Looking out my window...

Wisconsin Unions Against The Governor: Solidarity Forever!

This is for all the Union Members in Wisconsin protesting the union "busting" being put forth by the current Governor of Wisconsin.

A Song by Ralph Chaplin1915

  

When the union's inspiration through the workers' blood shall run
There can be no power greater anywhere beneath the sun
Yet what force on earth is weaker than the feeble strength of one
For the Union makes us strong

Chorus
Solidarity forever, solidarity forever
Solidarity forever
For the Union makes us strong

Is there aught we hold in common with the greedy parasite 
Who would lash us into serfdom and would crush us with his might?  
Is there anything left to us but to organize and fight?  
For the union makes us strong

It is we who ploughed the prairies, built the cities where they trade
Dug the mines and built the workshops, endless miles of railroad laid
Now we stand outcast and starving 'mid the wonders we have made
But the union makes us strong 

All the world  that's owned by idle drones is ours and ours alone 
We have laid the wide foundations, built it skyward stone by stone 
It is ours, not to slave in, but to master and to own  
While the union makes us strong

They have taken untold millions that they never toiled to earn
But without our brain and muscle not a single wheel can turn
We can break their haughty power gain our freedom when we learn
That the Union makes us strong

 In our hands is placed a power greater than their hoarded gold
Greater than the might of armies magnified a thousandfold
We can bring to birth a new world from the ashes of the old
For the Union makes us strong

Stay strong Wisconsin!

Paying Attention To Your Gut Feelings

 
The Twilight Zone Introduction - Warning...Scary!

ESP (extrasensory perception)
ESP or extrasensory perception is perception occurring independently of sight, hearing, or other sensory processes.  From http://skepdic.com/esp.html

Okay, is everyone sufficiently scared and under my mind control? The introduction to The Twilight Zone scared the heck out of me when I was a youngster. I'm not sure why. I'm also not sure if the story I'm going to tell you was from that show. But, that's not important nor the point.

The story was of a young woman who was having recurring dreams of a plane that was going to crash into her while she was sleeping. In every dream the plane got closer and closer to her. She would wake up in the dream screaming. She realized that in her next dream the plane would crash. So, she didn't go home that night. She decided instead to stay in a motel far from her house.

That night she dreamed her dream and woke up only to see the real plane crashing into her room at the motel.

No fooling Mother Nature!

So, do I believe in ESP? I don't think so. But, I do believe if we pay attention to all our senses we can "feel" things in our gut. I have walked into stores and "sensed" there was something wrong. One store was almost completely empty of any stock and had no customers. A curtain over a door in the back opened slightly and a man looked out. I turned around and left. Too creepy for me.

Once my husband and I checked into a motel. He went in and I stayed in the car. While waiting I got the feeling "something" was wrong. When the Chief came back to the car, I told him to check us out. He laughed at first. But, I stood my ground...we were not going to stay there.

Okay, I'm can be a little goofy. I have suffered panic attacks during my lifetime. So, maybe in those two cases that is all it was. I wouldn't argue with you.

I also get "feelings" about people. They may look like everyday, normal, good people, but I sense something about them that isn't "right."

My best example of this phenomenon was when I was working at my last job. My boss was interviewing people for a top sales management position. I would greet the interviewees and speak with them for a few moments as they waited. After the interview, when they left, I would give my boss a thumbs up or down. He'd always laugh.

After one interview I gave a thumbs down, he said "Really? Why? I think I'm going to hire him." We talked about it. I said "There's something about him. He feels sneaky to me. Like what you see is NOT what you're going to get." He hired him anyway.

Turns out, this guy convinced the people reporting to him they'd be better off if my boss was fired. Because then he would be in charge and he'd "look after them." He fired those that didn't go along with his plan. While this was going on I saw that people were relating to me differently. I wasn't their friend anymore, they saw me as aligned with my boss.

One of the men he fired called me and told me about the "plan." He wanted me to warn my boss. I thought about it. And, I told him. His reaction was expected: "He's a disgruntled employee." No, I said, he's a good person. He wants to help you.

The process took about two months. It was so sad and could have been avoided. On his last day, my boss hugged me and said "I should have listened to you." 

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.

 

Hold Your Partner's Hand, Keep Your Name Tags On, And Follow Me

 
Crab Apples In Fall 2010            Photo by Sharon 

 

Validations. They come at the best times don't they?

I've worked most of my life. As a single mother for quite awhile, my life consisted of work and taking care of my daughter. At one point I worked my way up to a Department Manager in our local hospital. I supervised, hired, fired, did budgets, wrote proposals, became accredited in the field. I hated it. I did it very well for about 16 years. But, I hated it and the stress from that hate wore my health down.

After several layoffs at different places I wanted to retire early due to my health...and with the real opportunity of being able to do so, I did (thank you Chief).

My mom told me later she thought I would be unhappy when I retired, losing the validations I received through my job.

But, guess what? I found I could do other things that I never had the time for before. As a volunteer, I learned how to edit videos for broadcasting on our local community television station. It was the first time my "creative" side was demonstrated to the outside world. And I received many good validations for my effort.

My health deteriorated further the last year or so. The editing I loved to do, and did about 40 hours each week, ceased. I became somewhat limited in my physical abilities. Always loving the computer, I decided to try my hand at blogging about 11 months ago.

Recently my mom said to me "Sharon, I didn't know you could write!" Well, I didn't know either. I keep plugging away. Some readers and friends have told me I have a "gift." Sometimes I write about memories, sometimes about current events. Mostly, I write about looking out my window.

And, it's just amazing how much I see from my window. Everyday is like a field trip in my office chair. Right this very moment I am watching the Canadian Geese migrate from one window pane to another.

My hope is I can give a giggle or a warm snuggle to a reader... to someone who needs just that, just then. And ultimately, perhaps, the feeling that they are on a field trip, too.

Join me, take my hand. 

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.

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.

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.

Prissy: Lawzy, we got to have a doctor. I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' babies.

  Baby Robin on Fence

After losing my managerial position at the hospital, I finally found a place to work downtown. The Office Manager interviewed me. I liked her immediately. A kinship was formed. A few months after being hired I told her that I thought we had to be sisters separated at birth. She agreed. We laughed.

I'm caucasian and she is african-american. So what. We were both women of a certain age and working.  We had a wonderful time working with each other, her being my "boss" wasn't a problem for us. We laughed at the same things, remembered the same things. We could finish each other's sentences. It was one of my most delightful working experiences. No, it was one of my most delightful experiences, period. Someone could say something in front of us and we'd just look at each other and "knew." We were, however, professionals, so most of the time we wouldn't laugh, out loud.

Then I got laid off. This was the second time within a few years. And I know why (I was older. made more money than others and the zinger was I had been diagnosed with cancer a few months earlier.) I could have sued. I didn't. My family isn't of that nature.

It took me six months before I found another job. Which, by the way, turned into my favorite two years of working my whole life. While in training by my predecessor, who was perhaps 20 years old, I became so confused I could hardly stand it. She was talking a mile a minute, and my "old but wise" brain was having difficulty following her. I could take all the blame, but sadly her communication skills were nil, so it was like trying to translate what she was saying into something I could understand.

Any how, forgetting where I was, all of a sudden I said quite animatedly "Lawdy, Lawdy Miss Scarlet! I don't know nothing about birthing no babies!" Please note the title of this blog is the actual and correct quote, but oh well, close enough.

She stopped and looked at me as if I had lost my mind. Oh, dear, I thought. The pause was pregnant. The pause was pregnant for what seemed like 9 months. So, I said: Oh, I was quoting from a movie. Have you heard it before? She said: no. I said: You know, "Gone With The Wind?" She said: no.

Where or where was my sister separated at birth when I needed her most?

A day later we were having lunch with two other gals when I asked her: So, what was it that made him decide to hire me? She said: Well, he asked me who did I think should he hire, and I said I think the older woman was interesting. And he said: Oh, the one who wrote about the forest and trees!

So, that's how I got the job. From one description of my abilities that said; I am able to see the forest and the trees.

I asked her, do you know what the phrase "Can't see the forest for the trees" means? I'll let you guess what her answer was.

Any way, what brought the Gone With The Wind quote to mind is the excerpt of article below, which I found on Roger Ebert's twitter.

Beep-beep-m beep-beep, yeah
By Jim Emerson on June 2, 2010 9:27 PM

Over Memorial Day weekend I attended a high school graduation in Albuquerque. One of the graduating senior boys gave a speech using car parts as a metaphor for the components of a personality or identity. It was a clever speech he'd co-written with a friend, delivered with wry humor. Afterwards, the head of the school -- a man I'd estimate was in his 60s -- took the stage and thanked the student, quipping: "Baby, you can drive my car anytime."

Thud. Thunderous silence mixed with scattered, bewildered titters.

The next night at a graduation party, the kid who'd given the speech was standing around with a few friends and the uncomfortable subject came up.

"What was that?" he said. "'Baby, you can drive my car?!?'"

"It was creepy," said one of the girls.

I piped in: "It was creepy -- because it was totally inappropriate and made no sense. Unless he was trying to seduce you. He was just making a Beatles reference."

"Oh!" exclaimed a couple of students.

"I didn't even think of that," said the boy. "But still, it was creepy."

It was probably even creepier for those of us who did recognize what the old guy was lamely attempting to invoke. These kids were 16 and 17, so naturally I felt a little... old having to mention what I'd thought was obvious, if still undeniably awkward. Then again, one of them had earlier quoted Taylor Swift (sarcastically) and I didn't get that, either.