Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.

Category Archives: Uncategorized


by 5 Comments

Update

Thought you’d enjoy laughing with me.  This morning Katie asked to go out and I figured she needed to “go.”  So out we went, and she ran straight over to her mini teeter, jumped on it, ran to the other end, stood 2o2o and looked at me with expectant eyes.  Lucky for me I had a few pieces of kibble in my pocket.  Then she jumped off, turned and ran across it the other way and wouldn’t get off to go do her job.  In fact I had to bribe her to come back inside!  She was going to stand on that teeter till she got what she wanted!

She’s kinda stubborn.


by 8 Comments

Dreams

So do you dream?  Do you remember them after you wake up?  Are they in color?  Some of my dreams stay with me through the day, some of them have stayed in my memory for years.  I had one of those this morning that I’ll share, just because it was so odd.

Our family’s truck crash attorney J was driving me and all my siblings  from NYC to Chicago in a van to attend some sort of conference.    Before we left the city we were in a parking lot in a part of the city that was … well… let’s just say photogenic in a grubby and gritty kind of way. J is outside the van on the driver’s side talking to Jo the director of our nonprofit.  My three siblings are scrunched into the back seat.   I’m sitting in the front passenger seat, the door open, and trying to get my camera to turn on to take a picture of a building and the debris around it that actually are in some really beautiful colors, when a big and old cadillac convertible shows up, stuffed full of really big guys and they are mumbling about some white bxxxx taking pictures, and suddenly I’m feeling really threatened and I tell J to stop talking to Jo  and lets get going.

“Good idea” says J and he gets in the van and we are pulling away, but now he’s talking on his cell phone, ordering something…and then we’re in a parking garage and there are all these groups of Broadway dancers practicing their routines, all in their spangly costumes, bright colors, lots of sequins, lots of high kicks etc and we’re trying to drive through and around several of these groups and I still can’t get my camera to work..  then we get near a stairwell and someone is waiting there.  It’s a waitress with the lunch that J had ordered!  There’s a hot dog wrapped up in a white paper napkin, and a styrofoam plate of chicken, just a drumstick and a breast, bone in, and something else on another paper plate, and a manhattan (drink) in a real glass!  And it all gets handed to me along with a knife and fork also rolled in a white paper napkin.

I’m holding all this and Jeff is driving (we’re out on a road somewhere now) and I’m considering what to do with all this food, and especially the manhattan (which is a drink from WAY back in my college days!) and I tell J that he can’t have the drink because he’s driving and he said it was for ME because I seemed “a  little stressed and needed to relax” so I had all the food back to my three siblings to split up, along with the one knife and fork and settle in for the trip sipping my drink.

Then we’re in a very crowded conference room and I’m glad there are so many people there.  J says he’s going to start things off by playing a video that “insurance companies use to get you convinced of their side of the story.”  And he starts this video and everyone (but me and my siblings) is on their feet yelling that “yea, that’s what they told me but that’s not what happened” and stuff like that.  It’s very noisy and the four of us are just sitting at the tables watching.

I’m sitting next to P, one of my brothers, and my sister B comes up to our table and crouches on the other side and says, very earnestly, “Here’s an idea, what if for EVERY PENNY you have you pay 10 cents in taxes?  Wouldn’t that help with the problem?”  And P and I look at each other and I ask B, well where would you get the 10 cents if you only had a penny?  And she gets very consternated  and says that after the meeting she’ll explain it better, and goes back to her table.  I look at P and wonder aloud if maybe she said it backward?  That for every 10 cents we pay 1 cent?  But that would just be a flat tax and that had already been discussed.  Meanwhile the participants are still yelling at the video of insurance companies.

I’m pondering B’s tax solution, trying to figure out what she was talking about when Katie the dog shakes her dog tags, a sign that it’s morning, and time to get up and go outside.

So….what did you dream about last night?


by 5 Comments

Of rocks and people

Kathy, over at her blog Lake Superior Spirit connected me to Suzi at her blog Laundry Line Divine, who was putting together a day of photographing rocks.  Yes.  rocks.  I immediately thought about all the wonderful rocks I photographed while I was in northern Michigan along the shores of a Great Lake.  You can see some of those photographs here. (Scroll down to the March 23rd entry to see an example.)

But I suppose that using photos from weeks or months ago would be cheating.  I think the whole point of this exercise is to head out and find something interesting that I might not have noticed before.  Or maybe noticed before but not in the same light.  Which brings me to the beginning of my search for rocks.

I was re digging the vegetable garden this morning and noticed the rocks I had used to mark beds last year.  But they weren’t very pretty, or even particularly interesting.

So after the garden was dug I wandered around the yard, considering how I wanted to approach this “rock assignment.”  We have rocks in our landscape out front.  Most were brought in, so I don’t consider them part of the natural way of things.  But one of them was from our own back yard, so it’s special.  I used to sit on it when it was in the backyard, I called it my “contemplative rock” and was sad when it got moved to be incorporated into the garden wall.  Though sometimes I still sit on it.

I felt like there must be other uses for rocks – other ways that people have incorporated rocks into their lives, so I set off on my bike to see what I could see; looking for the elusive rock that spoke to me.  Lots of people use rocks around here, often to mark their lot lines, to line the road or to present the entrance of their driveways.

Sometimes light on stone was interesting.

But still I was in suburbia, and what I really wanted was something more rural.  Say…a stone hedgerow in a farmer’s field.  I headed out on more rural roads, peddling away, up and down hills, through mud…and then I caught a glimpse of something way back off the road.

Venturing up the little used track…

… I found this…

…which I recognize is not a rock…but wait!  As I was wandering around taking pictures of this amazing structure I realized I was staring at the answer to my quest.  How the original farmer used rocks…and in a beautiful and functional way.  The foundation of this old barn was built from rocks, probably from the farmer’s own fields.

I never did find a fence row of rocks…but I’ll leave you with one photo of rocks that I love.  I’m cheating in that I took this last fall.  I can’t take credit for creating the rock sculpture, just for appreciating it.

Thanks for inviting me to play. It was interesting to think about the way people and rocks interrelate.  And I’ve learned to appreciate the rocks right here at home, while remembering my favorite rocks from far away.

PS:  This one is a cheater photo too..it’s from the Lighthouse at the tip of Leelanau Peninsula in northern Michigan.  Another bit of  evidence about man’s use of rocks throughout history.


by 7 Comments

The promised wood peony photos

I know I was going to show you this beautiful plant..then I got distracted with truck stuff.  So…on a lighter note, look at this!

Wait a minute!  That’s a picture of Katie!   “So Mom, aren’t I prettier than some old flowering shrub?”  Well, yes baby you are, but this post is supposed to be about the flower!

It’s about 3 feet tall, doesn’t get cut back like standard peonies, blooms earlier and is just stunning!  This is the first year I’ve had it, I bought it with a friend last fall and wasn’t sure it would survive the snow and then this spring the nibbling of our local deer…but apparently none of that bothered it!

I am so pleased I think I’ll go buy another one!  Now…back to our regularly scheduled Sheltie…


by 5 Comments

A new website for the Truck Safety Coalition

I was going to write today about my woody peony which is in bloom.  It’s beautiful, and this is the first spring I’ve had it.  But just moments ago I received an email from the Truck Safety Coalition that our new website is up.  So of course I went to see.

Click here to see it.

I got caught up in the memorial photographs.  Many of the more recent ones have little bios about the people that were killed.  If you have a strong heart go there and look.  The pictures are alphabetical and I only got as far as the C’s before I couldn’t see through the tears and had to stop.  Maybe we should revamp the new website again so that this list flips back and forth, sometimes A-Z, sometimes Z-A…because I don’t think anyone will be able to look at all of them, and those at the back of the alphabet deserve our attention as well.

You can also listen to a few stories, short video clips of some of us talking about our losses.  Tissues will be needed I’m afraid.
There’s a lot of  important information on the site, and if you ever have anyone you know that needs us, just let us know.  I hope you never do.

Dad’s last name was Badger, so I saw his picture among the memorials.  It’s hard to see it there, he just shouldn’t have had to die that way.

Thanks for all your support when I ramble like this.


by 7 Comments

Backyard goofing off

Katie’s dad built her a few jumps, and sometimes we take the chute and/or the tunnel out to play.  Last night, given the perfect weather, Katie and I couldn’t resist having a little agility fun in our own backyard.

Which way do I go Mom?

OK.  Let me get this straight.  You want me to run THROUGH this thing?

THIS thing?  For sure?  Run through it?  Right?

OK, I’m all ready!  Just say when Mom!

OH!  Through it?  Not around?  Are you SURE?

How about this tunnel Mom…I’m ready to go..

AUGH!!  I forget!  THROUGH it???


I’m confused Mom, you need to be more specific!

OK!  Now that you’ve explained it THAT way…..

Ahhhh…my little one…you always make me laugh.


by 8 Comments

Agility! and Rally too!

Guess what?  Katie had a full day of school yesterday.  After so many weeks off, her spring break I guess, we went to Rally class in the morning and Agility in the evening!  I really debated whether to enroll her in the Agility class because we were already committed to the Rally class on Thursdays.   But about an hour before the agility class I asked Katie, who was sprawled out sleeping near my feet, if she wanted to go back to school…and she jumped up, tongue rolling out and grinned at me, then ran for the door.  I took that as a “YES MAMA!!!”

In Rally I’m having trouble with her focus, and she’s surging ahead quite a bit.  So much to see, so many doggy butts to sniff.  I want to get those two more legs for our Rally Novice so I need to make sure we’re working on our heeling every day.  She’s much better when she and I are alone out in the driveway then when we’re in a ring with 8 or 9 or more other dogs, trotting around in a big circle.  But still.

As for Agility?  Well, she wasn’t sure what was up at first.  We are in the beginning agility class (the last one we took was like preschool, pre-agility!)  with about 9 other mostly really big dogs.  There are actually about 15 dogs in the class, but they broke it into two groups, those who had been through this class before, and those of us who had not.  Maybe eventually we’ll all be together, but I hope not, as that would be a BIG class!

We worked on jumps (no problem MOM!) and teeter (I HATE teeter MOM!) and tunnel (ZOOOOOM!!!) and A-frame (Again!  I want to do it AGAIN MOM!) and tire (BOOOOORING!).    We obviously need to keep working on that tiny teeter out in our driveway.  Though before our rally class in the morning she ran up the teeter all by herself, so it might have been more that she didn’t like the stranger hovering nearby then the teeter itself.  Who knows?

Last night she slept great.  No wonder!


by 7 Comments

Sleep apnea and truck drivers

I’ve been in Baltimore…did I forget to tell you?  There was a sleep apnea conference sponsored by the ATA (American Truck Association) and the FMCSA (Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration).  We at Truck Safety Coalition have improved our relationships with these two organizations enough to attend the opening reception…and to award a Safety Leadership award – our first ever – to a man who is in charge of safety at one of the country’s largest truck companies.

And as if it was meant to be, the man who has done the most to improve safety over the past six years is the man in charge of safety at the truck company that killed Dad.  The man who looked all of us kids in the eye years ago and promised he’d do something to make the roads safer.  And though there is still a long way to go, which he acknowledged, he has worked tirelessly to make a difference, all the while keeping Dad’s picture on his desk as a constant reminder.

I was able to say a few words about Dad and about Mr. Osterberg’s work, and to hand him the award on Tuesday night.  I truly believe that Dad would have approved of what Mr. Osterberg has done so far.  And that Dad would continue to push for more.  So we will too.

There were probably 200 people in the ballroom during the cocktail and finger food reception where we spoke.  I thought perhaps, since we were going last, that most would wander away after Anne Ferro, the FMCSA administrator made her welcoming speech.  But I didn’t notice anyone leaving.  And several people told me later that you could hear a pin drop while I was talking about Dad.  That makes me feel good.

I think we made some progress that night, in mending years of wary sparring between organizations.   Maybe now everyone will realize we aren’t anti-trucking.  We’re  for safe trucking.  It’s a common goal and we can waste less time and resources if we work toward it together.

Thanks Mr. Osterberg, for remembering Dad and for working so hard to “fix it.”  We’ll be watching for the next developments.


by 5 Comments

Mother's Day flowers

My Mom loved flowers – any kind of flowers – but mostly she liked wildflowers.  You know, the kind you’d find on the side of the road or in the woods, or peaking out from behind rocks in the mountains, leaning into the breeze on an ocean coastline.  The unexpected, the often missed, the little known.  The ones you just catch a glimpse of, that you have to buy a book from the local bookseller to identify. Though we usually bought her a flats of petunias for Mother’s Day, perhaps her favorite gifts would be the grubby handfuls of flowers we’d bring home from the woods where we played as kids.

I remembered memories of our tramps in the woods yesterday as I drove on our neighborhood country roads.  I passed a bunch of trillium in full bloom.  Mom especially enjoyed these flowers because they were (in those days) so rare.  Yesterday, thinking of her, I turned around and went back for a photo.

And I’ve also noticed that  the marsh marigolds are blooming along the swampy stream beds.  Once when I was a pre-teen I brought her a bucket or two filled with these plants, dug up from the bogs along the lake we lived on.  We planted them along our own shoreline, but I don’t remember whether or not they flourished there.  I do remember how happy I was dragging home the heavy, bog splattered buckets, my legs black with wet peat, arms aching, back straining, bringing them home to my Mom who was delighted, as always.

So this Mother’s Day morning Katie and I went out in search of a photo of a marsh marigold.  It was 36 degrees, but the sun was shining as I scrambled down a bank to a small but overflowing stream.  Mom would have loved it, there were golden flowers galore.  But a chickadee, a titmouse and a robin were very upset that I had invaded their own mother’s day celebrations, so I snapped my pictures as quickly as I could, then returned to Katie who was waiting in the car.

So Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.    I’d send a bucket of marsh marigolds to you, but FTD doesn’t deliver in heaven.


by 6 Comments

Springtime, breakfast on the deck, and an Anna Quindlen book review

We’re sitting on the deck, Katie and I, this lovely spring morning.  I’m rocking and eating my cereal, she’s lying at my feet.  I’ve brought a book out to read, Zada Smith’s White Teeth, but to be honest I’m still too emotionally engaged in the book I finished at 2 this morning  to begin another one so soon.  And this spring morning filled with the sound of newly minted birch leaves shaking in the breeze and rambunctious birds exploring the bird feeders has me mesmerized as well.

Katie and I have been sitting still for awhile, and multitudes of birds are at our feeders, just feet from us.  The titmice have found the new feeder, and being brave, are the first to explore the treats there.  A blue heron, the first I’ve seen this spring glides just overhead, a silent dinosaur of a bird.  I’m reminded that I saw our  resident green herons a couple of days ago, a sure sign that it’s spring.  Off in the distance I can hear a sandhill crane flying somewhere, and here in my own yard a song sparrow has been singing nonstop since before we sat down.  The neighbor’s rooster chimes in.

Last night I was reading Anna Quindlen’s   Every Last One.  It’s her latest novel, the story of a family with three teenage children, told by the mother.  From the front jacket flap I knew something terrible happens, and I read the first 100+ pages slowly, not wanting to get to the bad part.  But the author tells the story almost gently, letting the details seep in slowly over the course of the rest of the book, because knowing the reality in total would just be  too much to bear.  So much like real life, sometimes we have to dull the details until later when we’re strong enough to recognize them.

Once I was past the traumatic event (I won’t tell you what because you might want to read the book.) I couldn’t put the book down.  It’s been a long long time since I stayed up almost all night reading.  Probably not since before my parents died.  It’s like Quinland gets it, gets me, knows exactly the tiniest details about the inside of my brain and the thoughts that flash unexpectedly through my head at the strangest times, the memories that catch me by surprise, the instant shaft of pain that pierces at the oddest moment.

This morning as I watch and listen to the birds and the breeze in the tops of my trees I remember bits of the book, intermingled with bits of my own life.   Here’s the last little bit of the book, edited slightly so that you can’t tell exactly what happened, so as not to spoil it for anyone.

“How are you holding up?” my mother said the other day when she called to tell me about their Thanksgiving travel plans.

I’m trying,”  I replied.

“That’s good,” she said.  “That’s all anyone can ask.”


Exactly.