originally I thought we would take him. It costs more to have him with us, but we are a pack after all. The plan was to spend the days under a shaded tree with Copper leashed appropriately, petting him to soothe the two of us, and reading a book via my IPad 2. And then, as the departure date arrived the weather decided to turn into a 100 degree heat wave being forecast to last throughout the entire stay.

For me it would have been better to be a snow storm. I have never tolerated heat well. Ask my mother. She knows. On a family trip with my parents and my adult self we drove from Illinois to California. No air conditioning in the car and camping along the way. After one long day's drive in ungodly heat I went crazy. Pulling at my short hair and long bangs (which continues to be my signature hairdo), sweating and shouting "I can't take this anymore!" I found some scissors, went to the bath house and proceeded to cut my bangs off as well as most of my hair. I've seen old movies where the starlet had to shave her hair as punishment for cavorting with Germans. It was NOT the first time I'd done this...the first time was when I was doped up and in unbearable pain with a migraine and my distorted thinking was if I cut off all my hair the pain with go with it.

Sorry, I got distracted. So here is this horrible heat wave upon us. It changed our plans because we weren't sure how to handle Copper. He couldn't be outside in the heat either. Neither did we want to leave him in a motel room alone as he howled his feelings of mistreatment and abandonment to the rest of the guests.

So we were down to two choices. We could leave him at the Vets for $30 a day, and more if we wanted them to let him out of his cage more than twice a day. Or, he could stay with our daughter and her three teenagers. While this was a better place than the Vets, it still had its downs. As you may know, a home with three teenagers is full of raging hormones. Copper is very sensitive to raging hormones. And, even more importantly, our daughter is not well and I thought the addition of our dog might cause more tension for her. When I spoke to her about Copper she told me of someone in our town who took dogs in.

Bob looked in the phone book and found the perfect solution. A lady who has two small dogs of her own and loves dogs in general takes in a dog or two as companions to hers. The fee was very acceptable. With a nice lady, a large fenced in yard, and two buddies, Copper would be in heaven. I was so relieved knowing we could leave him in a safe and happy place.

And leave him we did.

 
  

To be continued…

"The Girl Who Had Everything" - Elizabeth Taylor

 
Elizabeth Taylor: "Lassie Come Home" 1943

Elizabeth died today at 79. Whenever someone mentions her name I think of the Elizabeth Taylor as seen in the above photo. Not Cleopatra.

When I was a little girl I watched a lot of "old" movies. Some known as "B" movies. I fell in love with Cary Grant. Some had child stars of the time including Judy Garland, Mickey Rooney, and Taylor. I liked Elizabeth especially because of her voice and that she and I shared the features of dark hair and a plainness of face.

I also liked her later movies before the jewels and glitter of "Cleopatra." Her mother was an actress and so was she. Not just a pretty face. She did marry a lot. Her average marriage lasted five years. I don't know why. I don't think she suffered from the Marilyn low self esteem. She was a strong and passionate woman. Perhaps too strong for the men of her time. I don't know.

I do know she will be missed by many people for many different reasons.

You Took My Dreams From Me...

 

My friend Janice sent this to me. I've never heard of the group or the singers. But, she does not send me uninteresting things. Usually, good things. And so I watched and listened. I hope you will do the same.

What I particularly reacted to were the lyrics toward the end:

I could have been someone.
Well, so, could anyone. You took my dreams from me, when I first found you.
I kept them with me Babe, I put them with my own, can't make it alone, I built my dreams around you.

I do like the sound of Irish music. Even the happy songs are sad. Which, to my way of thinking, is the truth. Any happiness we have, upon close inspection, is often the result of something sad. You can't have one without the other.

Anyway, back to the video. The singer Shane MacGowan seems to be a wee bit wobbly due to a drop or two of gin. And, of course, the woman singer is the stable one. (Am I just personalizing this?)

My first husband. Cue for the Chief to say "You were married before"? Yes I was. Continuing... my first husband was an intelligent, talented man. I had dreams of my own of "making it" in something. I just hadn't figured out what that something was. And so, like many women, I let him take my dreams to add to his own. You know, the woman behind the man kind of thing. That was, after all, the philosophy I grew up in.

Unfortunately, he was also an alcoholic and a wife abuser. We did have happy times, good times. But, the bad and sad were becoming more frequent. These were the times before "wife abuse" was considered wrong and not acceptable. After almost nine years I finally had the courage to leave him. That courage was my baby daughter. If not for her, I probably would have stayed even longer.

Back to the video. I was so curious about the singers I looked them up on Youtube and watched Shane as he swirled down an abyss of gin. Losing his teeth. Unable to speak clearly. Yet, remembering exactly the words to his songs as he sang.

The female singer is Kirsty MacColl who at 41 died a horrible, but courageous death at 41. They were not partners from what I can tell. I'm glad for her.

My dreams went with my ex. I was a single mom with a baby to support. And so, I did what I had to do and that was to work and survive.

I was curious about my ex recently. He had hit hard times in the past, literally lying in the gutters of Chicago. He rehabbed several times. I had not seen nor heard from him in an eternity. I decided to search his name on the internet. I found him. I found his obituary. He died about four years ago. That was a jolt, leaving me as the only one with those memories. Sad. I'm sure this is a feeling experienced by widows.

Now, some thirty-five years after leaving him, I have a loving husband, daughter and three grandchildren. I have survived many things, including cancer.

And, I think I have reclaimed my dreams. You can see them in my blog.

Bridge Over Troubled Water

 
Drainage Pipe Photo found on internet.

Are you afraid of something? I mean like a phobia of a specific thing? Do you remember how you found out you were afraid? One horrible winter day, when I was in my very early teens, I had an experience I will never forget.

My girlfriend and I decided to take a walk from the older side of town to a new addition that was being built. In between the two locations was a vast wild field. A small creek flowed through the meadow, although we did not know it at the time. "Cuz this was an adventure!"

There was about six inches of snow over the ground, blown away in some parts, with high drifts in others. Even so, do you think we wore boots? Ha! Never on your tintype. As we walked along, our feet would sometimes break through a crust of ice between the snow and the ground, and our shoes would get wet from the melting ice beneath. The walking was hard work and it would take a bit of time to get to our destination.

About three-quarters of the way we finally came upon the creek. Now that I think of it, it was probably a drainage ditch rather than a creek. But, creek sounds better for the story. It was about 20 feet across with an immediate drop to about four feet below. The water was frozen.

We would never have dared to walk across it, knowing that the ice would probably break. But, we were in luck. There was a huge cement pipe coming out of the ground, going across the ditch, and entering the ground on the other side. It was a huge pipe, maybe four to five feet in diameter, making it easy peasy to cross. Aha, a bridge!!!

My friend went first. Not slowly, but carefully, as I watched. Okeedookee, my turn. I took a few steps and got out almost to the middle when I looked down. I don't know what happened to me, but I couldn't move any further. My friend yelled at me to "come on." But, I was frozen in place. "I can't!" I yelled back.

And, I couldn't. Standing there, my two feet secured themselves on the cement pipe, my arms out to my side like a circus tight rope walker. Nope, those feet weren't about to go anywhere. I think I was in a state of mortal fear. "Walk!" she said. "I can't move!" I answered.

And, there we were. But, where was superman when I needed him. "Go baaaack!" she said. "I can't move!" I answered. I couldn't even move my head. I was like one of those wax figures in Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum.

Time stood still.

I was frantically thinking I had to do something. But, what? I finally decided to lower myself down on the pipe so I would be straddling it, rather than standing. "Good, crawl over to me!" she said. "No, I can't!"

I ended up butt walking, more or less, backwards to the beginning of the pipe and was able to crawl onto the ground. I could breathe once more.

I had been terrified, helpless and cold. I couldn't feel my feet anymore. My face was covered with frozen tears. I needed my mommy.

My parents weren't home that day. Fortunately, the minister of my church lived close by. We stopped there. I told my sad story through more tears. Telling him that my feet were frozen and I feared frostbite. He and his wife took care of me very tenderly and seriously. Just the right combination for dealing with a young teenager: I felt loved and I was being taken seriously.

So, that's my story about discovering I was afraid of heights. Well, not exactly heights. Just anything above ground level. Even today, if I am going down or up stairs, I suffer from vertigo. And, don't even ask me about driving in the mountains!

My regret is, I never had an opportunity to tell Alfred Hitchcock my story. I think it would have made a good movie.

Oh, and what brought all this to mind is a video that my dear Roger Ebert had on his blog. Hold on and enjoy.

 

Happy, Happy Birthday Baby!

October is my blog's birth month. Started it in October of 2009.

Probably never thought I would still be blogging after a year. If you go back to the first few blogs I wrote, you'll read about someone who had no idea why or what they were doing. I still don't.

But, this I do know. People are reading my posts. People are enjoying them. People have smiled while reading them. And people have written back to me.

My age is a secret. Only my husband, my mother, sister and brother know for sure when I was born. But, I am old enough to have memories. Yup. I have lived long enough to have memories, stories and lessons to remember. One of these days, I will trip up and remember something that is older than I am. And, that's when other people will know.

This may be one of those memories.

Pink and charcoal gray were very popular colors at one time. Felt skirts with loads of crinolines underneath. Collars of blouses turned up in the back. Hair styles called "D A's."  I had little bells on my "gym" shoe laces for basketball games in High School.

I never got bullied. But, I never fit in. I felt I wasn't pretty enough for the boys to like me. I wasn't smart enough to be in the "egghead" group, but I was too smart for the popular group. My collar was turned up and I identified with the "hoodies." But, I really didn't fit in there either.

"It gets better" is the new campaign for kids that are bullied. And it does. Once I got out of High School and into College everything changed for the better.

And then came last October 2009. Little did I know at the time I would find an other, newer format to use what creativity I had. And, that was to write. Write short posts on something called a "blog." And I found it because my health had deteriorated. I had taken an early retirement when all my sick, personal, and vacation days were used up at work. I had always worked at a job. Always. I decided to volunteer. Learned how to edit videos for local television.

And then another health blow: Fibromyalgia. It's a disease that hurts somewhere or everywhere. Movement causes pain. So I choose my activities very carefully. I enjoy being on my computer. I stay inside most of the time. I enjoy looking out my windows. And, I love blogging. I could focus on all the things I'm missing. I prefer to enjoy what I can do.

So the following is in honor of my blog's birthday. Be forewarned that while you are listening, I just might be dancing the "stroll."

Join me.

The Tune Weavers - Happy Happy Birthday Baby (Checker records) on 78 rpm! From 1958.

 

Blind Date: Homer The Poet And Me

 
Homer The Blind Greek Poet

So long ago, this happened so long ago. I was a mere child of 20ish. Out of college, living on my own, working.

Mostly I worked in filling orders, but I also helped with reception and telephone duties. And in doing so, was able to "know" the people who called in. One in particular was not calling on business, but rather to talk with his male friend, one of our reps...a short man with reddish hair and left over baby fat.

The caller's voice was as smooth as butter and as deep as the ocean. Or, so it seemed to me. It made it easy to recognize him and eventually we became "friendly" on the phone. He called a lot.

He was Greek, a father of two small children, unmarried, a widower as I remember it, and in his mid to late thirties. Yes, an older man. And, he was ready to start dating. (I don't remember his name, so let's call him Homer)

I asked our rep about Homer and I finally I said okay to a blind date. My first. Homer lived in Indiana. I lived on the edge of Old Town in Chicago, in a new high rise, with a co-worker as a room-mate.

At the time I was just hitting my stride as a "hippy." A flower child. So I wasn't exactly the epitome of a typically normal middle class girl.

As an aside, I was never really anything typically expected. I may have dressed appropriately at work, with appropriate behavior, blending in
with whatever group I was among...but never ever was I "one of them."

The big night came. I was fussing around getting ready and was over the top nervous about the whole deal when the door bell to the apartment rang. I very quietly walked to the door and looked out the peep hole. GASP!

I rushed back into the bathroom and told my room-mate that I couldn't possible open the door, let alone go out with him. YIKES! She and I whispered back and forth. Oh, what to do. What I had seen outside the door looked a lot like the silhouette above. A very tall man in a long black coat and a black fedora. His face was distorted by the fish-eye viewer, but it did not look like it would be enhanced without it.

Finally, my room-mate opened the door and asked him in "She will be ready in a minute."

OMG(still in the bathroom). I had to do it. I had no choice. My mommy had taught me a few social graces, but nothing that came even close to this situation.

Hello.
Shall we go for a drink?
Okay, let's go.

I could barely look at his face. It might have been better  when it was distorted. He had very dark shadows under his eyes (I think that's a Mediterranean trait). And I kept telling myself what a terrible person I was for wanting him to be good looking.

We walked to a nearby bar in the trendy Old Town area. I had three, yes I did, three White Russians. We talked about the weather. Or, maybe we didn't. Everything at that point is a haze.

After the third drink I told him I had a very bad headache and I needed to go home and I was so sorry, especially since he had driven a ways to meet me, and I could get home on my own, thank you very much, and I would talk to him later at work, and thanks for the drinks, waving good-bye and so long.

I left. I walked north about four blocks and went to my favorite bar with my favorite bartender, had a fourth White Russian and went home.

My first blind date and...my last!.

So far.

"Accepting Invitation Cardinal Comes To Visit - Shies From Paparazzi" And "I Don't Have A Supervisor!"

 
Cardinal Returns To Patio  Bad Photo by Sharon

 

 
Goldfinch In Sunshine  Photo By Sharon

I apologize for the cardinal picture above. I was so excited to see him in our patio. I took several pictures which looked good and clear on the viewing screen, but afterward saw that the camera setting had been changed. And that little boo-boo spoiled all the photos. This was the best of the worst and I did with it what I could. Result? Ugh.

The Goldfinch, on the other hand, willingly posed and provided me with, now, one of my favorite photos.

I Have No Supervisor!

A few years ago, in an effort to economize, I switched our cell phone service to Fonecrap (not real name to protect self from being sued). It was cheap and worked somewhat.

The program was based on prepaid service. Poor service, but service non-the-less. And then, it came time to also order a new phone. So on-line I ordered a new one plus about 2,000 minutes worth of usage. If I remember correctly, you could use those minutes however you wanted, but once they were gone, you had to order more.

The phone arrived. And, as most of you will know, I had to set it up, or as they called it "initialize" it for service. And, I had some difficulty with that small task I hadn't anticipated. The next day I tried the phone and it indicated that I had zero minutes. What? No minutes? Why just yesterday I had some 2,000 minutes and I hadn't called anyone yet.

There was nothing else for me to do but call customer service to fix it.

I called and the woman who answered said: "THanK YOU for cAlliNG PHonecrAP. HOw May i HELp yOU TODay?"

An aside: Okay, I'm not much good at vocally immitating accents, much less when using the printed word. So I'm typing what would sound rather melodic (or sing-song, take your pick).

My response: Hi, yes. I received my new phone and 2000 minutes yesterday and today it says I don't have ANY minutes.

"OnE mOMenT plEaSE...whILe LOok uP yOur aCcOunT."
Pause.
"yeS I sEe. yOU CUrREntly sHOw zERo MinUtES."

"I just purchased and received yesterday 2,000 minutes!"

"YEs i SEe tHAt. aND NOw yOU hAVe zERo mINUtes."

"I understand that it shows zero minutes, but it should show 2,000 minutes. I just got them yesterday. How could I have used them all up?"

"I SEe zERo mINuteS." 

This back and forth continued. Until I couldn't take it anymore, damn it to hell and whose job did you take anyway Miss India lady reading from a damn it to hell script!!!!!!!!!!!!! And then....

"I want to speak with your supervisor."

"I sEE yOU hAVe zERo mINUtes.l"

"I WANT to SPEAK with your supervisor!"

"I DON't haVe a sUPerVIsoR."

"WHAT? EVERYONE HAS A FU**kING SUPERVISOR AND I WANT TO SPEAK WITH YOURS!!!"

"ONe MOmeNT plEaSE."
Pause.

"HelLO. How may I HelP yOU?"

"Hello, I just...............rest of my story."

"CerTAInLy. I CAn heLP yoU With thAt. ONe moMEnt pLEasE........Okay, doES It sHOw aNY mINUteS nOW?"

"Yes, it shows I have 2,000 minutes. Thank you."

"PLeaSe cALl uS If yOU HaVE aNY MoRE DIFficultIEs."

At the time we were recently living where we are now and apparently it is known for poor cell phone reception. Once, sitting in a town restaurant I tried to call the Chief. I couldn't get him. He was looking at me through the restaurant window and couldn't get my signal, nor me, his.

 When we used our 2,000 minutes I switched to Verizon. Expensive? Yep. Do we get each other's calls? Yep.

'nough said.

 

Quote of the day:

"Now that I'm retired I don't have a supervisor. Except for God. And he's about to be out sourced."...S L Wheeler 

Stories of Unemployment During The Current Millennium

Mighty Hunter in the 21st Century
Thursday, August 5, 2010

About Me

 Mighty Hunter 
A Time for War, and A Time for Phone Interviews. Or However That Song Goes.

I didn't expect any casualties but I girded for battle anyway.
http://bit.ly/admYUS

I follow the Mighty Hunter on twitter. The above link is for his blog. His story is a great one. Please read and follow him. Below are my comments.

**************************************

 
Again, sir, you have trigger memories that I will herewith describe and add a link to you on my blog.

I was living about 50 miles south of Chicago and was once again laid off. I had an interview with the human relations department of a large, well known company in the "loop." They loved me. And why not? I was a catch.

They had me come in for interviews with different people in the HR department, taking written tests, oral tests... you woulda thought I was trying to get into Harvard. After HR was through with me, they set up an interview with a department head which went well.

A week later I was informed that the department was being reorganized. Department Head and job were no longer there. Another interview, and another for about seven interviews for specific jobs.

During the latter of those interviews I interviewed with another well known Chicago company. Two interviews, two total interviews and I was hired. They got a catch.

I then had the pleasure of informing the first place that I was no longer interested in them. Ha!

Each time I interviewed, it was as Mighty Hunter (above) described. The process of gearing one's self up for the battle. The concentration. The appearance. The confidence. The walk. The hand shake. And ready with answers for those surprise questions that are always asked.

The job I did take ended up being the best job I ever had... with the best boss I ever had.

Post Script. I hated the first place's registration area. The modern decor looked good. But, was very low to the ground. If I sat on a chair or the couch, there was no way for me to get up, as I am old and decrepit. After that discovery I never sat while waiting to be called.

Post Post Script. Just two months after I started my new position, the first company was involved in a horrendous scandal and eventually, for all practical purposes, shut down. Ha! Again.

As an aside, about two days after being on the job I got called in to the HR department. Really weird. Like I was a thief or...something...

I had failed my drug test! But that's another story.

Breaking News: Harrier Lands and Takes Off From Our Patio!

When I first met the Chief he was in the habit of attending an air show held in Oshkosh Wisconsin. The largest air show there was at the time. Maybe still is. He took me one year and we went together every year thereafter until....I don't remember why we stopped. You'll have to ask him.

The Concorde

Anyway, in the beginning, I was not exactly a fan of airplanes. I did, however, come to love one or two of the planes that would be there. The Concorde came one year. It was love at first sight. I don't fly. I don't fly unless absolutely necessary and with a lot of Absolute vodka. But, wow that plane is breath-takeningly beautiful.

The day it was to return home we went to see it take off. It was very early, but we went. We were right at the fence, so at most about 40 feet from where it would pass us. We stood around a long time. Finally, the sound of the engines started...shivers went down my spine. And, as it approached us, it lifted its head with a thunderous good-bye and was off the ground and gone. The pure beauty of it made me cry. Really. If any one had ever told me I would cry at the sight of an airplane I would have laughed a very long time.

The Harrier  

The other plane I loved was the Harrier Jet. At certain times of the day it would demonstrate taking off. The Chief explained to me how it worked so I could appreciate what I was about to see. Like a giant robot bird it roared, lifted slightly, hovering a few minutes before it shot up into the sky. I'll never forget it.

But I think, by now, you've guessed that the Harrier Jet did not land or take off from our patio. But rather the

 
The Northern Harrier Hawk

And, sorry, I didn't have time to take a picture. I was on the computer (when am I not?) and saw in my upper peripheral vision a rather large shadowy motion. I Immediately looked up and saw landing on the fence pole (yes the same one that has had cardinals, robins, and other small birds on it)... a huge bird. I'm guessing around 24" or so. I thought about taking a picture and my better judgment told me to take a picture in my brain. It stayed mere seconds. Then took off toward the setting sun.

I grabbed my bird book and looked. The one that looked the most like it and matched its size was the Northern Harrier Hawk. What a sighting he was! And then I thought about the little finches...It was like "death" had visited the patio. Everything was quiet, silent and void of any life forms. It took about 20 minutes for the finches to carefully come out from the Linden tree.

I think, for me, it was a once in a lifetime experience...a Harrier Hawk roosted on my fence pole.

Drug Reps, Doctors, Patients and Funeral Directors

"The Nervous Breakdown"

Take This Logo and Call Me in the Morning

by PAUL A. TOTH
SARASOTA, FL
29 July 2010

 http://twitthis.com/c57259toth

Very good article. Anyone who has a doctor and/or takes prescribed medication will find it worthwhile reading.

Below are my comments to the article:

I worked as a Department Manager at a hospital for almost 17 years. There were two types of professional people (other than hospital staff) who you could pinpoint from across a crowded room:

1. Funeral Directors. They all looked the same with black suits and ties. They were always in a hurry and thought they and what they wanted to achieve were more important than anything else at the moment. They all had a demeanor of a grieving tzar.

2. "Detail Men." The most used term for pharmaceutical reps. They were usually male back in the day. Now I think the females may have overtaken them. They looked like funeral people in the way they dressed: all black suits. They feel important. They bring gifts to the Doctor's staff to help get them in the office. Once in there, the Doctor gets the really good stuff. Although, a free lunch for staff is a real winner. They differ from the funeral guys in that they alway have a black carry-on type of suitcase on wheels - dragging it behind them with all the goodies inside. And, while their stance indicates they are important, they have smiles on their faces.

Come to think of it, there is a number 3 that both 1 and 2 feel like (to me): slimy used car salesmen.

Personally the less contact I have with either number 1 or 2 or 3 the better.

The best logo goody I ever received was a solid ceramic blue Thorazine tablet paperweight. I had it for a few years before it was finally stolen.

The doctor got a free trip to a Medical Conference in Jamaica.