I lived in New York during the attacks of September 11th, 2001.
At that time, I was still in the broadcasting business and living in a cool beach town out on Long Island. I was single and living the New York lifestyle.
As with many New Yorkers and folks around the country - my life changed dramatically after the attacks. Below are the e-mails I shared with friends and family - recounting my memories.
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From: “ellen N”
To: Mailing List
Sent: Thursday, September 13, 2001, 1:15 PM
Subject: Thanks again
Thanks again to so many of you who’ve called and e-mailed me here in New York. Please know that I appreciate your efforts and your thoughts and prayers.
As Wednesday unfolded for me in New York, the devastation began to sink in. I was finally able to speak to a dear friend of mine who works on the Trading Floor. He worked directly across the street from the massive destruction and my heart broke for him as he recounted some grisly facts to me.
He told me how he was on the ground, looking upward as the second plane struck the second tower. He recounted how he witnessed men and women falling from both Towers; a visualization I can barely fathom, yet he saw with his own eyes.
Another dear friend of mind who works for Chase Manhattan was still shaking today as she told me of how she evacuated the Chase Plaza from the 23rd floor and the fear she felt as she descended the stairs…not knowing what to expect when she reached the ground level. She was one of the thousands who escaped New York on foot over one of the bridges.
I realize this travesty affects all of us, but I ask you to please keep the folks of New York in your prayers at this time. It has touched virtually every citizen of this state in some way or another.
I suggest flying the American Flag in a united show of support. It would mean a lot to so many people.
Thanks again from the bottom of my heart to all of you who’ve kept me in your thoughts and prayers.
We all need to continue to pray for the real victims and the Emergency crews and everyone who has been personally touched by this tragedy.
Ellen
___________________________________
Fm: Ellen N
To: Mailing List
Sent: September 03, 2003, 7:46 AM
Subject: Two Years Ago…
Two years ago today, at this very moment, I was standing outside my apartment on Long Island inNew York and seeing the billowing ball of white smoke that was feverishly taking over the crystal blue skyline of New York City.
I’d been awoken that morning by a phone call from my mother. From her kitchen in Wisconsin, shewas actually the first to alert me of the drama that was playing out a mere 20 miles from my apartment in New York. After speaking with her and realizing the enormity of what I was experiencing, hundreds of things were absorbed into my brain in a split second….
Was I going to be okay? Were my friends and family around the country going to be okay? What was
REALLY happening? On and on and on and on…..I remember calling friends and family in an effort to do a check-list of all those I knew who could be potentially affected.
I remember speaking with my friend Sonya who works for American Express. Their headquarters were at Ground Zero; however she was working from home that day. I remember speaking with her husband Chun, who worked on the Trading Floor. He described the dreadful scene of how he witnessed bodies falling from the sky.
I remember holding the hand of my friend Katie who had been trapped on the 23rd floor of the Chase Manhattan building, as she told me about how she’d been paralyzed with fear at the thought of never seeing her two children again.
I remember being with Holly as her rookie-cop husband came home from having spent nearly 72 hours straight in the recovery effort. He spoke of the smells, the sights and the sounds……
I remember going into Manhattan exactly one week after the attacks and seeing first-hand the devastation and the horror that was still so fresh. I personally saw young and exhausted fire fighters and police personnel who were sleeping in cars trying to get some more energy to continue the search.
I remember walking down the street of lower Manhattan and being able to clearly hear the conversation of the couple walking on the other side of the street…because it was still so quiet.
I remember hearing the stories from my friend Pete who had been in Europe on business and whose plane had been diverted to Nova Scotia where he spent four days in a gymnasium until they were given clearance to return to New York.
I remember speaking to Cathy who was trapped in an airport in California, not knowing if that City would also be a target.
I remember September 11th, 2001 like it was yesterday.
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Ten Years Later....
I'm now beginning my tenth year in the Senior Living Industry, specializing in Alzheimer's & Dementia. I live in South Carolina with the most amazing Southern Gentleman who became my husband three years ago.
I lost a brother suddenly this year when he died of a massive heart attack while running in a 5K race.
In July, I attended my 20 year college reunion.
Sadly, I've lost touch with several of the New Yorkers, mentioned in the previous updates. However, I still stay connected to New York through my pals there in the broadcasting industry.
My life in 2011 doesn't come close to resembling my life in 2001. If it's possible, I'm actually stronger, more convicted and more filled with faith for God and Country. I continue to be professionally driven however, my wonderful husband creates a stable balance for me between work and family. He's a rock, I never would've imagined in 2001.
September 11th, 2001 changed the world forever. And, it impacted my life - in ways I'm still discovering. However, no matter how far that date fades into the rearview mirror........
I will always Remember.
20 years????
August 2011
The Gent & I traveled to Milwaukee, the last week of July. We made the trip, to my hometown to celebrate my 20 year college reunion!!! 20 years? Crap, I'm old!
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| A cheeshead at heart! |
August 2011
The Gent & I traveled to Milwaukee, the last week of July. We made the trip, to my hometown to celebrate my 20 year college reunion!!! 20 years? Crap, I'm old!
The Gent is a fantastic travel partner. While walking down memory lane with me...he got to meet some of my college pals, hear the stories and see the building on campus where my broadcasting journey began.
We ate and drank our way through Milwaukee. We toured the new Al McGuire center and the updated Communications building. It was a whirlwind weekend, for sure!!
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| The Gent picks out his favorites! |
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| Me and my favorite guy! |
Settled in the Sanctuary
March, 2011
My Southern Gentleman & I have a couple of milestones quickly approaching. In May we'll be celebrating our third year of wedded bliss in conjunction with our First anniversary in our lovely home. We continue to call our house; Our Sanctuary!
Gosh, each day this house lends itself to new experiences, adventures and memories-in-the-making. Recently, the Gent called me (while I was on the road for work) and told me that he'd seen SEVEN deer in our front yard while several rabbits hopped around too.
He was in "country-boy-hunter-heaven'!
Since the Gent hung the bird feeders, we are seeing a gi-normous variety of birds in our trees and yard. We've also noticed a Hawk that majestically flies from tree to tree and perches on branches overlooking our house. He looks so regal as he surveys all the action of the smaller birds at the feeders.
Yes, it's truly a 'Doctor-Doolittle -Dream- Land' for the Gent and I.
When the alarm goes off on a Monday and the mad-race to the airport begins...As the Sanctuary grows smaller in my review mirror, I frequently have to bite back a tear or two...and shift gears into work mode again. UGH!
The Gent & I joke about winning the lottery one day - and never having to worry about leaving the Sanctuary again. However, we also realize that to win the Lottery....we should probably begin PLAYING it one of these days.
I've had fun decorating our space and filling it with fantastic furniture finds. Our steel bed was made in Arkansas. Our dining room table was made by an Amish Craftsman in Indiana! God Bless American Made furniture!
Now that the interior is complete we plan to turn our attention to the exterior. This spring we plan to tackle landscaping. The Gent wants to plant a couple of Dogwoods and a Magnolia tree in the front yard. Yep, that's right - this former 'New York City President of the Sisters-in-Singlehood' is actually filled with anticipation for the arrival of the Dogwoods and Magnolia trees!
Yikes, I barely recognize my life!
However, living on two acres of wooded land surrounded by the lovely sounds and visions that nature creates...is a truly magical place to be.
Yep, it's a SANCTUARY.
Our Sanctuary!
Aug, 2010
The Southern Gent & I are getting settled into our Sanctuary!
Okay, so it's only 2 acres of wooded land in South Carolina. But, it's ours and we love it!!!
WE are Home!
May, 2010
After a long road with many turns....
The Southern Gentleman & I have found our home.
We are thrilled!!!
Humble Runner
October, 2009
I turned 40 over a year ago. The year I turned 40, I got married. Shortly after the marriage began, I landed an awesome job that required me to travel Monday thru Thursday/Friday nearly every week. LOTS of changes in a short amount of time, for sure.
However, in my head, I was still the former Division One collegiate athlete with 22 years of competitive triathlon experience. I'd been training and working out for something....for as long as I could remember.
When the body turned 40, the dis-connect with my brain began. My mind refused to recognize the extra flesh the body was welcoming. My mind seemed to overlook the lazy days on the sofa that took the place of 100 mile bike rides. Saturday morning snuggling with my amazing husband replaced the bike/run 'bricks' that were standard for years.
They say marriage is a lot of give and take.....I just never realized how quickly the 'new- life- replacing -old- life' - mutation would take place.
Although, having a Southern Gentleman for a husband has a pretty large up-side. Having him say, "you look beautiful," first thing in the morning makes me blush. Especially when I finally roll out of bed, shuffle to the full length mirror....only to see my hair disheveled and my pj's crumpled. The Southern Gentleman is clearly blinded by love...
I am a lucky girl, for sure.
After one year of marriage, another year further from 40 and a steady work/travel routine....I decided it was time to get my competitive 'edge' back. Unfortunately, I had to make a severe 'tweak' to the long hours of training. Biking was going to have to take a back seat. Swimming was sunk. During my work-week-travel...the easiest form of 'fitness' to fit into the schedule....was going to be my LEAST favorite method of training madness.
UGH - I was going to have to RUN more.
It's much easier and exceedingly less expensive to toss the Asics into the carry-on bag than it is to pack up the Trek Tri-bike. Yep, that settled it, I was going to have to make time to RUN.
At 6ft tall and (mumble, mumble....) pounds - I am NOT built for speed. I have stamina. I have personal fortitude...but, a small-boned-body-built-to-run - I DO NOT!
In college - I ran the basketball court like a gazelle. While winning medals in Triathlon, I did it primarily because of my biking ability....not because I was a speed demon on foot. My Triathlon strategy has always been to swim hard, bike harder...gain a substantial lead ....run a 10 min. mile.....and hang on for dear life.
Now, my new plan had nothing but ME, MY SHOES and the OPEN ROAD ahead of me. I was certainly out of my comfort zone. No doubt about it.
As 2009 began, I coordinated this seasons Racing Schedule. I scheduled several 5K races. Over the years, I had become a long distance snob. I rode 100 miles, I ran 1/2 marathons....I hadn't run a mere 3.1 miles since my 20s. Ah, how the mighty had fallen.
Yep, it was humbling.
MARCH - I registered for the Elizabeth 8k. I'd done that race the year before. In 2008, I'd done the run 2 months before my wedding. I was motivated to move so that I could fit into the DRESS. This year, my goal was to find a way not to have my lungs explode for fear that the 'crazed runners' would leap over my cold corpse - on their way to a Record-time!
Amazingly, I actually shaved a few seconds off my time this year and crossed the finish line - Lungs in tact. Success!
Historically, the summer months - are the prime racing months. This year, my crazy travel schedule for work - took all my stamina and strength of spirit. Being responsible for 24 Dementia 'neighborhoods' that span the country from Texas to Maryland - WAS MY WORKOUT!
As summer began to fade, I found a way to rebound - and decided to get back on the training-track. I registered for a HALF MARATHON. By August, I was feeling the 'lack-of-training-blues' and decided I needed a longer-distance goal....to get my training 'edge' back.
So, I set my sights on the THUNDER ROAD HALF MARATHON - December 12. Which gave me 5 months to get into 'road-ready' shape. I know I won't cross the Finish Line first - but, I am determined to keep a steady pace and try and finish in under 2 1/2 hours.
I've completed many HALF MARATHONS during my racing career. Some, as part of 1/2 Ironman Triathlons and some - as stand-alone races. In 2003, I competed in my first Half Ironman and I walked considerably in that 13.1 mile run. The following year, in 2004 I did the same Half Ironman again, shaved off 35 mins. from my overall time - didn't walk at all during the 13.1 mile run and I qualified for the National Half Ironman Championships (where I finished 4th). Using history as a guide, I am completely capable of attaining even my running goals. Could History repeat itself in 2009?
SEPTEMBER - 7th, I competed in a Labor Day 5K. I'm pretty comfortable with my 10 min. mile pace. When I'm biking - I'm able to dig deep and find the courage to cruise past as many folks as possible. When I'm running, I do my best to just hang on. However, because the competitive drive flows freely through my core - I find various ways throughout a running race for 'mini victories'. Little accomplishments that somehow help me to focus on the achievement as opposed to focusing on the burning sensation in my lower extremities.
Like, in the Labor Day race - when the 'old gray guy in the headband' jogs past me in the first 1/2 mile. I found my 'zone' and found the energy to pass him as he slowed up for water in mile 2. HA! mini-victory for me!
However, as I mentally high-fived myself for passing the 'old gray guy' I felt the youthful surge of energy as two young boys wearing high-top basketball shoes sailed past me like I was standing still. "Are you FREAKING KIDDING ME?" my brain screamed. "What the hell?" It was like these two kids were jogging home from a youth-basketball game...and they happened to wander onto the 5K race path. I was instantly demoralized. I felt like I had lead pipes for legs and was missing my left lung.
As Billy Joel crooned me along from my iPod, I was mentally kicking-my-own ass for not having the stamina to run faster then boys under the age of 10. I wanted to run faster and pass them however, I had over a mile left and if I allowed 'road-rage' to take over now....the EMS team would be peeling my cold corpse from the pavement on Labor Day. So, I focused on keeping my slow steady pace....and came to terms with the embarrassment of the whole situation.
I kept the young bucks in sight. For the next half mile they served as a reminder - that I was well-past my racing prime. Or, so I thought. After they had another surge of speed....I noticed that not only did they slow down significantly...the one on the right actually stopped and began walking. A few steps later...the one on the left stopped too! Both 'High-tops' were walking! Surely, I could pass them now!
Yep, it took about 40 feet, but I caught up with the devilish duo - and I sailed past them. As I wiped my brow, I spied the 3 mile marker. Sweet Sunshine - I was almost done! I crossed the Finish Line with lungs in tact and pride restored.
Five Days later on the 12th -I participated in the HOG JOG 5K. Besides having a cool name and being the signature race during the BBQ-cook-off weekend extravaganza, this race also included a BLOODY MARY tasting at the Finish Line.
Holy Crap - running through the haze of cooking BBQ to the Free Bloody Mary's at the end - this is RACING NIRVANA!
This run was considerably more hilly than the race five days earlier had been. My legs were on fire within the first 200 yards. Oh, not a good sign. Having the 'Crazy-Man-in-the-cape- and-HOG nose' pass me at the mile 1 marker was clearly humbling. But, I found a way to carry-on and actually completed this race 2 seconds faster than the previous race. Hmmm, not bad. Mini-success.
OCTOBER - Halloween Day, it was the Runway 5k. On a misty-morning, we all gathered on the Runway at the Charlotte International Airport. What a cool concept for a race. Amidst old relic flying machines and kids in costume - the race began. My strategy remained constant - slow and steady. The goal was to finish this 5K faster than I had the previous two while alleviating any cold-corpse scenarios.
I spent the first 1/2 mile jockeying for position. Trying to find the road-space to get into my own rhythm. With the iPod on high, I scanned the crowd in front of me, looking for that person - that could be my motivator. That person, I could keep pace with while biding my time in hopes of passing them. There she was, the 20-something with the purple T-shirt. My goal was to keep 'Purple T-shirt' in my direct line of vision until I was able to make a move.
As we closed out mile 1, an airplane took off from a neighboring runway. Through the music in my headphones, I could barely hear the planes noise.... However, the teenage girl off to my left went into near convulsions as she plugged her ears trying to squash the sound. "Ah, poor girl," I thought...."those young ears are still disturbed by loud noise." Years of working in radio with headsets covering my ears, had long since damaged my eardrums...and as she struggled with the sound - I sailed past her.
Hey, at this stage of racing - I relish ANY reason to pass a fellow competitor, regardless of their age or potential disabilities!
The tall guy moved past me in mile 2. 'Stretch' had a slow steady pace too, however because his legs were nearly 5 feet tall - his stride was his strength. I wondered if the Charlotte Bobcats had cut him recently...."does anyone even watch the NBA anymore?"......My mind was beginning to wander.
I snapped back into focus and found 'Purple T-shirt' just as she slowed up to grab the cup of water from the roadside volunteer. I kept moving...while 'Purple T-shirt' faded behind.
'Short-Shorts' casually jogged past me in full conversation with her gal-pal. Wow, those shorts were short. I quickly assessed her to be about my age and was curious if she'd recently purchased those shorts or were those a carry-over from her former youthful days. While I pondered that, I had a near miss with an aggressive woman pushing a BABY JOGGER. Ugh - I detest those freaking contraptions. It's not that I'm against them, in general - I just think they are totally unsafe when you have a couple thousand folks running in close proximity to one another. Baby Joggers should have races of their own!
She had clipped my left heel and in that moment, I found the fortitude from within to pick up the pace. Although she flew past me without a second glance....Her 'roll-by-assault' motivated me to finish strong. As I passed the mile 3 sign, my right hand was feverishly forwarding the tunes on my iPod shuffle, looking for the SONG to bring me to the Finish Line. Sting - no. Billy Joel - no. Barenaked Ladies - no. Ah, there it was - OLD SCHOOL MADONNA.
With Madonna's motivation, I pumped my arms and passed a wheezing woman on my way to the End. I finished this 5K in over 20 seconds faster than the previous races. Success!
That I didn't body slam 'Baby Jogger' when I saw her standing in line at the Porta-potty as I strolled to my car....Bigger Success!
Less than two months until the Half Marathon. This humble runner is making strides while passing the competition and dodging baby joggers!
Joe & Helen
June, 2009
My life is filled with travel size things. Travel size shampoo, lotion and perfume bottles. Everything is small-sized. I've learned how to roll my clothes to avoid wrinkles while I tuck them into my increasingly worn red roller bag. I'm nearly on a first name basis with TSA agents and flight crews around the country.
My road family is ever expanding. I witness thousands of small acts of kindness during the week - as I navigate around the country at the mercy of the 'Travel gods'.
The starched business guy in Atlanta who helped several co-passengers stow their bags in the overhead compartment. The Hertz bus driver in Houston who assured me I wouldn't miss my flight. (although she was sweet - she was WRONG!)
The Three US Airways ticket agents in Houston - who tried desperately to find a way to get me on that flight as I stood in front of them with crocodile tears rolling down my cheeks. Those tears, the result of me being a weary travelling worker who logged a full 22 1/2 hour day - by the time I got home at 1:00am.
Those three ticket agents gave it the old college try and although, I still didn't make the flight and had to switch airlines, it was their compassion and suggestions that eased the unfortunate situation....just a bit.
Yes, my travel family is growing. Each week brings a new adventure in patience and fortitude...because - much like your own genetic FAMILY - you can't pick your Travel Family either. So, you just have to learn how to cope.
Although the travel is a butt-kicker....the work that I do, is rewarding and fulfilling. I continue to be an advocate for Seniors with Alzheimer's disease and other forms of dementia. I support 24 communities and I'm on a mission to train, educate and model good care-behavior to all the staff that work with that compromised population. Those Seniors don't have their voice anymore - and...luckily for them - I have a BIG VOICE.
My silent vow to those Seniors- is that they will get good care!
Recently, I was in New Jersey visiting one of the communities. Their Director was smart, savvy and full of energy. The 'Vibe' in their Dementia area - was calm, soothing and welcoming. YEA! The Residents that lived there had diverse New Jersey backgrounds.
This location had several veterans, former school teachers and a former Highway Patrolman. He survived an entire career patrolling the roads of New Jersey and now here he was, still regal and stoic and living with Alzheimer's disease. The cruelty of the disease, often takes my breath away - and I've been doing this work for over ten years. Unfortunately, it never gets easier.
On this Jersey visit, as I stood in the main living room chatting with Roxanne, the Director of Dementia, we were approached by a gentleman. His smile was quick and his handshake was strong. Roxanne introduced me to JOE and quickly mentioned that the flame red Jaguar in the parking lot belonged to him.
It was at this moment that I had but a mere second to come up with a snappy comeback.
You see, in the Wonderful-World of Alzheimer's - you truly never know where the real truth lies and the 'fuzzy-memories and confusion' begins. So, as a trained professional- I've become a PRO at just - 'being in the moment' with anyone I meet within the secured walls of a Dementia unit. Some days a wrinkled- faced -senior will stand in front of me and they are convinced that they are 20 years old and I am a distant relative who has come to visit.
And, that's okay - I 'roll-with-it'. If that's who they think I am - I do my best to just 'be-in-the-moment' with them. The theory is, to minimize the anxiety and fear that goes along with losing your memory, it's best to let the person with the impairment be who they THINK they are and let them be where they THINK they are.
So, here I stood shaking hands with JOE and being told that his red Jag was in the parking lot. I smiled and said, "Gosh, don't we ALL wish we had a red Jaguar." Roxanne piped up quickly, "No seriously, Joe has a red Jaguar, he goes out every morning for the paper and coffee."
Wow, either this was the most LIBERAL secured Dementia Unit on the East Coast or....there was another explanation.
Roxanne shared the details with me. JOE'S wife HELEN had Alzheimer's and instead of leaving her alone in this particular Dementia area, JOE had decided to move in with HELEN. "We've been married over 55 years," JOE remarked. "I'm not about to let her go now."
The lump in my throat was overpowering.
It was then, that I met HELEN. A pint-sized, lovely lady with an impish grin and amazingly bright blue eyes. Her well maintained hair was thick and white. She was a bundle of energy and a bundle of words. She was drawn to me immediately. And I realized in a split second why it would be hard to be apart from her.
First, she complimented me on my blouse. "I just love what you are wearing," she cooed. "It's a lovely color on you." I loved HELEN instantly!
She and JOE stood close to each other and spoke over one another as they both brought me 'up-to-date' on their marriage and life journey. I learned that they'd never had children, that JOE worked for the Post Master General and that their wedding ceremony was at a Roman Catholic Church near the Jersey Shore.
I Loved them BOTH!
It was time for lunch. JOE took HELEN by the hand and guided her to their appointed table. He helped her order her meal and kept the table laughing with various quips and witty comments. I was in awe of his commitment to stand by his wife through this un-holy part of their life journey.
After lunch, for some reason, still unknown to me - HELEN was drawn right back to me. She complimented me on my blouse again. And stood close as she shared with me, in great detail, a story about the children that her nephew and his wife had adopted. She was animated as she explained about the children and the various countries that they were from. I was mesmerized by her story.
JOE stood nearby, with a loving smile on his face, he nodded his head and was equally as absorbed in the story HELEN was telling. She continued givings exquisite details about the various countries the adopted children were from. "That's amazing," I said. "What countries are they from?" HELEN came up for air for a brief second as she pondered the answer.
I turned to JOE - He shook his head and muttered gently, for only MY ears to hear..."I have no idea what she's talking about."
I turned back to HELEN, who was unfazed and non-pulsed. She was back into story-telling mode....and didn't skip a beat. Again, I had to swallow hard as I tried to compose myself. JOE was so loving and so supportive - he was the MODEL spouse. Selfishly, I wanted to take him on the road with me - so that HE could help me train all the paid professionals who didn't always seem to 'GET IT' the way JOE clearly did.
My bond with JOE and HELEN only deepened as they invited me into the room that they shared. I glanced around the tidy space. One twin bed on the left side while the other twin bed was up against the window. There were cherished possessions and pictures properly placed about, playing witness to a life that was fully lived.
JOE and I sat on the bed, under the window while HELEN stood close by. She continued to speak quickly sharing super-clear details about their wedding day. JOE handed me the amazingly well-kept wedding album. We flipped through the pages and I gazed at the black and white photos of the happy, smiling and much younger version of the two seniors that were with me now.
They looked like movie stars! And, I told them so. "Oh, you can't imagine how good our photographer was," HELEN said. "JOE, what was his name again?"
I held their photo album in my hand and turned the pages gingerly as both JOE and HELEN shared stories and details about every picture. I was completely captivated.
20 minutes later, I stood to leave. HELEN thanked me for stopping by, "I know you have such a busy schedule," she commented. I looked at her...clearly she didn't know my schedule, she didn't even know what I did for a living - but, she continued to amaze me with her steady stream of clear, concise language that was surprisingly coherent sounding for someone with Alzheimer's disease.
I thanked them for the visit from the bottom of my heart. JOE turned his back for a moment and opened up a dresser drawer. "Here," he said, "please take this - you've been so kind to us, I want you to have it,"
"Yes, please, you must take it" HELEN chirped.
JOE handed over a blue fleece scarf, neatly folded, that still had the sales tag attached. "JOE, really....you don't have to give me anything," I said.
"Please, I insist. I know you are busy and you've been so kind"
"Would you like something to drink?" HELEN offered.
I reached for the scarf and clutched it to my chest. At that moment in time - it was the GREATEST GIFT anyone had ever bestowed upon me. I was near my breaking point. I'd swallowed lumps and tears all day - in an attempt to be the consummate professional. But, my eyes glazed over as I stood in their one room space filled with 55 years of treasures.
I thanked them for their kindness and their generosity. I hugged them both and promised to visit again, someday soon.
I handed the lovely blue fleece scarf to Roxanne as I prepared to leave. She tucked it into her desk drawer with the promise she'd put it back, where it belonged in JOES drawer. We both knew that by the time they discovered it - they wouldn't remember they'd passed it on to me.
As I drove to the airport to fly back home to the SOUTHERN GENT, the tears came quietly. I could only hope and pray that the GENT and I would be half the people that JOE and HELEN were. Their love and JOE'S devotion was something that half the human race is chasing. And something that even Hollywood can't completely capture on film.
Later that night, as we sat on our sofa - I shared my story about JOE and HELEN with my wonderful SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN.
We both teared up and he reached for my hand.
We've got one year in the books, here's hoping for 54 more glorious years!
Long road Home
May, 2009
Recently, the Southern Gentleman and I took a trip to my home state of Wisconsin. This was to be his third visit to the Dairy State...and I was going back to the place where....it ALL began.
Dating all the way back to high school, I remember feeling like there was 'something else out there'. I felt constrained by the borders of Wisconsin. I'm not quite sure if I even knew what I was looking for...I just knew I felt restless and unsettled. And, I knew I needed to spread my wings. I had no clue where the final destination was - or how I'd even get there....but, I had to go searching.....
It was in college, when my dreams started to come into a clearer focus. I'd wanted to be a journalist for as long as I could remember. I'd been writing poems and short stories since I could hold a #2 pencil - and it only made sense to me - that I pursue a career in that business. So, I entered college planning on a career in print journalism. In my junior year... things changed.
A fellow classmate asked me to read the news on the campus radio station. Once the mic. light went on - and I began to speak....I was hooked. I changed my major to Radio Broadcasting the next day.
I've written many times before about my career journey and the twists and turns that have taken me in various directions for various reasons. When I reflect on my personal journey - I realize I've always had a love/hate relationship with my home state. Wisconsin represents missed opportunities, lost jobs and lost love to me.
However, in the last year I think I've finally found some personal peace. That peace is coming from a variety of sources. The addition of the Southern Gentleman to my life is probably a large part of my personal growth.
But, on many levels I still identify with my Sisters-in-Singlehood sorority. I may not qualify to be their leader & President anymore. Yet, I was single for 40 years and there are attitudes and tendencies that just don't vanish because I have a ring on my finger.
Thankfully, I married a man who honors my need to continue to spread my wings and fly. For that, I'm eternally grateful.
This trip back to Wisconsin was to be a bit different. It was the first time that I planned to re-connect with friends I hadn't seen since I left in 2006. I don't leave a large list of folks behind in Wisconsin that I call friend. I've never been able to figure that out. Considering I was born and raised there - one would assume that all my strongest friendships are rooted there. Unfortunately, that's not my reality.
I'm not the gal that has hundreds of high school and college friends that I keep in touch with. I'm the chick that has a handful of super-cool gal pals that I call friend.
Typically my gal-pals are women that have different stories and have travelled different paths to come into my life but who have similar traits in common. They are strong and empowered. They are driven and passionate. Those are the types of ladies I call friend. They are not victims. They are funny, bright and full of energy.
I made plans to connect with three of my Wisconsin based gal-pals. Friday we were hanging with my girl 'S' and Saturday we were hanging with 'D' & 'J'. Not only was it a time for me to re-connect with ladies I'd once been close to but it was an opportunity for them to meet the Southern Gentleman and to get to know the guy that had finally tamed me. Yikes!
It was soooooooooo great to see my girls and share stories from years gone by as well as catch up on their lives right now. I got to see pictures of kids that were mere babies just a minute ago...and we laughed as we ate, drank and reminisced about all the silly things from our past.
Don't worry - I didn't subject the Gent to a weekend of high-levels of Hormonal-Chick energy...there were MEN involved in these reunions. Friday night, there were two other guys in the mix. And, on Saturday 'J' brought her husband. There was a balance.
Each of these ladies represent moments of my past. Things became a bit more clear for the Southern Gentleman as he met the people who were in my world before he came along.
When the weekend was over, I was filled with a warmth I wasn't sure I recognized. It only took a moment to realize that the warmth I felt was actually a new sense of belonging and connection to Wisconsin. Thanks to my gal-pals.
'J' is the gal that took a big chance on me when I entered the world of Senior Health care. With virtually no experience, she took me under her wing and opened up a whole new professional path to me. For that, I will be forever grateful. She encouraged me to learn and allowed me to grow. That's an amazing gift, for sure.
'D' is the gal that's equally as quirky as me. We were two off-beat souls that found each other. Her passion for protecting the elderly is as strong as mine and her heart is as big as all outdoors. She was my 'wing girl' as we navigated, with varying levels of success, through the bar scene in search of....... whatever. Many a crazy night was spent with 'D'. Many a phone call was spent trying to unravel the mysteries of the opposite sex.
'S' is the gal that was right by my side after I lost my job. She's known me since my broadcasting days. She shares my passion for sports and is one of the funniest folks I've ever known. Her one liners and 'witti-cisms' always impress. She's open minded and always seems to be the calm in the storm.
Wisconsin has broken my heart many times over. Yes, there were missed opportunites, job loss and heart break. But, now I have found a new place in my heart for Wisconsin.
Now, I can acknowledge that Wisconsin will always be my original home. My parents and my siblings all live within a 30 mile radius of each other. Family will always connect me to my home state.
Wisconsin, is also the place that I nurtured my love of broadcasting and then, years later was the place that I shifted careers and given a chance to grow in a new industry. Wisconsin is the place where I developed a basketball career that spanned over 20 years and included a free college education. Wisconsin is the place where I embraced good, hard-working, midwestern values that still drive me to this day.
Wisconsin is the place where some of the greatest ladies I've ever met still reside. Yes, I'm finally at a place in my life where I choose not to turn my back on Wisconsin anymore. It may never be my primary zip code....but, it is the place where it ALL BEGAN.
Road Ramblings....
March, 2009
I've been on the new job 6 weeks. I hit the ground running....or should I say, FLYING.
In what felt like a 'nano-second'...I went from punching a clock and working 40 hours a week... to flying out on a Monday and returning home LATE on a Thursday (when I'm lucky) or Friday.
The new job is fantastic. Surreal actually. I typically pinch myself as I drive to the airport. I'm still in awe that someone is paying me for my knowledge and 'expertise' in the dementia care industry. I'm a Regional Director and am responsible for travelling to the various 24 special Dementia Care Units that our company has in the Central Division.
Or, as we call them - the Life Guidance Neighborhoods. I support the caregivers, directors and executive staff at the property to ensure that they are in compliance and providing quality care. I support them in a myriad of ways.
It is my responsibility to make sure those employees honor the commitment we've made to the families of the lovely folks who inhabit the Life Guidance neighborhood. All of those folks have Dementia - most have Alzheimer's disease. And, I have become their greatest Advocate.
I am in PROFESSIONAL NIRVANA.
The job is a super fit. I'm finally able to infuse all the components of what I love about the industry. I'm reaching a larger audience as I strive to educate, train and support caregivers throughout eight states. And, the best part is that when I'm in those neighborhoods.... I get amazing 'face' time with the actual residents themselves. I'm still able to hug, touch and speak to the folks who will benefit.
I'm still amongst MY PEOPLE. Now it's on a broader scale.
The downside of the job is that I'm gone 80% of the time.
Gone from the SOUTHERN GENT. Gone from the townhouse we share and gone from the supreme comfort of our brand new bed. Gone from home cooked meals and gone from the daily routine of a new marriage that I was just starting to get used to.
We just celebrated ten months of wedded bliss this week. It certainly has been a whirlwind of a year for both of us and this new transition just seems appropriate as we are getting quite adept at....ROLLING WITH THE PUNCHES.
For those who know me best - you know I'm rarely at a loss for a comment. Especially when the comments are regarding the foibles and idiosyncrasies of fellow members of the human race that I encounter. (I welcome you to ready virtually EVERY other BLOG entry from the past couple of years)
This new job puts me right in the heart of the daily 'doings' of the human race. Well, at least the Travelling members of the human race.
UGH - Every week I careen through airport terminals, TSA Check-points, airport bathrooms and AIRPLANES themselves. Each stop-point along the journey...gives me enough 'material' to host a month-long behavioral tirade, for sure.
As a lifelong voyeur of the human condition I have spent my entire career (both of them) observing, reporting about or supporting and educating PEOPLE. So, with my new weekly travel schedule - I'm like a Societal Scientist who is living amongst their test-subjects!!
Its' Un-FREAKING believable.
Each airport and travel experience brings a new set of societal circumstances into my world. I'm beginning to embrace my FLYING FAMILY.
And, like traditional family units - you can't pick them. You can't pick your actual family members - you are BORN into the relationship. The FLYING FAMILY structure is similar....you can't pick them - you are simply FORCED to deal with them.
In my case;
The General Motors employee who sat next to me from Detroit to Charlotte and regaled the Genius of President Obama while detailing his General Motors salary structure and his Pro-Union viewpoint. (i neglected to tell him i'm an anti-union staunch conservative who drives a Honda)
The 30-something parents who held up the TSA check-point line in Dallas while they 'negotiated' with their screaming toddler trying to convince him to get out of his stroller on his own so they could put it on the conveyor belt. (i didn't tell them that i'm a supporter of the age-old parental system of NOT being a FRIEND to your kid)
The small business owner in the Cleveland airport who overheard something I said in a cell phone conversation and then spent the rest of our time together trying to get me to join her computer based pyramid/ponzy- scheme type business. (note to self: no more talking on the cell phone, while sitting directly next to someone who appeared NOT to be listening)
The tall blond 20-something that was squished between me and the other business traveller from Detroit to Charlotte who refused to take her 'Run-DMC-style' headsets off while feverishly sending text messages from her space-age communication device. She and the flight attendant nearly went to 'blows' over the 'Turn-off -all-electronic-devices' rule before take-off. (secretly I prayed for the scuffle to ensue which would've surely resulted in Blondie being kicked off the plane therefore leaving an empty seat for more elbow room)
The TWO adult females who didn't wash their hands after using the toilet in the Cleveland airport bathroom. (you KNOW who you are.....)
Yep, my FLYING FAMILY is everywhere. And, much like my own blood related relatives...I gladly will put up with them while simultaneously formulating super stories to share at cocktail parties!
That's my oath, as a Social Scientist - specializing in the Human Condition.
I'm HUMBLED.
March, 2009
I'm a non-conformist. I've always ventured onto the path less travelled. I've never been 'in the box' cuz I've spent my entire life living, working and playing - OUTSIDE the box, the lines, the rules.....whatever.
In sports - I was the underdog. The girl that had to spend countless additional hours in the gym. It was sweat equity that led to my success - not always natural ability.
Professionally - I've had to scrape, claw and chisel from the bottom of the ladder. In fact, I've done that in 2 careers - and multiple times, thanks to bumps and job loss along the way.
In love? - Well - let's be honest. I'm the back-of-the-pack gal. I waited 40 years for Mr. Right to arrive.
I lost my first job - back in the late 90's during the dot-com crisis. I lost my second job in 2006 - and felt like the lone-unemployed loser on the planet. While everyone was buying their Mc-Mansions, travelling around the world and having babies - I was cutting coupons, working for a temp agency and selling my condo - just to financially survive.
I landed back in health care and found myself back in familiar territory. At the Bottom of the professional ladder. Ugh - it's an exhausting place to be. It's especially exhausting - after you'd spent some healthy time - higher up the corporate ladder. For a period - I'd found a position at the mahogany table in the Board Room. I was involved and connected. I made a nice living and was carving a niche in the Senior Living industry.
But, in September of 2008, I was back at the bottom, looking up the skirts of the folks standing on my hands and shoulders of that damn corporate ladder. I felt blessed to be back in health care - however...was filled with angst and stress as I wondered how I could muster the strength, Yet Again - to claw my way back up to the top.
As the economy and the world around me became more crazy and more un-settled I actually found a way to just be satisfied with my job. The paycheck was small - but, heck - I was getting paid, while others were beginning to lose their jobs. Although, I knew I was capable of so much more - I found a way to wrap my brain around my professional status.
And then - the call came in.
I'd interviewed for a job back in November and had mentally dismissed it - when the conversations came to a halt over the Holidays.
I continued to punch the time clock on the freaking wall every day - and just mentally prepared to do that until the END OF TIME!
Then, one day as I walked between buildings at the job that had become my albatross - I checked my voice mail messages - and there it was. The voice of the recruiter. She was curious, if I may still be interested in the professional opportunity we'd discussed several months earlier.
I returned her call - and everything after that became a bit of a blur. I had a couple of more phone interviews with the major players followed by an excruciating on-line Personality Evaluation. The OFFER call came quickly after that and before I knew it - I was sitting in the office of the Director of HR at my albatross - handing in my letter of resignation.
Ah, I could actually see DAYLIGHT from my new professional position. No more bottom of the ladder!
However, this whole experience has given me new reasons to pause and be cautious. I found myself asking - "Why me? Why now?" At the most financially un-certain and un-settling time in the history of America - I was landing the best job - I'd ever had. Was this a joke?
Not only was I not going to punch a time clock anymore..... NOW - I had an entire REGION to cover. No more WALLS confining me - And, the expense account, salary and bonus opportunities were a nice added value as well.
But, why? How is this possible? And, I'm not kidding - these thoughts began creeping in - and began keeping me awake at night. Yes, I'd waited, prayed and held my breath, hoping to be in this exact position - however, now that it was here - I felt un-nerved, un-prepared and self conscious. What was happening to me?
I voiced these concerns over the phone to my number one fans - My Parents. Clearly, they've followed my life and career journey - the entire way. They'd held my hands and wiped my tears and cheered and supported every success and hiccup along the way. During our celebratory phone call - as I explained the details of this new opportunity...I paused and said the words,
"you know - I'm a bit uncomfortable. As half the free world seems to be losing their jobs, why am I getting such a great job?"
My dear father, didn't miss a beat. He consoled me by acknowledging my concerns and pointed out, in the way only a father could - "Well, Ellen you need to be humble. This is humbling, for sure. Count your blessings."
My eyes welled up with tears. He was right.
hum·ble
adj. hum·bler, hum·blest
1. Marked by meekness or modesty in behavior, attitude, or spirit; not arrogant or prideful.
My dear sweet Southern Gentleman was equally appropriate. One night, while we were in the kitchen making dinner, I paused and uttered the words, " What if this goes away? I've accepted awesome jobs before - that actually turned out too good to be true. I'd lost both those jobs - is it possible, that this time, the Third time is the charm? Or, what if I lose this job too?" my voice was filled with panic.
The Southern Gentleman turned to me, and in his soft voice complete with southern accent he said, " Well then - you'll find another job and we'll just go on like before...."
I smiled and my heart skipped a beat.
Yep, many reasons to be HUMBLE.
A MILLION miles from where I began
December, 2008
I just celebrated my first Christmas as a married woman. The Southern Gentleman was like a rambunctious little boy on Christmas Day. Woke up early with a gi-normous smile on his face and an even brighter twinkle in those blue eyes. He'd been anxiously anticipating Christmas since Halloween. By Thanksgiving, his enthusiasm for Christmas was even rubbing off on me, a little. And believe me, I am the ORIGINAL Christmas Grinch - ask anyone that knows me.
The Gent was on a one-man mission to convert me from the cynical dis-interested Christmas scrooge that I'd been for as long as I could remember - into a smiling, pleasant, angelic Christmas Spirit.
God Bless him!
Christmas night, I was nestled into the 'nook' of my husband, his arm around me and my head on his shoulder. From our love seat vantage point - we could see the cousins, aunts, uncles and nephews around the room. The Christmas tree glowed from the corner while the candles bathed the room in a soft warmth.
The Gents' family was sharing stories and re-living family histrionics from years-gone-by. Even though I'd only known these people for a little over a year.....I had heard some of these epic-stories before. But, it didn't matter...the laughter and the love was evident. For the first time since my own childhood - I found myself enjoying Christmas!
Wow, I was a MILLION miles away from where my journey began.
There have been so many moments throughout my seven month marriage - that I have to pause and reflect. I reflect upon what my life was like just a few years ago. I reflect about my previous profession and the folks I considered friends. I reflect about the men I had dated and realize what a complete waste of time those un-holy unions were.
When the SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN holds my hand or gives me a wink of his eye from across the room - my heart melts to a puddle of love. I realize that all those so-called 'relationships' were just a figment of my imagination. Not a single one of those men I called boyfriend could even catch my attention now. They could be naked and on fire - and I wouldn't even cast a gaze in their direction.
The SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN has changed my entire outlook on what is attractive and meaningful in a relationship. I'm a MILLION miles away from where my journey began.
The people I call 'FRIEND' is a much smaller number than it was back in my 20s and early 30s. Gosh, back in those days - friends were synonymous with DRINKING buddies. Friends became anyone who was available and enjoyed the same bars and clubs I did. Not that I drank a lot - but, I did like to go out and have a good time....often.
Now? Well, I can count my closest and dearest friends on ONE HAND. Unfortunately for me, they span the countryside. From Virginia to Texas and into New York, not a single dear friend lives in the City I inhabit. This doesn't count the SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN. Clearly, he is my best friend, my favorite person....But, a woman needs a strong circle of Gal-Pals....like-minded-ladies....Chicks, who 'GET IT'.
And, now that I've crossed over into the decade of the NEW THIRTY....I just find it nearly impossible to expand the circle of tolerable females, Ladies - who accept me as I am, flaws and all. Who don't judge - who support at all costs - yet, tell me when I've lost my mind - and are willing to help me find it. Those are the types of gals that grow increasingly difficult to find - the older we get. Which makes me appreciate the sisters that have seen me through it all. I met my Texas gal-pal when I was 18. Good Lord - I don't even resemble the person I was when we met...neither does she.
And, that's okay. We've BOTH come a MILLION MILES from where that journey began.
Professionally? Yikes - I don't even recognize myself in that category anymore. This area, has been the most difficult to come to terms with. The afore-mentioned gal-pals can attest - I still have a long way to travel..to be okay with my current professional position in life.
As a Broadcast Journalist - I was in the center of it all. I had front row seats and was witness to some of the greatest moments in SPORTS HISTORY. I was court side back in the 90s when the Chicago Bulls (you know the REAL Bulls- Jordan, Pippen, Rodman - the one-name wonders!) won their 70th consecutive victory against the Milwaukee Bucks at the Bradley Center. That was the first time I interviewed Michael Jordan. It was sports nirvana.
I was at the Jets home opener when Vinnie Testeverde went down with a season-ending injury and Keyshawn Johnson cried at the podium in the post game press conference.
I BROKE the story on New York radio - when the Jets coach, Bill Parcells (aka - the Big Tuna) announced Bill Belichick as his replacement - only to have Belichick take the podium and say, "Thanks, but no Thanks - I'm going to New England." That was a sports moment - that still gives me chills. I remember rushing to the ladies bathroom and calling the radio station and demanding the producer put me on the air immediately. From the acoustically challenged bathroom at the Jets training facility...I broke the biggest story of the moment. Memories...........................
I was invited to parties and had NFL and NBA head coaches on speed dial. I ate sushi several times a week and people recognized my voice when I spoke.
Now? I'm as far away from the bright lights of Broadway as one person could possibly get. I punch a clock and am responsible for the 'Life Enrichment' of 33 men and women who suffer from Alzheimer's disease. The corporate mandate is that NO ONE can work over 40 hours per week, they aren't matching our 401K this year -thanks to the economy... and they've even taken away a vacation day from everyone.
I've gone from the court side at Madison Square Garden to the Bedside of a dying resident. I don't interview professional athletes anymore...I comfort people who don't even remember my name. I make over 25 thousand dollars less than I did from my last job.
However, I've never been as enriched and as fulfilled as I am in this current role. Sure, the micro-managing of Health Care is a challenge for a creative free spirit, like myself. Yet, I am forging new paths and bringing my residents along for the ride. I've developed programs and initiatives at every company that has employed me. My broadcast background actually was a superior training ground for 'reaching -across -the -isle' and forging partnerships that old-school health care folks never even thought of.
Instead of breaking the story or getting the quote - the new professional buzz is to develop creative programming for my residents with Memory impairment. We don't play Bingo every day in my building. We go to the Theater and out to lunch. We don't sit and watch the world go by - we invite area dance and music professionals in - to entertain us. And, yes - I mean professional. I got a local Ballet group to bring a scaled-down ensemble in to perform the NUTCRACKER -in full costume. It was a great programming moment.
My residents don't always remember my name, but hell - neither did Michael Jordan or Patrick Ewing. The work I do now is incredibly rewarding. Incredibly LOW PAYING....but, none-the-less.....rewarding. And, as I continue to wrap my mind around the low wages and the nearly non-existent recognition for good work.............
this leg of my journey is already propelling me a MILLION MILES AWAY from where I began...and that's okay.
This is Why....
November, 2008
Six months of marriage is now behind us. Each day I live and love with the Southern Gentleman brings a new revelation.
Having covered the New York Jets football team as a beat reporter for three seasons, I felt well prepared as to the inner-sanctum of MEN. I had heard the off-color conversations, I had smelled the odors after a game, I had seen the nude-pin-ups in many of their lockers......I was a chick with inside-the-locker-room experience.
Surely daily life with the Southern Gentleman wouldn't bring any new surprises.....would it? I'd seen it all, I'd heard it all.....right?
Ah, the naivety of a blushing bride....
The Gent can be a sassy little boy one minute followed by long bouts of Fraternity- Chapter- President. Prior to my arrival, there was a bear rug on the man-cave floor. And, I mean BEAR rug - full head with teeth and outstretched paws with nails. UGH! Empty Corona beer cases lined an entire wall of the second bedroom. His version of Andy Warhol modern art....I guess.
The black leather furniture and the black painted pressed-board TV cabinet the size of Delaware, were the first things to be loaded onto the Salvation Army truck. Followed by the life size black panther figure-statue...thing. The bear rug? Well, that got packed into a box and given back to the cousin who had handed it off to the Southern Gent in the first place. The cousin's wife had 'vetoed' the bear years ago - Aha! - Enter the tornado from the North (that's me) and now, the bear is their problem again! Victory!
From what I understand, I'm luckier than most ladies. My mate can cook and is actually a stellar house-keeper (for a guy). He'll wipe up the counter top. At times I have to look away, as he wipes the counter dry with his UNDERSHIRT - but, his attempt at housekeeping is what I try and focus on.
He unloads the dishwasher. (the chore I DETEST the most). He does laundry and has gotten better at folding my underpants rather than dancing around with them on his head. The bras, still land on his head as he wraps the straps under his chin and stands with his hands on hips and his chest bloated out. He resembles an odd-version of a Benny Hill meets Tim Conway -type character.
The Gent has no sisters and this becomes painfully clear as he discovers all the female nuances that I bring to the relationship. The plucking, poking and picking that I perform as part of my pre-bedtime routine....remains a mystery to him. The hand lotion and lip gloss next to the bedside still garners comments when applied - he cannot comprehend why I need those accoutrement's at bedtime. God Forbid if he sees me in my weekly Mud-mask...his fits of giggles can be heard throughout the house.
Our conversations and back and forth banter - is the highpoint of our relationship though. His southern accent combined with his innate tendency to mis-pronounce words and phrases is legendary. We've argued exhaustively over the phrase, "Cup of Twa" vs. "Cup of Tea". He is convinced that "Cup of Twa" is the proper version because it's a combination of 'tea' and 'repertoire'. - "Sweetie, that makes even LESS sense," I insist.
Six months in, however, now I just roll my eyes and accept his version as I silently pray he never uses the term outside the four walls of our private home.
In addition to his mis-pronunciations are the even wittier made-up words he uses to describe the various ways I wear my hair. For example, when I wear a single pony tail in the back of my head - he calls it a PONIN (poe-nin) not to be confused with a NUBBIN, which was the pony tail before my hair grew out several inches. A bun on the top of my head is a GRANIN (gran-in) and God Forbid if I wear two ponytails - because then I have to hear him call out in a sing-song voice about my DULINS (dew-lins).
Our day to day life is a constant exploration of male/ female combined with North vs. South tendencies. I've said it before - we are like the North/South version of Lucille Ball and Ricky Ricardo. Who needs reality TV - I'm living it myself, for sure.
Prior to Halloween this year, I had commented several times about my desire to pick a pumpkin. "Let's go to a pumpkin patch," I proclaimed. "Ugh," he grunted "just get one at the Super-Store"
"No way!" I fired back. It just seemed WRONG to buy a pumpkin from a bin at Wally World. "I want to PICK a pumpkin!"
One night, only days before Halloween, we pulled into the parking lot of the local Super-Store. There, under a gi-normous spotlight was an equally gi-normous cardboard bin - loaded full of pumpkins with a smiley-faced embossed sign promoting PUMPKINS FOR SALE - $3.99.
We both saw the display (it was impossible not to). The Gent parked the car and as I was getting out - I heard him proclaim - "There you go baby, just PICK YOUR NOSE and buy a pumpkin here and call it a day."
Over the roof of the car our eyes locked and I asked, "What did you just say?"
"I said," he proudly repeated "just PICK your NOSE, buy a pumpkin here and call it a day - problem solved." His grin combined with a twinkle in his eye was followed by a bout of laughter that became contagious.
He reached for my hand and we walked towards the Wally World entrance - we chuckled together through several isles before I spoke, "This is why I married you."
My DMV Family
October, 2008
One of the bonus points of being married - is the ability to join your finances. Well, I suppose it wouldn't be a bonus if the person you married was a near-bankrupt spend-thrift....but, fortunately for me, I married a man that had a similar view of the FINANCIAL world...earn it, save some and spend a little.
And, during these troubled times - it's nice to have a partner in finance who is truly on the same team as you.
By August, I had paid off my Honda Civic. Yipppee, another monthly payment that was being distinguished. The thrill of the Pay-Off was short lived, however - when the Honda Finance Agent on the other end of the phone told me that he'd mail me the Title - and he added, "Then, you'll take that to the DMV and have the title transferred to your name."
My heart skipped a beat, "What?" I nearly yelped. "I have to go to the DMV? Really? Is there ANY OTHER WAY?"
The Honda Guy sighed, "I'm afraid not. But, hey - Congratulations on paying off your vehicle, it's been our pleasure doing business with you."
"Yea, Yea, whatever....." I mumbled. I broke out in a sweat as we hung up the phone.
The DMV and the Social Security offices had been FAR TOO familiar to me in the last several months.
ANOTHER by-product of my HOLY UNION to the Southern Gentleman was that I had to have all of my legal documents changed over to my new married name. As independent as I proclaim to be - I had decided to take the name of my husband. After each prolonged trip to the government agencies to get my social security card changed THEN my drivers license - I would enter the front door of our Townhouse and proclaim;
"We are NEVER getting divorced because I NEVER want to go through this crap again. You are STUCK with me"
Each time the Southern Gent would smile and say, "I know baby, I know....."
It took me a couple of weeks to get both the courage and the energy to make yet another pilgrimage to the local DMV location. In fact, I took the whole day off from work. I didn't want the additional stress of having to coordinate this trip with my work schedule too.
I purposefully arrived at the store-front location at approximately 11:20am. I figured the morning rush would already have dissipated and the lunch crowd wouldn't have arrived yet. Logical, right?
I parked my newly paid off car and crossed the parking lot to the front entrance. I thought it was a good sign that the line wasn't out the door and spilling onto the sidewalk. I'd heard those horror stories from folks who'd made this trip before me.
I entered and my nostrils sucked in the damp, dank and musty fragrance that results from too many people in too small of a space for too long of a time. UGH. I prepared for the worst.
I glanced up at the dingy wooden signs hanging by chain links from the ceiling. The signs gave instructions as to which line you were supposed to stand in, depending on which service you needed. I was thrilled to see that my designated line was nearly 10 people shorter than the other. Okay, another good omen.
I took my place at the end of the line. As sipped from my water bottle, I visually grazed the crowd surrounding me. This DMV line was a diverse mix of people that could rival a UNITED NATIONS monthly meeting. Every age, gender and ethnic group were represented in this tiny, stuffy location in North Carolina. Good gracious.
Had I crossed the equator?? Damn! I didn't have my Pass Port.
Once I'd assessed the make-up of the crowd, I glanced at my watch. A few minutes had passed and I was still standing on the dirty linoleum tile at the end of the line. However, now four more people were behind me.
I noticed an uncomfortable tension and a low murmur in the crowd ahead of me. It was then, that I saw the bright yellow plastic sign with red letters - OUT TO LUNCH. Apparently, as I'd entered the DMV... the lady who'd been serving OUR LINE had defiantly dismissed the crowd in front of her as she placed her sign on the counter and left her post. Lovely.
I chortled out loud at the IRONY of an OUT-TO-LUNCH sign posted by a worker at a DMV office. I mean, hello? Isn't it the public perception that all the government workers employed by the DMV are PERMANENTLY out-to-lunch??? Isn't that a personality REQUIREMENT to working there?
The Asian woman a few folks ahead of me, turned and smiled. I asked her how long she'd been standing in this line, "nearly an hour & a half," she chirped sweetly. I was amazed by her perky attitude in the face of such...CRAPPY SERVICE!
The young Hispanic woman standing directly in front of me, shifted the toddler she was holding. The child was dead weight and fast asleep in her arms. As she did that, the black guy behind me commented that they needed benches so that we could sit down.
My DMV family was taking shape.
Over the course of the next TWO HOURS - I got to know those family members quite well. There was a retired NYC police officer, a tall guy celebrating his birthday, a European couple that looked like they'd stepped off the set of any John Hughes movie from the 80's. The guy behind me kept us all laughing. Although he proclaimed to be an electrician, I told him he'd missed his calling as a comedian.
And, all the while our family gathering was evolving - the DMV workers proceeded to take turns posting the yellow plastic - OUT TO LUNCH sign. I don't know why, but I was amazed and mesmerized by the sheer lunacy of government workers taking lunch breaks... while tired, hungry and angry patrons stood in front of them, waiting for service.
Not to mention, that each worker was either near or severly obese. So, skipping a LUNCH BREAK once in awhile, was probably Doctor recommended!
By the time I reached the front of the line, my back ached, I was out of water and felt like I needed a shower. When it was my turn to approach the damaged counter, I walked to the window of the woman who had LUNCHED first. I'd been in line so long, I actually bit my tongue in an effort to resist the urge to ask her - "Isn't it time for your HAPPY HOUR break?"
Once the experience was over and I climbed back into the vehicle that I now officially OWN, I felt numb and was mentally exhausted. However, I'll always have the memories of my diverse DMV family.
As I turned left onto the road home, I wondered how the tall guy was going to celebrate the rest of his birthday....................
We Travel Well
August, 2008
The Southern Gentleman and I are approaching FOUR MONTHS of wedded 'bliss'.
Well, 'bliss' may be a bit of a stretch. We're still adjusting to the day-to-day' stuff' of having another human being in your space.
I'm still trying to wrap my brain around - how it is possible for my sweet husband to be capable of getting the food out of its container, digesting it, getting the dishes back into the kitchen however - for some odd and unexplainable reason, he can't take the LAST LEAP of putting the used dishes in the DISH WASHER!
The sweet SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN will come in the front door after a long day of work, give me a tender kiss on the cheek as he passes by me... on his way to the sofa. A mere 'nano-second' later, I follow him... in his path as I sweetly ask him about his work day.
To my UTTER AMAZEMENT - I'll find him sitting on the sofa wearing nothing but his underpants, black socks and white under-shirt!!
It's as if his clothes MAGICALLY fall off his body as he strolls from the kitchen a mere 18 feet into the living room.
The site of my husbands boxer-briefed butt - hitting the cushions of our $1,000 contemporary sofa, makes me shudder. ......I want to implode, when he places his moist-black- socked-feet on our equally 'hip' coffee table.
I want to gauge my own eyes out....just to block the image. YIKES!
However, when he looks at me with those ultra-blue eyes and he makes me laugh at the most INAPPROPRIATE moments he melts my heart over and over and over. When he walks me to my car on a rainy morning while holding the umbrella or when he greets me at the end of the day with a Bloody Mary in a chilled glass.... I remember why we stood at the alter in front of God and our family and pledged our love to each other.
I've realized something else - WE TRAVEL WELL TOGETHER.
This is a HUGE detail to discover. The SOUTHERN GENT and I have taken several mini-trips since we've been married and I'm thrilled to report that we make fantastic travel companions.
Although I'm an ULTRA-PLANNER in my daily life - I try and relax a bit when on vacation. I like to have a 'casual plan'. Nothing too detailed or time sensitive. When on vacation I like to sleep late and NOT follow an arduous schedule. Thankfully, my husband has a similar travel strategy.
He rolls with the punches. He keeps me calm as we navigate through AIRPORT HELL. If we travel by car, he does all the driving. (I offer to help, but he refuses to relinquish the wheel) And, that's okay-by-me. Considering I'm the gal that would fight sleep on a quick jaunt from Milwaukee to Chicago. (a mere 90 miles) If I have to drive any distance longer than 45 mins...my eyelids get heavy and my legs cramp up.
So, the SOUTHERN GENTS' desire to drive the auto - is an amazing compliment to my desire to sit in the passenger seat, read magazines interspersed with lengthy moments of napping.
Finding out we have similar TOURISM TASTES is such a lovely revelation. Considering, my family is nearly 1,000 miles away from where we currently live. And, my closest friends are scattered from Virginia to Texas and New York.
We will be travelling. Therefore, having the SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN as a Travel Companion - is a pretty nice bonus to this whole married-life-thing.
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