Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.


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Parenting

I know I’ve talked about this before.  And I know, not having kids, that I’m totally unqualified to speak about it.  But what’s with parents providing daily, sometimes hourly advice and direction to their kids these days?  I sit in a cubicle and am surrounded by parents.  Most of them are parents of adult children, children who are off at college or working jobs and living in their own homes.  Yet they seem to need to talk to Mom daily.

About every single little thing.

And Mom seems to be the one that orchestrates all decisions, events, discussions and sometimes even meals.  Really?  These kids can’t decide whether to sell their college books when the news semester starts without discussing it with Mom?  They can’t go into their wireless carrier and straighten out a bill without having their Mom call?  They need daily prompting from Mom to take stuff out of the freezer for dinner, or to arrange a time when everyone can get together for a holiday meal?  They need Mom to negotiate between squabbling siblings?

Huh.  I don’t remember ever doing any of that.

When I was in college we only got to call home once a week for a few minutes.  And we’d never have called during the day because daytime long distance rates were off the charts.   And no way would we have called a parent at work.  Ever.  For anything.

So as I watched the news last week about the hedge fund manager allegedly shot and killed by his 30 something son because he was contemplating lowering the son’s allowance and was going to stop paying the son’s rent I have to ask the question.  How much accountability and responsibility is being given to these adult children?  And are parents doing the kids or themselves any favors by being so involved in every single aspect of their children’s lives?

When do their kids get to be the adults?

On the other hand Wednesday of last week I also stopped by a funeral home to pay my family’s respect to the mother of a friend.  She died right after the New Year, and was only ill a couple of months.  You could see the adult children struggling to accept their loss.  It’s a lot, the loss of a mother, for anyone no matter their own age.  And as I was driving back to work that afternoon I thought about it all.  The helicopter parents.  The adult children relying so much on their parents for daily decisions in these times.  The way things are  so different now than when I was a young adult testing the waters of life.  Life without parents.

And I knew for sure that there was at least one set of siblings that would give a lot for a little helicoptering right now from a mom that has moved on to her next adventure.  Shoot, if I could I’d call my mom right now and ask her how long it took her to grieve her own mother.  And the recipe for that broccoli rice casserole.

I turned out to be who I am because of the way they raised me.  They weren’t helicopter parents, but that wasn’t the style in those days.  Maybe if I had been born at the end of the last century instead of the middle they would have been coptering around me and my three siblings.  Somehow I don’t think so.  That doesn’t mean they didn’t love us, it just means they came from stock where you let the kids make their own decisions, good and bad.  As long as we didn’t kill anyone in the course of growing up we were allowed to learn our own lessons.

Parents have lots of ways of showing love.  Maybe parents of today just show it in a myriad of tiny minute decisions and shows of support.  Maybe that’s not all bad.  Maybe having a parent that cares is all that matters.  Maybe kids will grow up when they have to, helicopter parents or not.

In the end who am I to judge parenting skills.  Maybe I’m just feeling envious when I hear all those phone conversations between adult kids and their moms.

Maybe a little helicoptering would be welcome in my world about now.

Maybe I just miss my mom.

Yea, that’s probably it.

I miss my mom.

 

 


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Holiday musings

Warm Christmas wishes to you!

Warm holiday wishes to you!

It seems as though I should be writing a holiday post.  I feel this odd responsibility to comment on what for most is the biggest holiday of the year.  To talk about the shopping and the cooking and the traveling and the family and, maybe most of all, the memories.

Yet I feel very still inside.  Quiet.

And though during this past holiday week bits of blogs have floated through my head, equivalent to sugar plums of old I suppose, nothing has demanded to be committed to digital paper.   Nothing has caused me to stop what I was doing and rush to the computer to get it down, to edit, find the right words, rethink the meaning, tell the story.  Oh I’ve done plenty of reading; lots of other blogs and articles about the meaning of Christmas.  I’ve gone down plenty of other people’s holiday lanes and connected with their memories which are so much like my own.

Christmas Eve I watched Andy Williams and his three brothers in a compilation of his Christmas shows on PBS and smiled a lot.  OK.  I’m old, but watching the 4 brothers sing in their outlandishly awful color coordinated outfits just made my evening.  And cooking dinner with my Aunt on Christmas Day was pretty special too.  But it was an uncharacteristically quiet holiday.

Which is not a bad thing.

I’ll leave you with one memory that might get you thinking.  I saw this idea on a Christmas special that one of the local networks did.  They were interviewing their cast and each was asked if they could go back to one specific Christmas – – which one would it be?  Think about that.  Can you pick just one?

Mine would be the Christmas of 1964.  I was eight, my brothers and sister younger and we were all upstairs that Christmas Eve having our baths before bed.   Of course we were anxiously waiting for Santa to arrive with presents, but some of us weren’t quite sure we believed.  We had hung little metal bells all along the lower branches of the Christmas tree so that we’d hear him putting packages under the tree.   If he was real.   I’m quite sure Mom and Dad were upstairs with us as well when we heard the faint tinkle of a bell downstairs.  Our eyes got big.  We wanted to run down the stairs in our footed pajamas to catch Santa in the act.  Then again, we knew if we did that he’d never visit us again.  So we didn’t.  We stayed upstairs and climbed into our warm beds and smiled from ear to ear.  Because that year we knew that Santa was very real.

That’s my special Christmas memory.  Special because we were all young and innocent, even Mom and Dad; we were warm and happy and excited and most importantly, we were all together. What’s your special Christmas memory?  I’d like to hear about it.  Sharing makes the memories permanent, and all good memories deserve to be shared.

I hope all of you had the perfect holiday, whatever that means to you and your family.  And I wish for you an extraordinary 2015.

Happy New Year!

The only snow we have is fake!

The only snow we have is fake!


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Sunday afternoon surprise adventure

Katie here!  Hey, bet you didn’t expect to hear from me again so soon!  My mama doesn’t let me have her blog very often you know, but since it’s Christmas and all I guess she’s feeling generous.  Or she doesn’t have anything to say.  Either way it works for me!

In the Arboretum.

In the Arboretum.

So she was lying around the house all weekend.  I was plenty bored but after awhile I just gave up and went off to sleep in my secret places.  But then she turned off the TV and said: “Katie-girl!  Where are you?”  And of course I came running because whenever my mama calls me I get right to her as fast as I can in case she’s handing out treats and such.  Well this time she was still on the sofa and she asked me if I’d like to go for a ride with her.  A ride!  Well OF COURSE MAMA!   I jumped right on top of her and licked her in the face and then I barked and barked and barked and then I jumped off of her and ran to the door and I barked and barked and barked and then I ran around the sofa a bunch, and then around her feet while she was trying to walk and I kept barking.

I guess you get the picture.

 

Grandpa & Grandma's rock

Grandpa & Grandma’s rock

So anyway, my mama took me down to see her Mom and Dad’s rock on the banks of the Huron River.  She’s been missing them lately, what with all the family movies and advertisements and stuff on TV, so she took me for a visit.

I never got to meet them.

I never got to meet them.

I wasn’t the least bit interested in the river or the ducks that she said were “right there baby!”

Ducks are boring!

Ducks are boring!

I was much more interested in the other people and their dogs.   We only stayed at the rock for a moment or two and then we went walking in the hills.  It sure was pretty back there.  I guess they got a little snow, but mostly it was just wet leaves.

A little bit of snow.

A little bit of snow.

As we were climbing up and down the hills my mama kept saying “Easy, easy girl” so I wouldn’t pull her and her camera down into the mud.  Silly mama.  Like I’d ever do that.  When I didn’t have her hanging on to me I was as nimble as a mountain goat!

Running down a hill.

Running down a hill.

We had a really good time.  We talked to a couple of people who were out walking their dogs.  One lady in particular had a dog named Gus and we walked with them for awhile.  The lady was talking to mama about camping with Gus.  Mama wishes she had gotten the lady’s name, she says she thinks we could have had a good time going on walks with them again.

Lots of good sniffing!

Lots of good sniffing!

I slept all the way home, but don’t tell my mama that.  I like her to think I’m always vigilant.

Don’t you know.

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We are here, we are here, we are HERE!

Revision note 12/10, 5:30 a.m.:  Sadly Congress passed the Appropriations Bill last night while I slept.  Complete with Senator Collins’ language to roll back truck safety.  Read below and you’ll understand some of what the American people lost.  It’s devastating.

How many of you remember the story by Dr. Seuss titled Horton Hears a Who?  It’s the story of a whole world of people living on a spec of dust who must make a glorious and loud noise to prove their existence.  That’s how I feel right now as those of us associated by tragedy to the Truck Safety Coalition fight to remove an amendment to the Appropriations Bill that will increase the allowable hours a professional driver can drive each week from 70 to 82 hours.  The Appropriations Bill has to come up for a vote in the next couple of days and if the language is still included when that happens much of the work we’ve done over the past several years to require professional drivers to get adequate rest will be lost.

We are desperately trying to make enough noise to be heard.

I’ll try to keep this brief as I know during the holidays no one wants to spend a lot of time reading and thinking about things as serious as death and injury.  As wrenching as grief.  And most of your know my family’s story; dad was killed by a tired trucker on December 23, 2004.  In two weeks it will be ten years.  For nine of those years we’ve been fighting the battle, trying to get a safer Hours of Service Rule issued by the Department of Transportation.  Finally, last year the new rule was mandated. It wasn’t everything we wanted. We wanted the maximum daily number of hours that a driver could drive to be reduced from 11 back to 10, and we lost that fight. But at least the new rule required drivers who had maxed out their weekly allowable hours of work to rest for two consecutive nights.  The two nights of rest piece wasn’t just pulled out of a hat.  There’s all sorts of scientific evidence that the human body needs certain kinds of rest in order to be fully functional, and two nights in a row helps to maintain the body’s rhythm.

As soon as the rule came out the American Trucking Associations attacked.  And they helped Senator Collins from Maine to write the Collins amendment which would repeal this mandated two nights of rest.   It’s basically the only step forward we’ve made in years of fighting, and this amendment would put us back to square one.  It allows shippers and supervisors to once again push a driver to work up to 82 hours every week.  That’s twice as many hours as you and I, or most Americans, work.  And truck drivers don’t get paid overtime.

A recent poll showed that the majority of the American public is  opposed to increasing truck driver hours.  They know about the dangers of fatigued driving.  The opposition to the legislative efforts to increase the allowable hours is across all demographic and political groups.  If the majority of people oppose increased driving hours, then why is Congress so set on letting the two nights of rest be repealed?

Because the ATA financially supports their political campaigns.

And that’s why we absolutely need to make a louder noise.  Right now.  We need every Senator contacted tomorrow and again the next day if the vote on the Appropriations Bill hasn’t occurred.   We need every Senator to know that we oppose the Collins Amendment being included in the bill.  The Collins Amendment has nothing to do with appropriations and it has never been debated on the Senate floor.  It was worked out in a closed door committee meeting and slipped into the bill as if it was a done deal.

Well it’s not done.  Not yet anyway.

Please call your two Senators.  Tell them you are against the Collins Amendment being in the bill.  Tell them you want our roads to be safer and you expect them to stand up for safety rather than  cave to expensive truck lobbyists who’s agenda is profit over safety.  You can find your Senator’s phone #’s here.     And if you’d like to read more, go to the Truck Safety Coalition website, or directly to a letter from two Senators who oppose the amendment.  If you’d like to know more about Senator Collin’s motivation, read Joan Claybrook’s statement.  

Please help.

This didn’t turn out to be the short, poetic heart-tugging blog I intended.  But it’s so important and there’s no short way to explain what’s happening in Washington DC right this very moment.  I can’t explain the politics of it any more than I can fully explain the grief of losing a family member suddenly, tragically, needlessly.

Please don’t think of this as my issue, my problem.  The safety of our roads is everyone’s issue, everyone’s problem.  It’s only by all of us banding together and making that glorious, loud noise that we will be noticed.  Please help me make that noise.  Make that noise as early as you can tomorrow.  The Senate offices open at 9 a.m.  Let’s make those phone lines sing.  You can call later in the day too.  Just please call.

The roads don’t belong to the ATA.  They belong to all of us.  And we deserve to garner as much attention as a paid lobbyist.  We deserve to get more attention.  We’re the ones that voted these Senators into their offices and they should be paying attention to us. We are here.  We are here.  We are HERE!    Say it with me now.   WE ARE HERE!   And Senator Collins – we are not going away.

Thank you for your support. I miss you Dad. Braun and Badger 107


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WordPress photo challenge: Converge

Converge – where different things come together and this week’s photo challenge.  I was visiting my brother’s home during the Thanksgiving weekend and climbed up into his loft.

Imported Photos 00115

And there I saw the convergence of inside and outside, light and dark in the angled windows of his home on the lake.

You can see other version of converge at the original link.  Or see a few of my favorites here, here and here.

 

What do you see converging around you?  Share with us…you have an entire week to find something perfect.


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What we leave behind

Braun and Badger 052I’m getting ready for a road trip, my favorite kind of travel; a little random, sometimes spontaneous, always interesting.  Freeing.  But as I’m packing the last bits of things into the suitcase I look around.  Is the house clean?  Is the bed made.  Are things put away?

Do you do that?  Check out the house before you walk out the door?  I do.  Every single time.  Whether I’m headed for work, a week long trip, or just running to the grocery store.  Because you never know if you’re coming back.  You never know if someone else will be walking into your home after you’re gone and you wouldn’t want the house to be a mess.

I’ve been this way for ten years.  Ever since the summer of 2004 when my mom went off to church and didn’t come home, and then dad went to the airport for a holiday visit and didn’t come home either.  Neither of them knew they were leaving home for the last time.  I often picture mom picking up her purse, climbing into the car and driving off to town.  I picture dad tossing his luggage in the trunk and heading out into the dark morning.  I imagine they checked a few things, mom making sure she had her reading glasses because she played the organ at church, dad making sure the thermostat was turned down because he’d be away a week.

Neither of them could possibly imagine that their children would walk back into that house in tears and without them.  But I can image it.  I know what it’s like to walk into a place that was once someone’s home and is now just the keeper of the memories and the stuff belonging to people we loved.  So before I head off on the next adventure I take a quick look around.

Just in case.

Because you never know.

 

Braun and Badger 019


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Letter to Mom

Hey Mom,

Sunset at the lake

Sunset at the lake

We’ve been thinking about you as all your kids gather in the house you and Dad built on the lake.  I’m sure you two were here too, laughing over the silly stuff, bobbing out at the end of the dock, your toes pointed to the sky, maybe even jumping from the dock for the traditional family photo, though I know you didn’t like to get water in your eyes.

Hey Mom

Hey Mom

Last night we went out to the big water to watch the sun set.  I know you and Dad liked to do that and the neighbors say he went out alone just about every evening that summer after you died.

Heading home

Heading home

It sure was great out on the warm water with the crescent moon hanging overhead.  The sunset didn’t pan out all that well; we only had one pink cloud, but we had a really nice time anyway.

Of course I’m sure you already know that.

Wish you and Dad were here.

Jump!

Jump!


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Spend a relaxing weekend

On the lake.

On the lake.

Doesn’t it seem like people are stressed more than ever lately?  Frightening sights from all over the world flow into our nightly news every evening.  The economy continues to wallow and we all work harder than ever trying to get by, trying to make a difference, trying our best.

So I appreciate a lovely long weekend filled with nothing but good food and good company.  Here in the United States it’s Labor Day Weekend, when we  celebrate the labor of so many generations before and appreciate those people that worked so hard to build the country we are lucky enough to inhabit today.  It’s a time for family barbecue, camping in the woods, bonfires, boat rides, long walks, and naps.

I’m spending this holiday weekend on a lovely lake in the South where the weather has cooperated and the waters are warm, where the skies fill each afternoon with towering clouds but only a little bit of rain falls.

When I head back to work next week I’ll keep the memories of boat rides and deck sitting and bobbing in warm waters tucked safely away in the back of my mind.  And when that customer demands immediate attention or the coworker calls in sick I’ll pull those memories out and smile again.

We hope all of you are having a lovely weekend as well.  May we all relax and then start again next week with high spirits and wonderful memories.

Imported Photos 00038


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1500

I’ve been blogging a long time.  Since September 2006.  Some of you have actually read every entry, maybe even commented on most of them.  Thank you for that, thank you if you’ve just read some of them.

The blog began when I quit my job and went back to school at age 50, working on a masters degree in Information Sciences, what used to be Library Science.  I met a young man named Spike during my first semester.  He was into technology and was putting together a host server.  He asked me if I wanted to blog.  I didn’t know what a blog was, but I like to write and I liked the idea of having a place to publish some thoughts.  So he set me up.

It was kind of interesting and definitely fun to be back in school at my age with a bunch of 20 somethings.  I felt both younger than my age and older, depending on the moment.  I’d often forget I was so much older during discussions, but then someone would say something or do something and I’d realize I was old enough to be their parent.  Perhaps their grandparent.  In group projects I felt like their mother.  I lent money to them to get home during stormy nights.  I brought cake to the class with the snack break.  I reminded them repeatedly that this or that assignment was not the end of the world, that there were bigger issues in real life.  I told them often to enjoy the freedom that being in school affords.  I luxuriated in that freedom myself, loving the public bus rides, the walks between classes, the work in public libraries where stories were always presenting themselves.

I especially like being in school at the university that both parents attended, graduated from, with most of my classes in the building my dad studied chemistry more than a half century previously.   I liked walking the stairs he climbed.  I said hello to them as I passed the house he grew up in.  I thought about them when I wandered near the river.

So I wrote about school, and life, and my folks.  And when I graduated in 2008 I wondered if maybe I should just close the blog down.  After all, I was no longer an interesting student.  I was back in real life and it wasn’t all that exciting.  But I still liked to write, and I had a few readers, and while I tried to figure out what the blog was, it was still a place for me to put thoughts.  To get support on life’s challenges.  To offer my own support to others.  To explore ideas.  To play with the dog.  To express sadness and joy sometimes in the same post.

1500 posts later I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  And whether or not I will ever make a difference.  And if any of it matters.  Social media has changed.  Now there’s Facebook and twitter and a whole lot more that I don’t even know about.  And going into the future I suppose blogging will become even more old fashioned.   On the other hand blogging allows people to express complex, more complete thoughts than Facebook or twitter.  It slows people down for a bit longer, makes them think a bit more.  It can be elegant.  And thoughtful.

Or not.

So I’ve rambled enough.  This post was supposed to be something significant, and here it is all nostalgic about my student life.   But that was significant.  And I’m glad I did it even though I didn’t get to work full time at a public library.    I’m glad I did it for lots of reasons…

…one of which is because it led me to all of you.

 


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We need your help NOW. Please. For safety.

For those of you wanting to help make our highways safer, the time is now! 

We have learned that the THUD bill in the Senate (THUD stands for Transportation Housing Urban Development) will go to the floor for a vote Tuesday.  Between now and Tuesday we need to make a lot of noise.  We need to get their attention.  We need you to contact your two Senators, (you can find the names and contact information for them here) at their Washington office.  There are two amendments that we need to push back for safety’s sake.

The first is the Collins amendment that would roll back the required restart rest periods for drivers.   I talked about this in a previous post.  This restart rest period happens when a driver gets to 70 hours in 8 days or 60 hours in 7 days.  The rest period mandates 34 hours off and  has to include two consecutive early morning periods between 1 and 5 a.m.  That’s the part that the Collins amendment wants to withdraw and ‘study’ though there were a great number of studies done before the rule was instituted last summer.

Tell your Senator’s office that  you don’t want tired truckers on the roads you share.  Tell them 4000 people die and 100,000 are injured every year in crashes with commercial trucks.  Tell them you’ve heard and seen too many stories about people stopped in traffic who were run over because the truck drivers were too tired to notice what was in front of them.  Tell them you have a friend whose father was killed in just that way.  Tell them they should leave the rule alone for the safety of all of us, including the truck drivers.  Tell them to oppose the Collins amendment.

We also know that an amendment will be introduced that is similar to the Daines amendment that narrowly passed in the House last week.  We don’t know yet who will introduce the amendment Monday but it will be trying to block any increase in the minimum insurance coverage required on truck carriers.

Remind your Senators that minimum levels of insurance for trucks is currently at $750,000 and has not been increased in over 30 years.  Remind them that families who suffer terrible losses and injuries should not have to carry the financial burden of these crashes.  Tragic crashes with multiple injuries and deaths happen every week and  the truck company’s liability insurance has to cover everyone that was injured; in multiple injury crashes all the families have to share the insurance carried.   $750,000 is not enough to cover the medical bills for even one person’s traumatic injuries.  If the truck company can not afford insurance to cover their very real risk and responsibilities, then they can not afford to be in the business.  Please ask your Senators to oppose any amendment that blocks any increase in minimum insurance requirement.

I know if you’re not actively involved in politics, and goodness knows I never was before all this, that it can be intimidating to contact a Senator’s office.  You see them on TV.  They often look imposing.  You’re not sure you understand the issue fully.  You’re afraid of being confronted.  Relax.  There are very nice people that answer the phone, and they want to hear what the people in their districts think about issues.    Ask to speak to their Transportation Expert.  You might get him or her, or you might end up in voice mail.  Either way, express your opposition to these amendments to the THUD bill.  If you have to leave that message with the initial person who answered the phone that’s OK too, that’s what they’re there for.  It’s just important that your opinion is heard.  If you are planning on writing your Senator about this issue, please do so today or early Monday so there is time for the office to gather the information.  If you’re calling, please do so Monday so that the Senator has time to receive your opinion before the vote on Tuesday.   All Senators provide phone numbers for their Washington office and their district office as well as an email contact in their webpages, and you’ll find their webpages at the link at the very beginning of this post.

I find it ironic that I’m desperately asking for help on Father’s Day, a day I’m trying to ignore.  But I remind myself that Dad would be the first in line to voice his opposition to these amendments if he could.  As would so many others taken too soon by a tired trucker.  They don’t have a voice except through us.  Every single family that has been through this wants to make a difference.  But we can’t do it alone.  We need all of you.

This is how I choose to celebrate and honor my Dad on Father’s Day.

I hope you join me.

 

Happy Father's Dad Daddy.

Happy Father’s Dad Daddy.