If time allows…

If nothing else, this long-winding pandemic has given us all time to think.  And look back on so much of what we’ve easily taken for granted.

Travel, for one.  Visiting far-away family and being part of special events in their lives.

Last May, into June, was one occasion.  A big one at that.  Our oldest grandson’s graduation from high school.  To be part of his celebration was a gift and a blessing, especially since so many other families have had this precious time taken away this year, due to this damn virus. 

It was an incredible day.  Whether it’s your child or a grandchild, that burst of pride that creeps up in your chest, slowly taking your breath away as their name is called, and they walk across the stage, is something we’ve all experienced…and treasure.

Jake's Graduation-2019

Graduation was followed by a visit to the University of Florida, our grandson’s next stop on the way to his future as a DVM.  We enjoyed a tour of the campus with a special stop at Ben Hill Griffin Stadium and a visit to the college bookstore and some fun photos with our youngest grandchild.

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One special thing about Gainesville, Florida (for me) aside from UF is that Tom Petty was born and raised there.  Yes, I am a diehard fan.  Always was, always will be and…the visit couldn’t have ended better than with a stop at Tom Petty Park.

 

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So, there you have it.  One year ago, a few days to gather memories and conjure up much wishful thinking for the chance to do it all again. 

If time allows.

 

workshop-button-1From Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop…Throwback Thursday: Choose a photo from a previous June and write!
One photo just wasn’t enough to share all the special memories from June of 2019.  Looking back from where we’re all sitting or self-distancing now, in 2020, it almost seems like an eternity, not just one year.

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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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