She walked into the retail establishment, gruff and impatient.  She needed refill-ink for her self-inking “stamp.”  Instead, we determined she needed two new stamps.  Once the order was recorded, I needed contact information, including her name.  Imagine her surprise, when I asked about her boys, and the babysitter who used to take care of them, and the babysitter’s mother?  I had not seen this woman in front of me (or her boys) in about 40 years. Beth (the Babysitter) for about 20 and her mother, Betty Jean?  I can’t remember how long ago it was…But I wondered about them OFTEN…

Well, that encounter in the store prompted me to act upon her answers to my questions:  Where are they now…the boys?  The Babysitter?  Her Mom?  Are they still up to camp?  Where are they living when NOT at camp?

Yesterday I took the drive around the lake, and tried to find the camp I have visited a very few times ever (and over 20 years ago).  No…I didn’t find it yesterday….but I found it today.  And there were people there…they had JUST gotten there.  Two cars in the driveway, and they had just gotten out of the cars….

I think back often, and with the greatest of love and affection, to those teen years…when I was 12.  I wanted to be 14…like Beth.  We both were “nail-biters” and it was a bet with her that helped me lose that nasty habit…I think I won.  When I was 17, I had the opportunity to travel with Beth…all over the sate of Maine…as we visited most of the 40+ Rainbow Girls’ Assembly Meetings…Ellsworth, Guilford, Arundel, Berwick, York, Old Orchard…and our Home Assembly in Portland.  We talked a lot…sang…laughed even more.  I was often mistaken for her mother’s daughter, so I called her mother, Mom, and her shy father, Dad and yes, Beth was “Sis”.  I stayed over at her house a few times…went to soccer games at Deering High School, where their exchange student from Sweden played and Beth was in High School…even spent time up to camp…either sleeping on the porch or baking in the sun.

We all have them, don’t we?  Those people who are OUR examples?  As a teenager, she was mine.  She had a way of including everyone.  Putting them at ease.  A ready smile and a twinkle in her eye…and didn’t I love to hear her laugh…She had a way about her and I wanted to be just like her…

Years have passed.  Her dad passed away when she was in college.  My mom and dad have both since passed…I remember bringing my babies up to the camp (both stayed sleeping in the van) while I visited for a while…but not since…about 20 years have passed…

Funny thing about the passing of time.  Except for the “sometimes-pain” getting out of bed in the mornings, we don’t feel any older on the inside.  We don’t THINK of ourselves as older, and rarely do we notice what age (and gravity) has done to our bodies…Our kids are older…young men now…but we still see them as our “kids”.   Both of my parents are gone and Beth’s dad is gone, but her mom is 95.  And in total sincerity I can say that the years and gravity have been kind to her mother.

As I got out of my car, still remembering my friends and those magical years (I took for granted), Beth recognized me…Her mom, already inside, (still no glasses for her) recognized me, and I met Beth’s oldest man-child…who…the last time I saw him was riding his tricycle precariously on the edge of the porch, at this camp.

Betty Jean came out to say hi, and then continued with her work.  At 95 years old she was lugging half-bags of potting soil, pushing a wheelbarrow, and loading the car…she then proceeded to drive to the dump, unload and drive back, “I have two more loads to go.”  Of note (in addition to being 95 years old), I hadn’t seen these women in over 20 years…and visiting with them BOTH would have been nice…Betty Jean HAD to get the garage cleaned up, trash to the dump, and things put away…that was her focus.  She was determined.  Beth was concerned that her mom was being rude…but with patience I explained: I think that’s a common theme for people of her generation: “If I can do it, I am going to…and I will not be interrupted.”  It’s OK!

Beth and I had a WONDERFUL visit.  I can’t wait to do it again!  While 20  plus years have passed (a lifetime for our kids), we picked up where we left off…reminisced…updated, laughed and simply ENJOYED a visit.  I am so glad that I stopped in and we could visit for even a LITTLE while…We promised to not let 20 years pass before we visit again.  I know this will be hard to believe..Facebook isn’t for everyone…I was able to reconnect with the woman (she was a girl when I met her) who came to Maine in the spring of 1979, and stayed a week…She was from West Virginia (still is) and Facebook allowed us to reconnect…But Beth and I?  We exchanged cell phone numbers, and texting will be OUR option!

My observations to myself on the way home?

• Aging…those people who were our age 40 years ago…are aging in a parallel way to us…and as WE age, so do OUR kids…and NONE of us sees it coming in the day to day living that we do.
• How blessed am I, first to have had those experiences from the age of 12 to 20 (traveling all over Maine) then to have an older girl who was not only an example (a mentor), but a friend, STILL care about me and REMEMBER, and who, like all of us (so busy in the day-to-day), forgets to check in and before we know it 20 years have passed in the blink of an eye!

So today I am so very grateful.  I wouldn’t change a thing.  And I got to catch up with MY example.

I went for a drive today…I haven’t in a long time, as I haven’t felt the need…today…I brought myself to tears as I was thinking out loud…Yes, formulating a blog post because I didn’t want to clutter Facebook, and wanted to give you the option of reading or not…If you are reading, thank you.

I have talked bout the rings of a tree being a marker of sorts for the events of a year in the lifetime of a tree.  We humans….we mark time in terms of seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years….We mark life in terms of events and celebrate or mourn on the anniversaries of the milestone events in our lives.  Time.  Constant.

I then started thinking about another ring….the one created when we drop a stone in a calm body of water.  I think of the rock as our spirit.  The bigger the spirit, or the more we exercise it, the bigger the stone…the bigger/longer-lasting the rings.  The farther the reach…and still visible even when the rock is not.

I believe that prior to birth, our souls were waiting for the opportunity to feel physical pain and emotional pain.  To learn about happiness and sadness.  To learn. We learn through our life experience that there is opposition in all things (love/hate…life/death…happiness/sadness) and we also learn that everything we HAVE is temporary…and everything we LEARN, we keep…and the only thing over which we have absolute control is CHOICE.  One cannot fully appreciate one, without experiencing the other.

The  holidays bring their own set of challenges for those of us who “get through” them.  Please don’t misunderstand.  I love the music.  I love the decorations.  I love family traditions.  I love the spirit we feel with each other…somehow more open and loving than at any other time of year (except maybe funerals).  But those feelings come at a cost.  Because with all of that…some of us mark the holidays with a longing for those that are no longer with us…for traditions we no longer celebrate.  For some, they are significant.  We feel the pain, the loss, the heartache…

We are still getting used to living in a different space, with different everything…we love it all.  But what we treasure most, we never lost:  Faith, Memories, our FAMILY, and HAPPINESS.

Why was today’s drive so emotional?  A dear woman passed away yesterday.  She was known and loved by almost everyone she met.  Her influence was far greater than she knew.  And she passed on January 9.  January.  Over the last two months I have seen a number of my friends lose a dear one (fathers, brothers, mothers, sisters, husbands and wives)…most AFTER Christmas.  Significant because it meant “they got through the holidays.”  And if before Christmas, they looked up and “got through the holidays”.  I know of others who have lost family in January.  Let me share with you just a little…

The best Christmas I can remember was 1987.  I am sure when I was little they were awesome, and I do remember the traditions we had with parents, and obligatory  visits with grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins….but in 1987 it was simpler.  Mom was dying.  She was house-bound and attached to oxygen.  She was holding on…to “get through” Christmas.  I did all of the baking for the neighbors (we had exchanged Christmas treats with the neighbors since the week before Christmas 1966 when we moved in).  Dad gave us the Christmas money (my sister and me) to do the shopping…gifts and stockings.  There was my mom…on the couch, almost child-like in her joy and surprise at the stockings and thoughtfulness of the gifts.  She passed away on January 14, 1988 (yes…30 years ago this coming Sunday).  Mom’s short stint in the hospital and the one opportunity to visit before she passed, left me with nightmares for years…

Let’s fast forward to the week of December 7, 2007 (almost 20 years later).  Dad was in hospice (unheard of back in 1988).  We watched the care that was taken to keep him comfortable.  We were able to sit in his room…hold his hands, rub his legs, wipe his mouth, feed him ice chips, and take care of the man who took care of us.  We watched football (the Pats were headed for an undefeated season – until they faced Chuck Wert’s Giants), we ate pizza and reminisced.  We were present and he was present.  He passed away, alone (we were on our way…) on December 7…just a little more than 10 years ago….

I am reminded of the song “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas,”  and the line: ‘through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow.’  The fates don’t allow.  Death is NO respecter of persons.  They say if you want to make God laugh, tell Him you have plans.

No…I have a love/hate relationship with the holidays…but if I have learned anything?  Don’t expect to be together through the years…tell those people you love that you love them.  Don’t save it for the holidays!  Tell your heroes they are your heroes, before you no longer have the chance.  Tell those people in your life who have made a difference, that they MATTER to you.  I told Joanie more than once.  I told her I loved her more than once.  I know she knew.  There are those who are in your life, and they matter…and there are those who impacted your life in ways you don’t even think of, until they are no longer with us.

Yeah…I cried…and now I will be busy letting you know you make a difference.  I may have told you I love you.  I may tell you more than I should…but too bad.  We ALL have struggles.  Time is constant.  Seasons come and go.  Some move faster than others…some are harder than others.

The circle of life is perfect.  Next time you drop a pebble in the water…Don’t forget to remember. Don’t forget.  You have many circles, and you may not ever know how far they reach.

It’s been quite a while since I last posted my thoughts here.  I remember a couple (almost three) of years ago that I posted a message on Facebook, that was something like, “There are not enough miles of road, or enough letters in the alphabet to clearly express all the thoughts and emotions in my head…”  It was not meant to be a sad post, but merely a thought about how much “stuff” we think about and process (driving and writing stuff down is how I cope)… I am feeling the same way today…thus, on my drive this morning, I revisited the  “Junk Box.”  First, let me explain about the original junk box.

Joe and I were best friends.  There were no gender lines drawn…we simply spent a lot of time together, and enjoyed doing the same things…OK, I was a  bit of a tomboy, so those things included a lot of sports (you name it, we knew how to play it), art, imagination, Star Trek, Big Valley, Gilligan’s Island and no computers, or computer games…but climbing trees, picking apples, making bow and arrows…and one of the things we enjoyed MOST were our “junk boxes”.  They were tin lunch boxes with rusted hinges.  In them, we would save “parts.”  Those small engines that would turn the gears in a small motorcycle set (there was a pair), batteries, clothespins, string, superglue…the chassis of countless broken matchboxes and numbers of other broken toy-parts.  Think “junk drawer” in your kitchen.  We were always experimenting and trying to build something…anything with them.

Well, on my drive today, I was “experimenting” with the junk in my head.  I drove a little longer today and let my mind wander through the last 54 years (as far back as I could remember anyway)…

I am grateful for Facebook and the connections I can make with friends.  School Mates.  Rainbow. Harmony, Inc. Church family.  Blood family and neighborhood family (ours was magical)…those connections are vital to good mental health and emotional stability.  Especially when they are healthy relationships.

I was raised with the idea that friends don’t talk about religion or politics.  Certainly not acquaintances.  If I understand correctly, no matter what I might consider posting on my Facebook wall, there will be a vehement, rude, opinionated post to match.  So I don’t post.  I prefer to keep my posts uplifting and positive and I don’t need to tear down someone else’s beliefs to do it.  Only my closest friends know my political and religious views..and we are close enough and respect each other enough to agree to disagree.

Then I got to thinking about the influx of “junk” that DOES appear on my Facebook feed.  Sharing of “news” and opinions all in the hope to what?  Change my mind?  Accuse me?  Move me to action?  Perhaps I am a part of the problem because I have not been effected in any obvious way, by politics…By the idea that the ONLY person responsible for me…is me.  But my thoughts didn’t stay there long…Politics do little more than frustrate me.

I went from personal responsibility to the “junk” that is out of our control…in recent months I have seen/heard of tragic stuff:  A young man we knew who suffered from schizophrenia, and took his own life at 29.  Another young man, 36, was taken too soon by a rare form of dimentia.  Friends are battling cancer (at all ages, stages and types), and some just finished treatment.  Some are awaiting results of tests before a treatment plan can be discussed.  A neighbor and former baybitter to my siblings and me, on the street where I grew up, fell off his roof, broke his neck, and died.  He lived alone, so no one knows for sure how long it was from the time he had fallen until he was found by a neighbor.  And yesterday a former student of mine from driver’s ed, was accused of something that is 180 degrees away from who he is.  He was arrested, and his picture all over the news…so then my thoughts turned to…how none of that “junk” was about me…but what about…

Choices we make….choices our children make.  We raise them to be independent thinkers.  So when they make their own choices, we get upset when we don’t approve.  We LOVE our kids, dislike their choices…It can be done…then…Then I thought about the choices WE make that have consequences for other people…I went back to the life experiences I have had…because, well, you know…some people make it look so easy…

My first love, Jimmy, was killed in a car accident at the age of 11.  A family trip, and a terrible accident.  He was 11, and I was 10.  Out of my control, and changed my life, even though it didn’t happen to me.  Mom passed away at the age of 45.  Also out of my control, and effected me profoundly.  In June, I will have lived 10 years longer than Mom.  Dad passed away at 67 which was also out of my control, but effected me profoundly in a different way.  Both died of Cancer.  Yes, with a capital “C”.

When I was 4, we were burned out of our home in Portland, and dad moved us to Falmouth…the town where he grew up (out of my control, and barely remembered).  In 2014, we lost our home to a stupid accidental fire.  We lost almost everything we owned.  It was out of my control and probably effected me in more profound ways than the death(s) of my parents or the birth(s) of my children.  And still, I keep thinking, why is life harder for some than for others?  And JUST when you think you are coasting along just fine…something happens to remind us that this is all temporary.  And then I start thinking about “why?”

Not “Why Me.”  Why do people continue to try.  At anything?  Honestly?  This is what I think.  We try to live in the moment, and build.  Save.  Try.  Because with every effort we make…we learn.  I also wonder why or how some people can get so caught up in “doing” that they forget any kind of permanant consequences.  Nothing annoys me more than people who are oblivious to the way they effect the people around them.

After I filled the gas tank, and made my way down the hill, I came full circle…and decided it was time to empty the “Junk Box” and fill it with the tools necessary to keep putting one foot in front of the other:  Love.  Patience.  Faith.  Courage.  Effort.  Time to go invent.

On August 4, three weeks ago today, we lost three trees and part of another in our yard.  We believed the cause to be a ‘micro-burst.’  Now, please don’t misunderstand….we are grateful that in the wind, the house wasn’t damaged, and neither was my car when the maple tree landed on it…but, it was truly a heart wrenching loss.  Not by itself, but coupled with the loss of our original home just 18 months before…

You see, as I have explained, the tree…no…THE TREE was an anchor of sorts, and it was one of the remaining items from the original homestead that we were so blessed to keep….It SURVIVED the fire, debris removal and rebuilding…and yes…I have taken a few drives since it fell…and I got to thinking….

Did you ever consider the comparisons between the human body and a tree?  We both have a trunk and limbs….we often talk as humans about our “Family Tree” and our “roots.”

One of the things I noticed immediately about THE TREE was the fact that the roots never came up…They didn’t pull up the grass or any part of the driveway.  THE TREE was ripped from the roots, below the grass line.  The roots are right where they have always been.  They are planted deep.  23 years deep.  In good, fertile soil.  They received nutrients, sunlight and water…care, and love…and those roots held fast!  It made me think about my roots.  Could anyone or anything pull me away from them?  I like to think not.

We had 4 people here on August 14 to cut it all up and stack it.  At my request, they saved two large pieces each, of the Maple, Birch and Chokecherry.  While a friend will carve special things out of the wood, I am reminded that even when it seems we can no longer be who we are, we can still become more than we were.  Not only will those pieces be used to create something new, sentimental and beautiful, the main piece of the trunk will be carved into a birdbath.  THE TREE will continue to be a refuge to the birds in the neighborhood…  And the wood that was stacked will be donated to a family or families in our church who are in need of wood to heat their homes in the coming winter…

Lastly, as the tree was cut up, I was able to get an up close and personal view of a cross-section of the trunk.  A really good look at the rings, representing each year of growth.  It is possible that THE TREE was a few years old when we planted it, and it grew in our driveway for 23 years.

We were married in September of 1992 and planted THE TREE.  In April of 1994 we welcomed our first child, a boy.  Christian Jens.  The tree stood watch…and we could see it, as we sat in the rocking chair at our bedroom window, and rocked him to sleep…His brother, Andrew Stanley, joined us in July of 1996.  In 1998, we experienced an ice storm that shut down the northeast for weeks.  The tree survived, as did the birch trees.  As the boys got older we would lie under the tree and play.  When they could reach the bottom branches, they would try to climb.  Eventually, they COULD climb the tree.  They would throw toys into it and wait, climbing to retrieve those that got stuck.  When we had guests over, they would climb up and “hide”  and then greet each new arrival with a surprise “hello!”  First days of school were celebrated with a picture at the trunk of the tree.  Thunderstorms, Ice Storms, Blizzards and Hurricaines….THE TREE remained.  Snow-blowing, snow-plowing, paving…THE TREE saw it all.  With each new adventure, THE TREE grew…each new ring, often a quarter to a half inch a year, marked THE TREE internally with the history of that year….each experience making a difference in the growth of the tree.

I am certain that if you were to cut my trunk to get a cross-section and a good look at the “rings,” the only similar thing you would find is that before the cut I was healthy, strong, and vibrant.  Afterwards, I would be dead and grow no more, just like THE TREE.  My “rings” (most of them) are invisible.  I was born, learned to walk, speak, run, and climb…throw, draw sing.  Life events leaving an imprint that contributed to my growth; Love, Faith, death, tragedy, happiness, traditions, fear, learning, friendships from all stages of life…all of it.  Some left significant scars that still hurt on some days…others left pleasant memories that are a comfort to revisit…No…my rings are not visible, and if they were, there would be 53 years worth of them.

Yes, THE TREE is still  an anchor… the ROOTS are still there.  Like mine.  Deep, healthy, and alive.   All of you have had a part in my personal growth as a human being, in my “growth rings,’ in the shaping of who I am and who I hope to become….and MY roots are still there.  Thanks for letting me wax philosophical for a bit, as I work through this year’s ring.

They say God has a plan for us.  I believe that to be true, though I would be hard pressed to figure it out right now…what His plan is for me…

Did you know we lost our home about 17 months ago?  On August 7 it will be 17  months…we lost our home, two pets and nearly everything we owned.  We had a place to live while the debris was cleared, additional foundation poured, and new house built.  We moved in on October 9th, 2014.

What you may not know is that prior to the fire, for nearly 23 years, as I approached our driveway from the south (from up the hill), I would look for our house.  In the early years, before things grew up around us, I could see the house all the way down….in the daytime there it stood.  Waiting.  In the evenings/nights, I could see the lights and they signaled the safety…no… sanctuary, that was home.  23 years.

In the beginning (why not?), we had the house built over the summer of 1992, and moved in when we returned from our honeymoon in  late September.  We had plans for the landscaping….which included a tree in the middle of the driveway.  I took pictures….but I am not certain if I have them anymore…the fire.  We planted a Maple tree.  It was our plan for the tree to grow, and provide shade.  And beautiful colors in the fall.  The first tree was too weak and almost before we got it home, it died .  The nursery replaced it with a bigger tree.  One the boys and I would play under….one that we would use as the backdrop for school pictures.  Anytime we knew company was coming, the boys would climb up and hide in the leaves, in order to greet (in surprise) our guests.

We watched the snow piles build around it, as snow accumulated on its symmetrical frame…we watched all spring for the red buds to appear, and then the bright green as the leaves unfolded…and those colors in the fall.  That tree was magnificent.

Shortly after the fire, and while it was still painful to look for our first home as I traveled down the hill, the tree became my anchor.  The tree that stood silent watch over us for nearly 23 years….the tree that grew as we grew….some of us heavier, some of us taller, and all of us older.  The Tree.

Yesterday, it appears as though a circular cloud, with significant wind, rain, and hail, set its sights on our driveway, that tree, and the birch trees near the back door.  That tree.   Gone.  And it hurts.  It was more than just a tree…

We have already established that I like to drive….I drove around the lake this morning…in pouring rain…and I got to thinking about the way the rain has a way of cleaning…it was raining pretty hard.  It’s thundering as I type.  I thought about how clean my car is now…how clean the roads will be.  How the pollen and spring “stuff” is falling off the trees and being washed away…

I started singing a hymn from church.  I used to sing it as a lullaby as I rocked our baby boys to sleep for their afternoon naps.  The name of the hymn?  “I Am A Child of God.”  and I sang it full on, loud, in a pitch I found comfortable…and the chorus?

“Lead me, guide, me, walk beside me, help me find the way…”  I stopped for a moment….It is when I forget to ask that question that I feel the most lost.  Imperfection is not a flaw.  It’s an opportunity to be better.  Amen.

I have an addiction.  Truly I should stand up in a meeting and say, “My name is Denise, and I am addicted to driving.”

I have found MY personal meditation/therapy/confessional behind the wheel of my car.  On a good day, 1 hour around Sebago Lake is enough to talk myself into, or out of anything: a mood, a decision, a project….you name it.  It is an immeasurable help to do what I affectionately refer to “Data Dumping.”  Most days, 1 hour is enough.  Some days there are not enough miles of roadway to slow the whirring thoughts.

Today was a 1 hour drive kinda day.  Here is what a chain of thoughts can produce:  Wow it’s a really nice day, I’ll put the window down, oooh, remember last year and all that was going on….you were working out of the dining room at Aunt Margaret’s while waiting for debris removal…it was cold in the house, but beautiful outside.  Oh…I haven’t really posted any updates to Facebook, but no one will want to hear how often you flashback…they just want to know you are ok….Oh, Facebook….THANK YOU….Facebook has enabled so many to answer that question we all ask as we get older: “I wonder whatever happened to (Insert Name Here)?”  I have reconnected with family, friends, neighborhood kids, school friends, Rainbow people, work friends from every job I have ever had…How cool to reconnect…oooh…circles….

When I thought of those circles…like rings of a tree trunk….or ripples on the water, I was reminded of a presentation I once saw…. A very long time ago…and while I don’t remember the words…I remember the visual.  It was delivered by a dear woman whom I still love and respect.

Picture a large, round mirror on a table.  Upon the mirror, in the center, she placed a Styrofoam “rock.”  The rock represented me.  And she reminded everyone that when a rock is dropped on calm water, rings are created that radiate outward.  The ripples or “rings” were represented by seven Styrofoam circles, of varying sizes.

The smallest circle was Red.  Red, in the Rainbow Girls, represents love.  Imagine the smallest circle being those closest to you.  The loves of your life.  Your innermost circle.

The next circle was Orange.  Orange denotes religion.  A religion where the greatest commandment is that we love God, and love others.  Period…how appropriate that religion would surround love.

Yellow, the next “ring” is for Nature.  Sometimes it is through experiencing the out of doors, we are closest to our God, and ourselves.

Immortality was the next circle and the color is Green.  Evergreen.  Eternal.  From the moment we are born, we are traveling towards death.  That last enemy.

The 5th ring is Blue.  Fidelity.  True blue friendship…honoring commitment.  Loyalty.

The next to last ring is Indigo.  A reminder to respect our flag, honor those that protect our freedom, and be thankful for the right to disagree.

The last ring, and the largest is Violet.  Service.  We were reminded to “respond most graciously and most unselfishly to the call of love as it comes to (us) in opportunities of service.”   I guess, that was perhaps the most important message of all…to LOVE is to SERVE and they are connected by all of the other rings….

Imagine how many of  those rings have radiated from you as a result of the experiences of your life…and how many time you might have been called upon to use those “rings” to survive each new life adventure.

Yeah…In the car today I thought of all of THOSE things…and more…as I pulled into my driveway, I said a prayer of thanksgiving:  as I look back over the last 52 years and 361 days of that the Rock I am told I am….I wouldn’t change a thing.  53?  Bring it on!

I have always been in Customer Service.  in 1980 I worked for a grocery chain here in Maine.  I worked for that company for 18 years.  It was something to do until I got a real job.  Then I worked 1 year at a fast food restaurant, and following that 7 years for a major retailer in Maine at a 3rd shift call center. In all, I have spent over 25 years in Customer Service.  I learned a few things:

• I did NOT deliberately go slow to make you wait longer.
• I cannot open another register if I have no more able bodied people in the store.
• 10 items or less doesn’t mean 13 or 15 or even 20…it means 10. And dividing your items into two orders of 8 each is NOT ten items or less.
• We may be told that the customer is always right, but 99% of the time they are not.
• 100% customer satisfaction guarantee doesn’t mean that because your child liked BLUE best last year you can exchange it for a green one (her new favorite color) this year.
• I have a hard time believing that shoppers cannot get their shopping done Monday-Saturday between 7AM and 11 PM.  Opening on Sundays and Holidays was a big mistake.  And why should I have to work THOSE Sundays and Holidays because YOU can’t take care of your shopping needs at any other time?
• No a shopping cart is NOT a vehicle and I will not serve you in the drive thru window.
• You really braved a blizzard to pick up that bag of chips and half gallon of ice cream?
• There are a lot of lonely, crazy people who call call centers just to talk to someone.

Retail workers are the invisible people who stock shelves, scan and bag your order, get price checks, listen to your complaints and retrieve the carts you couldn’t return to the store.  They show up in bad weather, blizzards, hurricanes, and power outages to make sure you can get what you think you need.  They don’t set the prices.   They don’t set the hours.  They don’t schedule the help.  And they are required to meet minimums:  fastest start to finish drive thru orders (1:30 was the norm).  They are required to meet a minimum number of items scanned per minute (RPMs in a grocery store are “rings per minute”).  In a call center setting, every call is monitored for quality and time (and there were a few customers who could keep one representative on the phone for 2 hours at a time).

This holiday season, it is the Customer Service Representative who will do everything they can, with a smile, to make your shopping experience better than horrid.  Thank them.  They often work for little more than minimum wage.  They will listen to you complain about how early Christmas stuff comes out, items that are out of stock, and how tired YOU are already…put yourself in their shoes for one moment…they get to experience the joys of holiday shopping from both sides.  It isn’t fun.

Yep….WHOM (94.9) started the 24/7 holiday music…they will play it through the end of the day, December 25th.  And I LOVE IT!  I mentioned in an earlier blog that I am addicted to an hour long drive around the lake (almost every morning…it’s how I start my day)…And today the Christmas music started….

An hour may not have been long enough today….each song brought special memories…and significant  emotional responses as I remembered Christmases past….in Falmouth (where I grew up)…the illnesses and loss of my parents….celebrations at my Nana’s (in Falmouth…on her porch, and in Portland)…And in the home we knew for 22 years….

I miss being a kid.  And I miss my little boys.  The excitement and wonder ina child’s eyes.  Simpler.  Easier.  I miss the comfort of Christmas mornings…pancakes and bacon..(oh…we will still have that)…And I look forward to Christmases here, with our grandchildren, and a front porch…

This season?  It’s kinda like a swim in a cold lake….In listening to the music (before Thanksgiving), and beginning to decorate…I am dipping a toe and wading in…rather than jump in all at once in the middle of December.  In a while, I will be acclimated and will enjoy the Season, “swimmingly!”

22 years of a very happy, content, life.  22 years of accumulated stuff.  22 years of physical memories destroyed in about an hour.

Those who know me well, know that I am not a drinker, or a smoker, and that I am VERY modest.  Imagine my dismay in knowing that on March 7, because they couldn’t reach the flames on the second floor of our home, the fire department had to have a crew come in to pull the walls down.  We were next door at my mother-in-law’s and could hear the house as it was pulled apart and spread on the ground.

Imagine the next day…March 8.  Everything was covered with ash, soot, smoke, and ice.  It was unsafe to get too close.  We could see the fridge, the washer…and ironing board…mattresses…broken doors…we couldn’t find the piano…or any part of it…not yet.

Do you remember the months of March and April, 2014?  In Maine, it was cold.  Raw.  Windy.  Every other day brought more freezing rain, rain, or snow…Sure…I walked over there nearly every day…looking for anything that might be saved…but what bothered me the most was the fact that pages of magazines, books, notebooks….and anything paper (pictures, school art…) was blowing across the field.  Everything we were.  Everything we had saved.  Our house was turned inside out, and open to anyone who wanted to wander by and have a look around.  We could see the phonograph records…clothing (ripped and singed), and stuff.  The pictures below are from April 7 (one month after the fire) and that was probably the earliest we could move around…

April 23rd we had a “Treasure Hunt” and invited everyone we knew to come help us sift through the debris pile.  We sorted metal, clothing, paper, and wood.  We found some things to keep.  And much more that was now trash.  Imagine my comfort level as folks sifted through underwear….journals….books….our lives were on display, and being picked through quite thoroughly.  We tried to save a lot of things that really were too damaged to realistically keep.

We have learned a lot.  Grown a lot.  In the last 9 months our faith has been strengthened.  I think tomorrow I will show you the beginning of the next chapter in our lives….today, I share these pictures and hope to leave the scabs alone.  It really DID happen.  We really DO live here in this new house…and the world keeps spinning.