For Once in my Life

She had just addressed and stamped the letter, and it would be headed to Muncie the next day. The phone rang as she walked past. It was the mom of her best friend telling her that their friend Mona was in the hospital and might not make it. It didn't make sense. The letter she just finished was written to Mona...how could she be in the hospital fighting for her life?

Bonnie said that Mona had spinal meningitis. She had complained of illness, a headache, and pain in her neck, so she didn't go to class. Her roommates came home to find her unconcious. She was on a respirator and in a coma. The letter never got mailed.

38+ years later, Mona steered her motorized wheelchair down the aisle of a small chapel. The aisle was strewn with pink rose petals. Once she reached the groom, also in a wheelchair, a very scratchy and slow rendition of "For Once in my Life" came out of the sound system. The groom asked, "Is that you singing?". She said it wasn't, but then the familiar lyrics kicked in. She said, "Oh my God! It is!".

The tears had already begun for the three "girls" standing up for her. Then Mona joined them. She buried her face into the back of her little dog, who was poised on a pillow on Mona's lap. We all cried for the three minutes it took for the song to play.

The wedding ended in a few minutes. Then it was time for congratulations, hugs, and lots more tears.

Two of those four girls have lived fairly normal lives in the past 38 years. One girl was handicapped at age 18, and the other was a widow at age 19, left to raise a six-month-old baby boy. For one reason or another, those four girls hadn't seen each other in many, many years.

I wished I had kept that letter. I would've given it to the bride last Monday when we went to her wedding and stood up for her.

Why?

One teenage boy is in a hospital tonight getting radiation for a brain stem glioma in hopes of adding a little time to his short life. Another teenage boy is hell-bent on destroying his life when he has it all and just can't see it. God, please put peace in both boys' hearts. Help one boy sleep tonight and help the other one wake up before it's too late.

Men...

I heard the other day that our new contract with the new company might not start until March 1st. That would mean from February 17th when the old contract ends until the 1st, we'd all be off work--with NO pay. That would be fine with me. A few days off would be nice. But it would suck for those whose money runs tight.

I emailed my husband and told him the rumor, and that I might have a week or so off. He emailed back and said that if that happened maybe he might come home to a clean house, a hot meal, and a smiling face. I emailed back, "Does this mean I can hire a maid, a cook, and a prostitute?"

His buddy said that a good woman would be all three.

...men...

What Just Happened???

Today was my RDO--that's "Regular Day Off". I work nine hour days, Monday through Thursday, then one eight hour Friday and one Friday off. I was really enjoying my RDO--until my work buddy called me up to tell me "the contract was awarded". I knew our portion of this huge contract was up for a re-compete.

But my buddy told me that our company was no awarded the contract. Ironically, the company that my current company won this contract away from was awarded the IT contract. That means in mid-February I will no longer be employed by one company, but will hopefully be picked up by the new company.

Funny how all these hard-working (well, not ALL are hard-working) folks that manage to score perfect ratings from their customer for several years in a row are just kind of tossed up in the air. Where we'll land, who knows? I've got a feeling they'll take one look at the fat old woman and tell her to "hit the road". I think my days as a tech-writer were numbered anyway. The software I work with is going away in less than a year, thanks to a less-than-smart move on the Navy's part. That's ok. I'll expect the worse, and if it's anything better I'll be pleasantly surprised. Maybe not completely happy, but it's been a long time since I was completely happy anyway.

And at this point in my life, I really wouldn't mind staying at home. I'm tired of working and coming home to a messy house that I don't want to clean. At the end of a long work day, I just want to kick back and NOT HAVE to do anything. I've got my little dog to keep my company and lots of unfinished projects at home. And I wouldn't mind doing housework if I didn't have to work too.

If the "worst" does happen, come springtime I'm having a clothesline installed. I always loved to hang out my laundry. I can take up sewing again and I can even finish that quilt I started for my son ten years ago. I can pick up and just go stay with my granddaughters any time I want. They need and want me now--ten years from now they'll be teenagers and have much more important things to do than hang out with grandma.

I'll have lots of time to walk and get exercise. I can drive up north a couple of hours and hang with my old classmates. When I get caught up with my housework, I might even do some spring-cleaning at my son's house. I could never be bored staying at home--not at this stage in my life.

So any way this falls, I'll make the best of it. The worst part is leaving co-workers that I've grown fond of. I won't miss the boring work. I won't miss the politics. But I would miss some of the folks I've worked with for the past 3-1/2 years.

Things have a way of USUALLY working out for the best. And even if something bad comes from all of this, there's still something good to be gleaned out of it. I may just have to look for a while to find it...but I will.

What????

Two weeks ago last Thursday I made a last-minute unplanned trip to take care of a four-year-old with a stomach bug. My daughter could not get off work, and my son-in-law was in training. I had Friday off anyway, so I threw a day's worth of clothes and my meds into a sack. Rudy had already sensed the phone call from my daughter meant a road trip and he was driving me crazy with his constant jumping and barking. I went ahead and put the little guy into the car to keep him out from under my feet so I could finish getting ready to go.

By dark I was at my daughter's hugging two seemingly healthy granddaughters. The youngest had lost her breakfast that morning, ran a temp, but seemed her normal self. She even had some crackers and Sprite and kept it down. So the next morning, the three healthy ones went to work and to school, and Kaylee and I did a little housework. I decided to cook a nice supper later on, and since Kaylee seemed fine, we took off around 10:30 to do some shopping and grab something to eat for lunch.

Kaylee told me without even giving it any thought that she wanted to eat at McDonald's. When we got to the counter, she asked if she could tell the girl at the counter what she wanted. Sure, I said. She did a fine job telling the girl that she wanted chicken nuggets, apple dippers, and a chocolate milk. I ordered, picked up the tray, and we took a seat in a booth.

Kaylee was her usual talkative self. She asked question after question. And invariably I had trouble hearing what she was asking me. Probably after about the 20th time I asked, "What???" Kaylee looked at me and loud enough for half the restaurant to hear proclaimed, "YOU need a hearing aid!"

I had NO trouble hearing that remark. I also had no trouble later that night when she told me my neck was like a trampoline.

Another Bright Move on my Part

I must be at the point in life where I have no feelings in my legs due to poor circulation. How else could I have not known what I did until it was too late?

At lunch today, I had brought in a couple packages of Eckrich Grillers and some buns to have for lunch. Not all for me...but to share with the less fortunate. You know, the co-workers who were relying on the roach coach to bring them some food. Due to the snow, the roach coach didn't run today. But lucky them...I had 16 grillers and was cooking them for anyone that was hungry, didn't have a lunch with them, or didn't want to get out in the snow to run to Subway or the caf.

I microwaved both packages to bring them to room temperature to speed up the process a bit. Then I threw four at a time into the little sandwich maker I keep at work. I keep the sandwich maker on top of one of the lunchroom microwaves. Ever so often, I'd turn the grillers to get a nice even brown on all sides. As I stood near the microwave, I backed up a little so my coworkers could use the microwave.

Against the wall near the microwave is a five-gallon bottle of water with a pump/spigot attached to the top. The bottle sits on a chair, for lack of a table to put it on. The room temp water is used to make coffee. I knew it was there.

After a minute or two, I began to feel something slightly cool, but very wet on the back of my left foot. I turned around to find the entire back of the left leg of my heavy knit slacks completely drenched with water. I had backed up a little too far, opened up the spigot, and soaked myself. I mean, the floor behind me was even wet.

The room was full of people, and I was at the far end of the room. Besides, I was the chef for the multitude. So I made an announcement and turned around to show them my soaking wet leg. It was the laugh of the day.

It wasn't too comfortable sitting around all afternoon in wet pants, but they eventually got dry before I had to head home. And it still wasn't as bad as the time I sat down on a huge cup of iced tea, then had to go teach a Windows class with a soaking wet behind.

Good move, Helen

Just a Good Ol' Boy

About 37 years ago, I heard a knock on the door. Newly-married and not used to having anyone knock on the door of our home, I peeked through the glass to be on the safe side. On the porch stood a local policeman. I knew who he was, but just barely. I couldn't imagine why Joe was there.

With a big smile on his face, he held out a check. "Ma'am, would you sign this?" I looked closer at the check. It was the one I had written for my water bill, and apparently didn't bother signing. I signed the check, handed it back to him, and thanked Officer Gee.

I've talked to Joe a few times in the 37 years I've lived in Loogootee. I can't recall ever seeing him without that familiar smile. He had a way of putting a person at ease and making you feel like you've known him forever. After a few years on the police department, and serving as the chief of police, Joe ran for sheriff of Martin County--and won.

During his tenure as sheriff, Joe would bring the "chain gang" from the county jail to the post prom setups and teardowns. We loved it when they showed up. Without complaints, they did all of our heavy hauling and high-climbing for us. We always bragged on their efforts, and they always smiled back. You could tell it was a pleasure for them to get out of jail for a few hours and do something besides sitting in their cells.

My Aunt Margi used to cook for the county jail, and her good home cooking coupled with Sheriff Gee's gentle ways and smiling face, I imagined it to be real similar to Aunt Bea's cooking and Sheriff Taylor's jail in Mayberry.

Joe Gee died on December 23rd. His last wish was to come back home to die. I heard that he hadn't been home from the hospital very long when he passed away. But at least he made it back home and was in the loving arms of his family. I personally know how important that is. It's hard to imagine Loogootee without Joe Gee. He's been an integral part of this town and this county for many years. How's the saying go? "A pillar of the community"? Yep, that was Joe.

Everyone knew him, and apparently everyone thought the world of him. I stood in line two hours to pay my respects to Joe, his wife, and Joe's kids. It was worth the wait to see Joe once again in his sheriff's uniform. That was the way he'd want to be dressed for this occasion.

Thank you, Officer Gee, for the many years of community service...from driving unsigned checks around town to rehabilitating members of our community that needed a second chance. I'm sure Loogootee will look after your family just like you looked after us.

Rest in peace. We'll miss you.