Last evening, while traveling with a grandson, we stopped at a McDonald's. Of course, he wanted a Happy Meal....you know, one of those package deals where you get a toy in addition to the burger and fries? It got me to thinking about a couple of times when I have gotten something in addition to my burger and fries.
In the position I held before I retired, I did a fair amount of traveling around a three county area. One day I had an early afternoon appointment a little over an hour away from my office. I arrived in the town enough ahead of the appointment to grab a quick lunch at the McDonald's.
I had no sooner settled in and begun eating when a gentleman dressed in slacks and a sport coat sat down at the table adjacent to mine. The table was positioned close enough that he could easily engage me in conversation. I immediately thought that in spite of his natty appearance, there was something a bit odd going on with him. His attempt at conversation confirmed my suspicions. He mentioned that he lived in a nearby hotel, and that he had an allotment he could spend each day on food. He detailed exactly what he had had to eat for his recent meals and the cost....to the penny...of each. That was the sum total of the conversation.
When I arrived at my appointment, which was with a man well-connected in that community, I mentioned the incident. He immediately knew to whom I had been talking. He explained that the man was a brilliant former college professor who had suffered an emotional breakdown. He was recently discharged from a psychiatric facility and, having nowhere to go, was placed in a hotel within walking distance of restaurants.
Some years earlier, my husband and I were in Seattle at a conference. We had a couple hours free between meetings and decided to drive around and get a feel for the city. We stopped at a McDonald's for a quick supper. As we ate, I noticed a man making his way around the restaurant and stopping to talk at every table. He was getting the brush-off from most of the patrons. I commented to my husband, something like, "Oh, dear....that man is pestering customers. He is probably mentally ill."
Eventually he worked his way to our table, paused, and with the sweetest smile, said to my husband, "Sir, may I compliment you on your taste in women?" My husband smiled and thanked him. I gave him an appreciative grin. As he walked away, my husband muttered in a chiding tone, but with a smirk, "And you said he was mentally ill."
So, I got something in addition to the burger and fries on those occasions. I'm not sure it could be called a "Happy Meal." Maybe, it was more like a "Bittersweet Meal." It included a shake of sadness and a dash of humor, and it was spread with a layer of the reality that we are often in close proximity to hurting people.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
I'm an Irritable Old Lady
I think I am becoming an irritable old lady. I am not having patience with people who don't see the big picture and who seem to value the concerns of an institution over those of the individuals they are supposed to serve. I know I should be kind and gracious, but I can't seem to repress my annoyance.
Yesterday I was tutoring a high school student. We were going to be done at noon. I did not know that someone had scheduled the room we were using for a meeting at noon, but even if I had, we would have been out by then. At 11:45 the individual arrived, entered without saying "I'm sorry to interrupt you" or introducing herself, and informed us that she needed the room for a meeting. I said that we were in a tutoring session. She did not ask when we would be done...just repeated she needed the room, and she had reserved it. The white board in the room had her meeting on it, but no time indicated. She persisted until we packed up and left. It seemed to me really rude to make us move with only 15 minutes left in our session. Today the student I tutored said, "Wasn't I 'in a meeting?' Why was her meeting more important than mine?"
Why, indeed? As an educational administrator, the meeting chair should realize the importance of helping students to value education. The tutoring session was as important as her meeting. It was not going to conflict time-wise with her meeting. She just seemed to want to assert her authority. I know I left the room with steam coming out of my ears.
Today, I placed a call to another educational institution. I was trying to get information on GED classes for a high school dropout who needs some encouragement to sign up. I already had all of the basic information from a prior phone call and exploration of the website. I tried to tell the person who answered the phone that I really only had one question, but she launched into her full spiel on the need to come to an orientation session first, blah-blah-blah. All I really wanted to know was if there were any classes available downtown, since the person in question lives near downtown and has no transportation. The GED site is outside of the city limits and the bus doesn't go out that far. She then went into a lengthy explanation of the process and that, perhaps, the student could do this by distance learning. I had already told her the person's age...20. I reminded her that the website said a person had to be 21 in order to take the course by distance learning.
I then had to ask multiple questions quite persistently before I finally learned that although that institution doesn't teach it, there is a GED class run by another organization that meets in the downtown library. By the time I finished this conversation, I was once again annoyed, and the person to whom I had been speaking was clearly upset with me too.
My husband just came upstairs from his den and showed me a letter he had written expressing his annoyance with a state agency that keeps sending letters threatening his deceased mother with fines for non-payment of something. He is enclosing a photocopy of the check which paid the original fee many months ago. He can't seem to get this straightened out, and it is upsetting to his still living 94 year old father who keeps getting these dunning letters. My husband said the world is filled with incompetence. He was feeling irritable.
Believe it or not....we both really do try to be nice to people.
Grumble, mutter, sigh. Are we just getting old and cranky?
Yesterday I was tutoring a high school student. We were going to be done at noon. I did not know that someone had scheduled the room we were using for a meeting at noon, but even if I had, we would have been out by then. At 11:45 the individual arrived, entered without saying "I'm sorry to interrupt you" or introducing herself, and informed us that she needed the room for a meeting. I said that we were in a tutoring session. She did not ask when we would be done...just repeated she needed the room, and she had reserved it. The white board in the room had her meeting on it, but no time indicated. She persisted until we packed up and left. It seemed to me really rude to make us move with only 15 minutes left in our session. Today the student I tutored said, "Wasn't I 'in a meeting?' Why was her meeting more important than mine?"
Why, indeed? As an educational administrator, the meeting chair should realize the importance of helping students to value education. The tutoring session was as important as her meeting. It was not going to conflict time-wise with her meeting. She just seemed to want to assert her authority. I know I left the room with steam coming out of my ears.
Today, I placed a call to another educational institution. I was trying to get information on GED classes for a high school dropout who needs some encouragement to sign up. I already had all of the basic information from a prior phone call and exploration of the website. I tried to tell the person who answered the phone that I really only had one question, but she launched into her full spiel on the need to come to an orientation session first, blah-blah-blah. All I really wanted to know was if there were any classes available downtown, since the person in question lives near downtown and has no transportation. The GED site is outside of the city limits and the bus doesn't go out that far. She then went into a lengthy explanation of the process and that, perhaps, the student could do this by distance learning. I had already told her the person's age...20. I reminded her that the website said a person had to be 21 in order to take the course by distance learning.
I then had to ask multiple questions quite persistently before I finally learned that although that institution doesn't teach it, there is a GED class run by another organization that meets in the downtown library. By the time I finished this conversation, I was once again annoyed, and the person to whom I had been speaking was clearly upset with me too.
My husband just came upstairs from his den and showed me a letter he had written expressing his annoyance with a state agency that keeps sending letters threatening his deceased mother with fines for non-payment of something. He is enclosing a photocopy of the check which paid the original fee many months ago. He can't seem to get this straightened out, and it is upsetting to his still living 94 year old father who keeps getting these dunning letters. My husband said the world is filled with incompetence. He was feeling irritable.
Believe it or not....we both really do try to be nice to people.
Grumble, mutter, sigh. Are we just getting old and cranky?
Friday, January 6, 2012
Double Date
I didn't date a lot when I was a teen and young adult. When I met my husband I could count my prior dates on one hand. So, I didn't double date much then, and I certainly never expected to double date with a grandson.
Our 16 year old grandson is currently living with us. He recently met a girl at his high school. After spending quite a bit of time talking and "hanging out," they decided that they wanted to be "in a relationship." I think that's one of the ways young people refer to the arrangement. He was anxious for us to meet her. We had intended to go skating with them this evening, but the ice arena was closed to public skating, because of a hockey tournament. We ended up at Friendly's for ice cream and get-acquainted conversation.
How strange....I have never heard of grandparents double dating with a grandson and his girlfriend. Don't get me wrong here....I am certainly glad that he wanted us to meet her, and we were happy to do so. I'm just feeling a bit amused.
Our 16 year old grandson is currently living with us. He recently met a girl at his high school. After spending quite a bit of time talking and "hanging out," they decided that they wanted to be "in a relationship." I think that's one of the ways young people refer to the arrangement. He was anxious for us to meet her. We had intended to go skating with them this evening, but the ice arena was closed to public skating, because of a hockey tournament. We ended up at Friendly's for ice cream and get-acquainted conversation.
How strange....I have never heard of grandparents double dating with a grandson and his girlfriend. Don't get me wrong here....I am certainly glad that he wanted us to meet her, and we were happy to do so. I'm just feeling a bit amused.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Right of Way
One of my pet peeves encountered in driving is the situation where someone wants to give me the right of way, when it isn't really mine. I see three difficulties with this. First, the person trying to force me into taking the right of way may not see the whole picture. Second, if an accident resulted, it would be my fault, not the fault of the person trying to be "polite." Lastly, the person trying to be considerate of me, may not realize he is being inconsiderate of vehicles behind him.
Today I approached an intersection and stopped for a red light. I had my turn signal on, because I was planning to make a left turn. When the light turned green, a car coming straight through from the other direction tried to wave me in front of him. I shook my head 'no,' so he tried to wave me on again. I pointed at the street I planned to turn into. An elderly woman was crossing, and I preferred not to run her down. He didn't understand that I was trying to get him to look in that direction, and with an exasperated expression and shrug, finally came through the intersection. He probably muttered for the next block about my lack of gratitude. I muttered for the next several blocks about what would have happened if I had just swung into that left turn based on his go-ahead.
So, don't do me any "favors" when I am behind the wheel. If the right of way is mine, I expect to get it. If the right of way is yours, please, take it.
There are some analogies to life in general here, but I will let you make them on your own.
Today I approached an intersection and stopped for a red light. I had my turn signal on, because I was planning to make a left turn. When the light turned green, a car coming straight through from the other direction tried to wave me in front of him. I shook my head 'no,' so he tried to wave me on again. I pointed at the street I planned to turn into. An elderly woman was crossing, and I preferred not to run her down. He didn't understand that I was trying to get him to look in that direction, and with an exasperated expression and shrug, finally came through the intersection. He probably muttered for the next block about my lack of gratitude. I muttered for the next several blocks about what would have happened if I had just swung into that left turn based on his go-ahead.
So, don't do me any "favors" when I am behind the wheel. If the right of way is mine, I expect to get it. If the right of way is yours, please, take it.
There are some analogies to life in general here, but I will let you make them on your own.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Rocks from the Riverbed
“When the whole nation had finished crossing the Jordan, the Lord said to Joshua, ‘Choose twelve men from among the people…and tell them to take up twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan…and put them at the place where you stay tonight.’ So Joshua called together the twelve men he had appointed… and said to them, ‘Each of you is to take up a stone…to serve as a sign among you. In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord…these stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.’” Joshua 4:1-7
From the riverbed of my life,
I will pluck stones,
A stone of gratitude for my very existence,
A stone for His redeeming love,
A stone representing His guiding hand,
A stone for his sustaining grace.
A stone for comfort in sadness,
A stone for times of great joy,
A stone for all of His good gifts,
A stone because He himself is The Rock.
When my family gathers next time, they may find a pile of rocks as a centerpiece in the middle of the dining room table. There may be some whispering to each other as they try to determine if Mom has finally lost her marbles or become as dumb as a box of rocks.
But surely one of the little ones will say, “Uhhh….Grandma….what is that pile of rocks doing on your table!?”
And I will talk to them about Joshua and the twelve men and say, “These are rocks from the riverbed of my life. They represent the times when God held back the flood of danger or evil which could have swept me away. I want you to know that He is the Rock on which I stand.”
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Looking Across
Friday evening, I drove from western New York back to northern New York on I-90 (the Thruway) and I-81. As I left the Buffalo area, I drove on a stretch of I-90 which parallels Genesee St. and is close enough that traffic on I-90 can be seen from Genesee and vice versa.
As I looked across to Genesee St., I also looked across six decades of my lifetime. I could see a car in the 1950s traveling away from Buffalo. I had been in the city visiting grandparents and was riding in the back seat of my parents car on the way home to Town Line Rd. which divides Lancaster and Alden. I peered out the side window of the car at the lights of the vehicles on the Thruway. Who are those people? Where are they going? What are their lives like? Will I be traveling there someday?
A few miles further on I-90, and I could see ponds. When I was a child there were gravel pits in that area. My parents would take us swimming in the gravel pits on hot days after my Dad got home from work. I could sit at the water's edge and hear the sounds of the traffic whizzing by on I-90. People about whom I knew nothing passed in proximity.
I did not know that the 66 year old me would be traveling that highway having been to western New York to work on settling my uncle's estate. I did not know that he would be the last in his generation to depart, leaving me as the oldest member of my family of origin. I did not know any of the joys and sorrows that I would experience in those intervening years. I did not know enough to be either excited or fearful. So much, both good and bad, was beyond my view and beyond my ability to even imagine.
About half-way between 6 and 66, I wrote the following:
I ponder the "what ifs" of my life,
The wide range of possibilities,
A broad spectrum
From disaster
To spectacular.
I recount the "supposes" of my life,
The infinite complexities,
Puzzle pieces,
Some dovetailing,
Other in hopeless tangle.
I indulge in a dream of "if onlys,"
Those happy coincidences
That propel one,
Soaring upward,
To grand success.
I shudder at life's "near misses,"
Those frightening times
When something unspeakable
Was inches
Or seconds away.
I bow in gratitude to Him,
Whose all-powerful hand
Has in the maze
Pointed and pushed
And protected.
I cannot see tomorrow. I do not know if I have decades left. I do not know if I will travel a road parallel to the one I am currently traveling. But, I continue to trust in the powerful hand to point, push and protect.
As I looked across to Genesee St., I also looked across six decades of my lifetime. I could see a car in the 1950s traveling away from Buffalo. I had been in the city visiting grandparents and was riding in the back seat of my parents car on the way home to Town Line Rd. which divides Lancaster and Alden. I peered out the side window of the car at the lights of the vehicles on the Thruway. Who are those people? Where are they going? What are their lives like? Will I be traveling there someday?
A few miles further on I-90, and I could see ponds. When I was a child there were gravel pits in that area. My parents would take us swimming in the gravel pits on hot days after my Dad got home from work. I could sit at the water's edge and hear the sounds of the traffic whizzing by on I-90. People about whom I knew nothing passed in proximity.
I did not know that the 66 year old me would be traveling that highway having been to western New York to work on settling my uncle's estate. I did not know that he would be the last in his generation to depart, leaving me as the oldest member of my family of origin. I did not know any of the joys and sorrows that I would experience in those intervening years. I did not know enough to be either excited or fearful. So much, both good and bad, was beyond my view and beyond my ability to even imagine.
About half-way between 6 and 66, I wrote the following:
I ponder the "what ifs" of my life,
The wide range of possibilities,
A broad spectrum
From disaster
To spectacular.
I recount the "supposes" of my life,
The infinite complexities,
Puzzle pieces,
Some dovetailing,
Other in hopeless tangle.
I indulge in a dream of "if onlys,"
Those happy coincidences
That propel one,
Soaring upward,
To grand success.
I shudder at life's "near misses,"
Those frightening times
When something unspeakable
Was inches
Or seconds away.
I bow in gratitude to Him,
Whose all-powerful hand
Has in the maze
Pointed and pushed
And protected.
I cannot see tomorrow. I do not know if I have decades left. I do not know if I will travel a road parallel to the one I am currently traveling. But, I continue to trust in the powerful hand to point, push and protect.
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