Life happens…

High School…Senior Year.

So many dreams for the future mixed with an incredible amount of uncertainty with what might lie ahead.

For those with both feet firmly planted on the pathway to college or some career, there was little doubt in place.  For others, like me, there was one choice, a dream even, with what was on my horizon.  That was a constant topic in 12th grade.  What college did you pick?  Where will you be working?  And of course, for those who had been high school “couples” of record, the inevitable… Will you get married after school?

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Just one thing was on my agenda.  Stewardess College.  That’s what it was called, back in the day. 

I had the application filled-out, ready to attend the American Airlines facility in Dallas, Texas.  As I recall, being 18 at the time, both parental signatures were required on the form and I had just one, my fathers.  My mother, another story.  Mind you, I had that paperwork tucked away once I started my senior year but my mother always refused to discuss it when I broached the subject with her.  Airplanes crash! was always her basic response but that was her way, much like being at the beach and hearing her say You’ll drown! each time I went into the water.  Ahhh, the downside of my being an only child.

Graduation slowly moved closer and so did my application.  One more attempt to get my mother to sign failed miserably the week before commencement.  And, she managed to convince my father to set me up with an office position with Bell Telephone.  To both of them, my future looked bright, at least through their glasses, but not mine.  That one dream I held so close ended up being torn into pieces and thrown in the wastebasket.

Was it the right thing?  I’ll never know but I sure as hell will always wonder.  A missed opportunity to spread my wings disappeared with an argument and a parental mandate.  Every young person should have that chance to grow and experience life’s unknown territories.  But, that was more than fifty years ago, when kids mostly listened, and obeyed, their parents.  We trusted their judgement and relied on whatever wisdom we thought they had even if that was based on their desire to retain some element of control.

Life will happen, in spite of it all and although we take those roads less traveled or make a few detours along the way, we all end up just where we’re supposed to be. 

I’ve learned that, if nothing more. 

 

workshop-button-1From Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop…Share a 12th grade memory.  Trust me, I gave a lot of thought back then to simply forging my mothers name on that application.  I mean, what could have happened once I had my suitcase packed and got out the door to the airport?  The hardest part would have been finding someone to drive me to JFK.  Woulda, coulda, shoulda!

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Every picture tells a story…

I knew, we all knew, it was coming.  Just how bad it might be?  Totally another story.

For several weeks, the media went from sharing random news releases to one major shitstorm concerning outbreaks and assorted factual, and less objective, network-opinionated, coverage.

Most of us took the impending virus onslaught in a cautionary stride, focused more on hoarding toilet paper and hand sanitizer.  In fact, I did a screen shot of a joke that I found a tad amusing.

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Most of us still scurried about, sans any masks, and convinced ourselves that we probably had COVID-19, in some form, earlier in the year.  We looked at other communities and the rate of infections there, figuring that would never happen here! Reality quickly set in once states and local governments set forth their mandates closing various businesses and issuing stay-at-home orders. 

My final day of employment was March 21st and, as I put the key in the door of the salon, I made a few mental notes of what to do next.  At the top of that list was a stop at the supermarket where a certain amount of hysteria was already in place as I rolled into the parking lot.  I thought to myself about how long this modified quarantine might last, two maybe three weeks at best?  I shopped accordingly and headed home, ready to shield my family from the rest of the world, mostly from… “the virus”!

And…I started cooking.  Somehow, when I combine my anxiety and energy in the kitchen, good things usually happen.  I hit the ground running, ready for almost anything during what I thought would be just a brief time off from work.  As my, world famous, meatballs sizzled quietly on the stove, I snapped a photo to share on social media.  I remember thinking to myself that this unexpected “vacation” wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.  Who doesn’t enjoy some free time at home to delve into unfinished tasks?

Captivity Meatballs

That…was two months ago.  Almost nine weeks.  Sixty-three days as of this post.   I won’t break it down any further into hours, minutes and seconds. 

I’m certain you get the picture.

 

 

 

workshop-button-1 From Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop:  Show us the last picture you took BEFORE quarantine. Write about that moment/day.

I cheated here because, other than the sarcastic Meme, I didn’t have any opportunity to take photos leading up to the “quarantine”…I worked right up to the last moment.  Frankly, even while those big fat meatballs were lounging in the saute pan, I was one of “those” not taking this virus situation that seriously.  Hell, I’ve been through power outages, hurricanes, major snowstorms…how bad could this pandemic be?

Enough said.

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Welcome Home!

Do you enjoy being at home?

I think most of us do, especially if we’re still out there in the workplace.  Or, like me, were.

Pre-shutdown, by the end of each week, Elton John’s “Saturday Nights Alright for Fighting” usually raged through my head as I looked forward to Sunday, and some time off from the weekly madness

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This hasn’t been the case in the last few weeks.  Once my gypsy soul became entrapped in the stay-at-home virus guidelines, music has become more of a dirge as I drag myself through one more day and watch news updates on the pandemic.  In between, some needed household tasks fill the daily, empty, time slots but that tends to wear off very quickly.  I mean, how much can one clean a house?  The motivation for my putting on my scullery maid cap usually is dictated by visits from family or friends.  Now…not so much.   So why kill myself?

Okay, okay.  It’s not all THAT bad.  Let me focus on something good.  Actually, more than good.  Amazing, incredible and nothing short of a miracle!

Our dear friend was stricken with COVID-19 at the end of March.  This, after he had remained mostly at home once the outbreak began, with maybe one or two trips to a local market.  Like most of us, he was very much apprehensive but was feeling fine and chose to head up to his upstate week-end home, just to get away for a few days.  Somewhere along the way, the virus took him down and his family took him to the Albany Stratton VA Hospital for treatment.  God was definitely on his side for the 27 days of his hospitalization and 17 days on a ventilator.  A Vietnam Veteran, retired NYFD Lieutenant and a 9/11 Responder, the outstanding treatment he received by the dedicated doctors and nurses at this hospital contributed to his excellent recovery.

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When I think back over the last few weeks, being at home allowed me to stay in contact with his family, just about every day.  We talked, texted and prayed.  We knew that he was a fighter and his determination would somehow get him through the ravages of this virus and back to his family and precious grandchildren 

That..it did!  Having finished some rehabilitation, he’s officially heading home…today

The best Mother’s Day gift of all?  An early morning call this past Sunday, from this dear friend, wishing me a Happy Mother’s Day! 

All I can say, and keep saying is…Welcome Home, Michael! 

     And, of course, thank you, God!

 

workshop-button-1From Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop….Tell us about the best thing to come of your stay home quarantine

There isn’t much more I can add to my post other than…it doesn’t get much better than this!

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