My father worked for JI Case for a long time but eventually bought a corner bar with attached restaurant in Kenosha. My family, in those years before I was born, lived in Racine and his idea was to have a buddy of his run the bar business while he worked at Case. This would effectively be bringing in two incomes from my Dad alone. My mom worked at Western Publishing in Racine at that time so, if this plan had worked, my family would be raking in some dough, so to speak. There was, however, one large kink in the plan, which my Dad soon found out.
The buddy he had entrusted to run his business was indeed running it right into the ground. Profits were down, mostly due to his drinking them up and then giving away the products! My Dad had to let him go and brought his nephew in to help for a time. But that too wasn't a perfect solution so the day came when the whole family packed up and moved to the apartment above the bar in Kenosha. So it was that I was the only person in my family to be born in Kenosha.
The apartment we lived in was pretty big! There were four big bedrooms. My parents had the largest at the back. My sister and I shared the next largest right off the kitchen. Another sister was in one off the main living room and there was another off the "good" living room. The "good" living room was the one that had the best furniture in it and we were not allowed in there except when there was company or it was a holiday. God forbid we spill something on the good furniture. There would be hell to pay! The only bedroom that I can remember having a closet was my mom and dad's. The rest of us had movable racks to hang our clothes on. When we moved and I had a closet in my room I had a sort of phobia about it because I always felt like something was lurking in there!
There was one bathroom in this apartment. In it was a large bathtub and a toilet. No sink. Our medicine cabinet, mirror, tooth brushes and tooth paste were all kept at the kitchen sink. It was our only sink so that's where we did all of that and washed our hair! You learn to share and be patient when you share one bathroom with so many kids!
There was no central heating in this apartment. There was a heater in the kitchen and another one in the main living room. We would get up each morning, grab out clothes and get dressed by one of the heaters. It was normal for us. There was also no air conditioning. We sometimes would go sleep out in the back behind the bar if the summer heat was too much. But the truth is, I, for one, didn't know any better. I was a kid and completely oblivious to how other people lived. It wasn't until I was at a slumber party at a friend's house and there was a heat duct in her room that I realized other kids had heated bedrooms!
When I look back there are many things that other kids had that we did not but at the time it just didn't matter. The truth is it doesn't matter now either because my parents made sure we had everything we needed. Sure, I got my share of hand me downs but my mom would fix 'em up and make them seem new. They made sure we had fun as a family - taking short trips on their time off to the Racine Zoo, Paddock Lake or Zion to buy Oleo! Every year, my Dad would load up the car with enough baggage to sink the Titanic and then add however many kids were home at the time plus Mom and we'd head off on the road to spend a week or two with relatives in North Dakota or Iowa. We'd fight and complain and be car sick the entire way but none of us would ever have given up a minute of those trips.
My mom could stretch a grocery budget like a pro. We'd eat creamed peas on toast or tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwiches but we liked it because she always made it taste so good! On our road trips we never stopped for fast food. No! Our treats were hand packed - sandwiches, fruit, cookies and other goodies - lovingly wrapped in wax paper and kept in a shoe box in the front seat by Mom.
Every Easter we got new dresses, fancy shoes and hats. Every fall we got new school shoes, gym shoes and school supplies. Every summer, we were made to play outdoors and take responsibility for our actions. No, we didn't have a lot of money. My Dad's bar and restaurant was a popular place but not one that made him rich in monetary terms. He made hundreds of friends though. At his funeral, we were overwhelmed by the number of people who came to pay their respects. The funeral home had to open two more parlor rooms to accommodate them all. Most were past customers, some were folks my dad had quietly helped out without telling anyone - a loan here, a hand up there - but all came as friends.
So yes, were were poor, if you look at poverty in terms of money. We didn't have much. Still don't. But what we did have, and still do, is a family that cares deeply for each other, talks almost daily to each other, and cares just as deeply about other people. We know the value of what we have because we have had to do without.
Showing posts with label big whopping family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label big whopping family. Show all posts
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
The big box...
One Christmas, when my brother was in the Air Force and stationed in Thailand, an enormous wooden crate arrived at our house about ten days before Christmas. It was not unlike the enormous wooden crate that the Father in A Christmas Story gets when he wins his "major prize" leg lamp. My Mom, being a stickler for tradition, had my Dad put the box right under the Christmas tree. I begged and begged to open that box. I reasoned that it was probably Christmas presents and he certainly would have individually wrapped each one so even if we opened the wooden box we would still have the surprise of opening the wrapped gifts on Christmas Eve. My Mom was unmoved. She had no way of knowing if anything was wrapped in there and she wasn't taking any chances.
So that thing sat there for the next ten days like some kind of mysterious rune in the living room. And there was no peeking inside this thing either because it was neatly nailed shut. It was torture. I mean, what did he send all the way from the strange, unknown land of Thailand!? All I knew about Thailand was that it was once called Siam and the only reason I knew that is because my Mom and I watched Deborah Kerr and Yul Brenner in "The King and I" on television once. It all seemed very exotic and odd and to a 11 year old girl it was almost too much to bear!
Now Christmas Eve at my Mom's house is a very time tested tradition. Certain activities are meant to happen at certain times of the evening and that schedule was not to be changed. As we began gathering together and my siblings arrived from their homes my Mother would already have appetizers out on the upstairs living room table. There would be cheese, sausage and crackers, crab dip and liver paté, there would be Chex Mix - the Yuletide standard of snacks. There was also punch. The punch bowl would hold the alcoholic version and there would be a pitcher of non-alcohol for us kids. On every end table there would be red and green M&M's, ribbon candy and Christmas cookies. There would also be bowls of nuts with a nut cracker by each bowl. I don't remember anyone but my Dad ever eating those nuts! We would all get our appetizers and settle in somewhere in the living room while my Mom would be down in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the real meal. Before Vatican II (for the Catholics reading this) our meal would never be eaten before Midnight Mass. It would consist of an egg dish, some kind of potatoes, kielbasa and kishka. After Vatican II, we would eat before Mass. The Christmas of the big box was after Vatican II. After we had just about eaten all the appetizers up, my Mom would finally emerge from the kitchen and tell us dinner was ready. Again, traditionalists as we were and still are, the meal was the same as in the early days - eggs, potatoes, kielbasa and kishka. We added Italian sausage soon after and with the addition of home made cinnamon rolls this meal has been unchanged for my entire life. We ate and ate until we could eat no more. Then the big fun started.
We would all find a comfy spot and the Christmas song books would be handed out. We would start at the beginning of that book and sing all of the carols right to the end. The only verse we ever skipped was the "nails, spear, shall pierce him through" verse of What Child Is This. My Mom couldn't stand to sing that verse on the even of celebrating Jesus' birth because it was all about his horrible death. So we skipped it, and happily so, because what we really wanted to get to was the opening of the presents. FINALLY - it was time. For most of my childhood, I played "Santa" which meant I had to crawl around under the tree and hand out gifts. This was no small feat for a family of our size and, honestly, it made me exhausted! There was a trick to handing out the gifts. I had to be sure to give one gift out to each person so everyone had a gift to open at the same time. It was rude to have someone sitting there waiting for a gift while someone else in the room was opening two or three! My own gifts I would pile up out of the way and open them all at once when I was finished. I doled out the family gifts and was hoping that my Dad would now open the wooden box but my Mom had other ideas. You see, she was a second grade teacher and she would bring home a truck load of gifts from her students so before we could do anything else she decided to open each and every one of those gifts. IT TOOK FOREVER!!! She held them up for all to see and we, appropriately, oohed and ahhed over every scarf, box of candy and bottle of smelly bubble bath she received.
At last, it was time! My Dad got his hammer and opened the top of the wooden box. In it was a ton of excelsior - that stringy stuff used to cushion long distance packages. He dug through and, sure enough, there was a bevy of beautifully wrapped gifts - one for each of us! Except for me - he sent me THREE!! My parents got a set of intricately carved royal figurines and a tusk that sat behind them. This was in the days when ivory was still legal and I liked to believe it was real but it was soapstone. I opened my first box and there was a set of water colors and paint brushes in it! The second box had two canvases and a real easel! I was so excited I couldn't wait to open the third box! I eagerly tore off the Thai Christmas paper and opened the top of the box. I could see there was some kind of a statue in there but realized it was a bank! There was a slot on the top of it's head. I carefully pulled it up and out of the box and what did I see?
It was a large, pot bellied squirrel wearing a hat and it had enormous boobs and a penis!! I'm not kidding!! This is what my brother sent his 11 year old sister!! I just about died when I saw this thing. My parents laughed so hard they got tears in their eyes. Everyone passed this thing around in disbelief! What the heck could he have been thinking??
As it happens, he wasn't thinking at all. He came home a few months later on leave and I asked him why he had given me that strange thing. He said, innocently, "It's a bank!" Well, yes, it was. I went and got it from my room and showed him and he just about fell off the chair. He never even realized it had boobs and a penis! He just thought it was a cute bank that I would like! That's my brother...never really paying full attention to anything!
I kept that crazy thing for the longest time. It was just too weird to get rid of. I think it finally broke one day when my Mom was cleaning out my closet but it was quite the conversation piece, I tell ya!
When I think back on my Christmas memories, they all have some element of wonder and awe and the year of the huge wooden box sure had it. The anticipation of Christmas is a lot for a kid to manage so having a mysterious box arrive just put it right over the edge.
So that thing sat there for the next ten days like some kind of mysterious rune in the living room. And there was no peeking inside this thing either because it was neatly nailed shut. It was torture. I mean, what did he send all the way from the strange, unknown land of Thailand!? All I knew about Thailand was that it was once called Siam and the only reason I knew that is because my Mom and I watched Deborah Kerr and Yul Brenner in "The King and I" on television once. It all seemed very exotic and odd and to a 11 year old girl it was almost too much to bear!
Now Christmas Eve at my Mom's house is a very time tested tradition. Certain activities are meant to happen at certain times of the evening and that schedule was not to be changed. As we began gathering together and my siblings arrived from their homes my Mother would already have appetizers out on the upstairs living room table. There would be cheese, sausage and crackers, crab dip and liver paté, there would be Chex Mix - the Yuletide standard of snacks. There was also punch. The punch bowl would hold the alcoholic version and there would be a pitcher of non-alcohol for us kids. On every end table there would be red and green M&M's, ribbon candy and Christmas cookies. There would also be bowls of nuts with a nut cracker by each bowl. I don't remember anyone but my Dad ever eating those nuts! We would all get our appetizers and settle in somewhere in the living room while my Mom would be down in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the real meal. Before Vatican II (for the Catholics reading this) our meal would never be eaten before Midnight Mass. It would consist of an egg dish, some kind of potatoes, kielbasa and kishka. After Vatican II, we would eat before Mass. The Christmas of the big box was after Vatican II. After we had just about eaten all the appetizers up, my Mom would finally emerge from the kitchen and tell us dinner was ready. Again, traditionalists as we were and still are, the meal was the same as in the early days - eggs, potatoes, kielbasa and kishka. We added Italian sausage soon after and with the addition of home made cinnamon rolls this meal has been unchanged for my entire life. We ate and ate until we could eat no more. Then the big fun started.
We would all find a comfy spot and the Christmas song books would be handed out. We would start at the beginning of that book and sing all of the carols right to the end. The only verse we ever skipped was the "nails, spear, shall pierce him through" verse of What Child Is This. My Mom couldn't stand to sing that verse on the even of celebrating Jesus' birth because it was all about his horrible death. So we skipped it, and happily so, because what we really wanted to get to was the opening of the presents. FINALLY - it was time. For most of my childhood, I played "Santa" which meant I had to crawl around under the tree and hand out gifts. This was no small feat for a family of our size and, honestly, it made me exhausted! There was a trick to handing out the gifts. I had to be sure to give one gift out to each person so everyone had a gift to open at the same time. It was rude to have someone sitting there waiting for a gift while someone else in the room was opening two or three! My own gifts I would pile up out of the way and open them all at once when I was finished. I doled out the family gifts and was hoping that my Dad would now open the wooden box but my Mom had other ideas. You see, she was a second grade teacher and she would bring home a truck load of gifts from her students so before we could do anything else she decided to open each and every one of those gifts. IT TOOK FOREVER!!! She held them up for all to see and we, appropriately, oohed and ahhed over every scarf, box of candy and bottle of smelly bubble bath she received.
At last, it was time! My Dad got his hammer and opened the top of the wooden box. In it was a ton of excelsior - that stringy stuff used to cushion long distance packages. He dug through and, sure enough, there was a bevy of beautifully wrapped gifts - one for each of us! Except for me - he sent me THREE!! My parents got a set of intricately carved royal figurines and a tusk that sat behind them. This was in the days when ivory was still legal and I liked to believe it was real but it was soapstone. I opened my first box and there was a set of water colors and paint brushes in it! The second box had two canvases and a real easel! I was so excited I couldn't wait to open the third box! I eagerly tore off the Thai Christmas paper and opened the top of the box. I could see there was some kind of a statue in there but realized it was a bank! There was a slot on the top of it's head. I carefully pulled it up and out of the box and what did I see?
It was a large, pot bellied squirrel wearing a hat and it had enormous boobs and a penis!! I'm not kidding!! This is what my brother sent his 11 year old sister!! I just about died when I saw this thing. My parents laughed so hard they got tears in their eyes. Everyone passed this thing around in disbelief! What the heck could he have been thinking??
As it happens, he wasn't thinking at all. He came home a few months later on leave and I asked him why he had given me that strange thing. He said, innocently, "It's a bank!" Well, yes, it was. I went and got it from my room and showed him and he just about fell off the chair. He never even realized it had boobs and a penis! He just thought it was a cute bank that I would like! That's my brother...never really paying full attention to anything!
I kept that crazy thing for the longest time. It was just too weird to get rid of. I think it finally broke one day when my Mom was cleaning out my closet but it was quite the conversation piece, I tell ya!
When I think back on my Christmas memories, they all have some element of wonder and awe and the year of the huge wooden box sure had it. The anticipation of Christmas is a lot for a kid to manage so having a mysterious box arrive just put it right over the edge.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
My holiday weekend and wasn't much of a holiday...
As much as I love Christmas, this Christmas was one I would have rather have missed altogether. On Christmas Eve, my mom had a stroke. She was found on the floor of her bathroom by my sister and rushed to the ER. Luckily, she was found in the necessary three hour window that made it possible to start the TPA treatment. This treatment is crucial to seeing improvement in stroke patients. However, given her advanced age, we were told that there was also a 50/50 chance this treatment could make her bleed internally and that, if she did, it would be fatal. Knowing that, we let them start treatment. Also knowing my mom would never want to live in the condition she was in on that day. She was then taken to Froedtert Hospital where she spent two night in the ICU.
I spent the rest of the weekend going up to Froedtert and each time there were noticeable improvements. Small improvements but improvements none the less. She cannot use her right side. She can lift her right arm but cannot direct it to do anything but the day before she wasn't even able to lift it. She can speak but it's not really what she wants to say. Words come out and she gets frustrated because she cannot express herself. Still, she can speak! She cannot swallow. She failed two swallow studies so they are going to insert a G-tube so they can feed her. And she will have a stent put in her neck to relieve the blockage that caused the clot which caused the stroke.
Her color is good and she does understand what happened and knows where she is. So, we'll take this one day at a time. Our hopes are that once she is released she will go to Brookside here in Kenosha for some rehab and then, hopefully, back to my sister's house where she will be more comfortable.
All in all, this Christmas was stressful and sad and never ending. But, we're all here. And we're all alive. And each day brings something else to feel hopeful about. That being said, I know that I have the best family in the world and the most caring friends. And I know I have the strongest mom in the world so even at 93 years old and struggling to get through this her faith and inner strength will take her far.
I spent the rest of the weekend going up to Froedtert and each time there were noticeable improvements. Small improvements but improvements none the less. She cannot use her right side. She can lift her right arm but cannot direct it to do anything but the day before she wasn't even able to lift it. She can speak but it's not really what she wants to say. Words come out and she gets frustrated because she cannot express herself. Still, she can speak! She cannot swallow. She failed two swallow studies so they are going to insert a G-tube so they can feed her. And she will have a stent put in her neck to relieve the blockage that caused the clot which caused the stroke.
Her color is good and she does understand what happened and knows where she is. So, we'll take this one day at a time. Our hopes are that once she is released she will go to Brookside here in Kenosha for some rehab and then, hopefully, back to my sister's house where she will be more comfortable.
All in all, this Christmas was stressful and sad and never ending. But, we're all here. And we're all alive. And each day brings something else to feel hopeful about. That being said, I know that I have the best family in the world and the most caring friends. And I know I have the strongest mom in the world so even at 93 years old and struggling to get through this her faith and inner strength will take her far.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
The times they are a-changin...
Today is Thanksgiving Day here in the US and that means I'll be with family, eating too much turkey and just having a good time in general. It's the usual way. Tradition.
Having said that, it has also been abundantly clear that my family traditions are changing forever this year. You see, my family has always thrived at this time of year. Beginning with Thanksgiving, these winter holidays - Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Years - have always been our greatest time of celebration. The highlight being our annual Christmas Eve get together at my mother's house. We would have traditional Polish food - kishka, kielbasa and the like - and we'd sing Christmas Carols and give each other gifts. Everyone would be there - all of the nieces, nephews, spouses and sometimes a stray friend or two. We'd cram ourselves into my mom's living room and it would be the best time of the year.
This year, my mother is not living at her house due to her age so we're not having it. She's living with my sister now and my sister always hosts an enormous Christmas Day dinner so to ask her to host Christmas Eve as well would be a little much. So this year, no get together, no carolling, no large crowd of family. In all of the changes that have happened this year, this, to me, is the most significant sign that our lives are and will be forever changed when my mother is gone.
I, for one, plan to cherish this Christmas. I know it may be my mother's last and I wish there was a way that I could give her the one last Christmas in her own home but I cannot. So I will hold on to what I do have - my mom at 93, my family - so close it's almost unnatural, my memories, and my dear husband, with whom I know we will make our own new traditions.
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!
Having said that, it has also been abundantly clear that my family traditions are changing forever this year. You see, my family has always thrived at this time of year. Beginning with Thanksgiving, these winter holidays - Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Years - have always been our greatest time of celebration. The highlight being our annual Christmas Eve get together at my mother's house. We would have traditional Polish food - kishka, kielbasa and the like - and we'd sing Christmas Carols and give each other gifts. Everyone would be there - all of the nieces, nephews, spouses and sometimes a stray friend or two. We'd cram ourselves into my mom's living room and it would be the best time of the year.
This year, my mother is not living at her house due to her age so we're not having it. She's living with my sister now and my sister always hosts an enormous Christmas Day dinner so to ask her to host Christmas Eve as well would be a little much. So this year, no get together, no carolling, no large crowd of family. In all of the changes that have happened this year, this, to me, is the most significant sign that our lives are and will be forever changed when my mother is gone.
I, for one, plan to cherish this Christmas. I know it may be my mother's last and I wish there was a way that I could give her the one last Christmas in her own home but I cannot. So I will hold on to what I do have - my mom at 93, my family - so close it's almost unnatural, my memories, and my dear husband, with whom I know we will make our own new traditions.
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Incredible Shrinking Women!
This week, my Auntie Mayme and Cousin Mickey are here for a short visit from their homes in North Dakota. Auntie Mayme is my mom's sister. She's the second oldest, my mom being the oldest. Now, over the years, and especially this past year I have noticed that my mom has grown increasingly shorter. She used to be about 5'9" for most of her life. At 92 she is about 5'2" right now.
Last night I went to my sister's house for dinner to see my Auntie and Cousin. When my Auntie stepped out of her room I noticed that she too is about 5'2" right now! The funny part was that they had just come back from seeing their other sister in the Chicago area earlier that day. When I asked how that visit was and how sister was they said, with some surprise, "She got SO SHORT!" Hahaha!! It must be a famiy trait. I can only imagine that at some point in my life my now 5'11" frame will shrink down to about 5'2"!
Another very telling thing happened last night as well. You see, my mom has always been the kind of mom that would tell us to do something - say, set the table or make a salad, whatever - and then she would stand there and "supervise" us letting us know we were "doing it wrong". "Doing it wrong" meant that we were doing it in a way that she would never do it whether our way was equally effective or not. Last night my Cousing Mickey was told by my Auntie to cut up some onions for a dish she was making. Then she proceeded to stand there "supervising" her telling her she was cutting them "wrong" and not "cutting enough onions". It was comical to see that even now at our age these women do this. No matter how old we, the children get, mom's will always "know best" even if we are completely capable of doing whatever it is they are asking us to do. It was also funny to see this dynamic happening to my Cousin because that was a sure sign that this "supervising" thing was something my Grandma must have done to them all their lives too.
So it goes....mothers and daughters...tall and short and telling each other what to do.
Last night I went to my sister's house for dinner to see my Auntie and Cousin. When my Auntie stepped out of her room I noticed that she too is about 5'2" right now! The funny part was that they had just come back from seeing their other sister in the Chicago area earlier that day. When I asked how that visit was and how sister was they said, with some surprise, "She got SO SHORT!" Hahaha!! It must be a famiy trait. I can only imagine that at some point in my life my now 5'11" frame will shrink down to about 5'2"!
Another very telling thing happened last night as well. You see, my mom has always been the kind of mom that would tell us to do something - say, set the table or make a salad, whatever - and then she would stand there and "supervise" us letting us know we were "doing it wrong". "Doing it wrong" meant that we were doing it in a way that she would never do it whether our way was equally effective or not. Last night my Cousing Mickey was told by my Auntie to cut up some onions for a dish she was making. Then she proceeded to stand there "supervising" her telling her she was cutting them "wrong" and not "cutting enough onions". It was comical to see that even now at our age these women do this. No matter how old we, the children get, mom's will always "know best" even if we are completely capable of doing whatever it is they are asking us to do. It was also funny to see this dynamic happening to my Cousin because that was a sure sign that this "supervising" thing was something my Grandma must have done to them all their lives too.
So it goes....mothers and daughters...tall and short and telling each other what to do.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Summer's last blast...
This was a holiday weekend here so yesterday my crazy family got together for one last summer blast. We gathered at my sister's house with a bevvy of goodies to cook over an open flame and, as is the case with my crazy family, we just had to have some kind of strange entertainment going on.
This time my sister came up with the idea that we would have our very own version of "Dancing with the Stars". She downloaded music from that show and burned it to CDs. We each got one, chosen randomly, with a genre of dance attached to it. The thing is, she didn't get around to giving us the music until very late the night before we were expected to dance so many people opted not to do it. I was one of those people. But after three Long Island ice teas and a couple of Apple Martinis, the rhythm took over and I threw together a routine with my niece Jennifer. Our genre was the cha-cha and the song we got was "The Love Shack" by the B-52s. But, since we really didn't have a clue how to do the cha-cha we, instead, improvised a routine that was an homage to those who had danced before us. We started by ungracefully mimicking my oldest sister's free style jazz routine she did earlier. Then we went seamlessly into a hopeless salsa that aped my other sister's routine. We realized we needed some personal flare so we three in the "shopping at Walmart" portion that went right into a glorious booty shake. We ended the routine by dredging up the "boogaloo" as we made our way off stage (the deck).
We brought the house/yard down! Needless to say, we won the contest and got a standing O. Hahaha! They even asked for an encore of the booty shake which we graciously did again and again until they begged for mercy. We ended up relaxing around the fire and making S'mores.
My family is so crazy. We do stuff like this all the time and everyone gets involved. It's fun and it was a great way to blow off the stress of the week and enjoy the last blast of summer.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Love in a time of chaos...
So life has given me and my family some big friggan' lemons lately. We're dealing with it. My sister's news about her cancer just gets worse with each test. She has Stage 4 and that's not good at all. Not that any stage of cancer is good but stage 4 is particularly bad. I've banned myself from Googling it for more information because all the information I've Googled thus far has just made it worse. But we'll get through this no matter the outcome. It will be a journey for sure and one that will have some real lows but we'll get by.
Through all of this Alex has been my rock. There's not much he can say, of course, to make me feel any better or calmer but his listening speaks volumes. Yes, it would be easier if he was here with me now but that can't be so this is what we have. And for now, it's enough. I can always count on him when I am racing and my mind is taking me to dark places to just listen and be calm and get it out of my system and eventually make me laugh. That's what love is. All these miles between us and we are closer than ever. We wrote a song together called "Closer" a couple of years ago and I don't think I really knew what it meant until just now.
Somehow, in light of the big picture, the work picture seems all so trivial now. All that stress and nonsense I was going through and still am going through at work just doesn't seem to have the same bite it did before. When it does get tedious at work I find myself sort of looking on as if I'm watching it in a movie and thinking "Wow...this is surreal!" and it goes away. Maybe that's a life lesson for me. There are way more important things to worry about then a job. A job is a necessity for sure but it's not a life and, at the end of the day, it is something you CAN move on from if you have to.
Just a side note...I've always known animals have a way of sensing when you're down but my cats have shown themselves to be seriously psychic or something. The other day I was sitting on the couch having a "moment" and both of them got on my lap at once which they never do. They laid there looking up at me and, occasionally, Brig would reach up a fuzzy paw to pat me consolingly on the cheek. They had very concerned looks on their little fur faces. I just had to laugh!
Through all of this Alex has been my rock. There's not much he can say, of course, to make me feel any better or calmer but his listening speaks volumes. Yes, it would be easier if he was here with me now but that can't be so this is what we have. And for now, it's enough. I can always count on him when I am racing and my mind is taking me to dark places to just listen and be calm and get it out of my system and eventually make me laugh. That's what love is. All these miles between us and we are closer than ever. We wrote a song together called "Closer" a couple of years ago and I don't think I really knew what it meant until just now.
Somehow, in light of the big picture, the work picture seems all so trivial now. All that stress and nonsense I was going through and still am going through at work just doesn't seem to have the same bite it did before. When it does get tedious at work I find myself sort of looking on as if I'm watching it in a movie and thinking "Wow...this is surreal!" and it goes away. Maybe that's a life lesson for me. There are way more important things to worry about then a job. A job is a necessity for sure but it's not a life and, at the end of the day, it is something you CAN move on from if you have to.
Just a side note...I've always known animals have a way of sensing when you're down but my cats have shown themselves to be seriously psychic or something. The other day I was sitting on the couch having a "moment" and both of them got on my lap at once which they never do. They laid there looking up at me and, occasionally, Brig would reach up a fuzzy paw to pat me consolingly on the cheek. They had very concerned looks on their little fur faces. I just had to laugh!
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Gettng back to what's important...
Not that my job isn't important. I mean I do appreciate that it pays the bills but I know that for the past several weeks it has been consuming me. We're still in audit mode at work and for the next two weeks stress level with be at Defcon 4 but I realize that part of the art of leveling that off is to not take for granted what really matters. What really mattes are almost always not job related things.
Last night, I was at dinner at my sister Patsy's house. Virtually all of my siblings have had some health crisis or other going on in the last few months. Lately, all of their conversations are about what medications their taking and in what doses and what they are all for and their latest visit to the docs and what they said. Since I'm healthy and can't really contribute to that line of talk I just sat back, observed and listened. I was watching this whole thing - how animated they became when talking, seeing their body language - and realized this was just another form of something we all have done all our lives. It was "one upsmanship". Haha! My brother would say something like "I have to take Coumidin three times each day until my next set of tests" and one of my sister's would say "Well, I have to take it four times a day for the rest of my life" and another one would chime in with "Well, I have to take that PLUS blood pressure meds". It was so comical I started to laugh. My mother, who is 90 years old and on some meds of her own, just sat there quietly eating her dinner and then after a time finally said "Will you all shut up? When you get old this is what you get. Get over it!" I almost did a spit take with my linguine!
I realized though as I was watching and listening to all of them how much I love them all. They are truly 5 unique personalities. Verda aka Kelly, the oldest, is crotchety and grumpy and puts on airs but she is also fun and surprises me sometimes with her spontaneity. Bryant aka Butch is a character. He is super shy but once you know him he will crack you up! He was a world of unusual characters living in his head and he lets them out once in a while and practically makes me pee my pants laughing. Kathleen aka Kathy, third oldest, just had surgery to repair her heart, showed up to dinner in her pajama's and slippers, proudly showed off her huge scar and staples. She talks to herself all the time - keeping a running commentary under everything else that's going on. But she's also a dedicated and highly competent nurse. She will let you know that by sparkling her sentences with medical terms! Therese aka Terry, is the former bad girl who now has the heart of an angel. She'll give you the shirt off her back and always be there to listen when you need to talk. Her quirk is that since she's a hair stylist she often gets her "facts" on some current event from a "friend of one of the ladies" who's hair she does on a weekly basis. And she'll argue those facts to the death! Patrice aka Patsy, is seven years older than me. We had a rocky start to our relationship. She was the baby of the family for seven years and then, well, cute little me came along and rocked her world! Haha! Patsy has dedicated her life to being Kenosha's version of Martha Stewart. Her home is meticulous. Her food, although sometimes strange, comes right out of the pages of Gourmet Today. She is the embodiment of the word conservative but get a couple of glasses of wine in her and she is a hoot!
These are some of the people that are important to me. My family. And then there's my personal family that stretches beyond what I was given at birth.
There's Alexander aka Alex, who's thoughtful, caring, funny, smart, analytical, talented, loving, sexy and always there for me. I love him. Period. He's the most important person in my family.
There's Jessica aka Jessy, Alex's sister and all of her family. They have accepted me wholeheartedly and always make me feel welcomed.
There's Jan aka Alex's father and his mother Gunilla, and Cici, Jesper, Sarah, Jonas and all of his other siblings. Some of them I haven't met yet (Klas)but the ones I have have also accepted me. I can't wait to get to know them better.
These people, this time, this is what is important. This is what I hold dear and always will. I'm going to a wedding today and, honestly, yesterday I was thinking of ways to get out of it. But today, I'm going. I'm going to celebrate, let loose and have fun. Because at the end of day, that is what's important. I can't let myself forget that!
Last night, I was at dinner at my sister Patsy's house. Virtually all of my siblings have had some health crisis or other going on in the last few months. Lately, all of their conversations are about what medications their taking and in what doses and what they are all for and their latest visit to the docs and what they said. Since I'm healthy and can't really contribute to that line of talk I just sat back, observed and listened. I was watching this whole thing - how animated they became when talking, seeing their body language - and realized this was just another form of something we all have done all our lives. It was "one upsmanship". Haha! My brother would say something like "I have to take Coumidin three times each day until my next set of tests" and one of my sister's would say "Well, I have to take it four times a day for the rest of my life" and another one would chime in with "Well, I have to take that PLUS blood pressure meds". It was so comical I started to laugh. My mother, who is 90 years old and on some meds of her own, just sat there quietly eating her dinner and then after a time finally said "Will you all shut up? When you get old this is what you get. Get over it!" I almost did a spit take with my linguine!
I realized though as I was watching and listening to all of them how much I love them all. They are truly 5 unique personalities. Verda aka Kelly, the oldest, is crotchety and grumpy and puts on airs but she is also fun and surprises me sometimes with her spontaneity. Bryant aka Butch is a character. He is super shy but once you know him he will crack you up! He was a world of unusual characters living in his head and he lets them out once in a while and practically makes me pee my pants laughing. Kathleen aka Kathy, third oldest, just had surgery to repair her heart, showed up to dinner in her pajama's and slippers, proudly showed off her huge scar and staples. She talks to herself all the time - keeping a running commentary under everything else that's going on. But she's also a dedicated and highly competent nurse. She will let you know that by sparkling her sentences with medical terms! Therese aka Terry, is the former bad girl who now has the heart of an angel. She'll give you the shirt off her back and always be there to listen when you need to talk. Her quirk is that since she's a hair stylist she often gets her "facts" on some current event from a "friend of one of the ladies" who's hair she does on a weekly basis. And she'll argue those facts to the death! Patrice aka Patsy, is seven years older than me. We had a rocky start to our relationship. She was the baby of the family for seven years and then, well, cute little me came along and rocked her world! Haha! Patsy has dedicated her life to being Kenosha's version of Martha Stewart. Her home is meticulous. Her food, although sometimes strange, comes right out of the pages of Gourmet Today. She is the embodiment of the word conservative but get a couple of glasses of wine in her and she is a hoot!
These are some of the people that are important to me. My family. And then there's my personal family that stretches beyond what I was given at birth.
There's Alexander aka Alex, who's thoughtful, caring, funny, smart, analytical, talented, loving, sexy and always there for me. I love him. Period. He's the most important person in my family.
There's Jessica aka Jessy, Alex's sister and all of her family. They have accepted me wholeheartedly and always make me feel welcomed.
There's Jan aka Alex's father and his mother Gunilla, and Cici, Jesper, Sarah, Jonas and all of his other siblings. Some of them I haven't met yet (Klas)but the ones I have have also accepted me. I can't wait to get to know them better.
These people, this time, this is what is important. This is what I hold dear and always will. I'm going to a wedding today and, honestly, yesterday I was thinking of ways to get out of it. But today, I'm going. I'm going to celebrate, let loose and have fun. Because at the end of day, that is what's important. I can't let myself forget that!
Monday, September 22, 2008
At last...
As you few faithful readers know, my sibs have been going through some health issues lately. My brother appears to be out of the woods, so that's good. My sister, the one who ended up hospitalized, is having surgery this Friday to repair her leaky valves in her heart. My other sister, the one who hasn't seen a doc in forever and who was having a hard time walking, has FINALLY gone to see a doc. They're sending her for a full work up of lab tests and they've already determined she has high blood pressure and put her on some medication. I can't even tell you how happy this makes me. Not happy that she's not 100% but happy that she finally got around to addressing these issues. She wasn't looking good and, frankly, I was afraid she was just going to not wake up one of these days.
On a brighter note, one of my nieces had a baby! After 19 hours of labor (OUCH!!) Shawn Joshua Trepczyk was born. Weighing in at 6 lbs, 13 ounces. He was smaller than we thought he'd be because he just wasn't ready to pop out when they said he would. Mommy and baby are doing fine. Big sister, Desiree, is beside herself and Daddy is proud as a peacock. The full count for me is this: nieces and nephews = 12, great nieces and nephews = 11! I can barely keep track anymore!
On a brighter note, one of my nieces had a baby! After 19 hours of labor (OUCH!!) Shawn Joshua Trepczyk was born. Weighing in at 6 lbs, 13 ounces. He was smaller than we thought he'd be because he just wasn't ready to pop out when they said he would. Mommy and baby are doing fine. Big sister, Desiree, is beside herself and Daddy is proud as a peacock. The full count for me is this: nieces and nephews = 12, great nieces and nephews = 11! I can barely keep track anymore!
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