Today is the day that Papa will hang up his hat, extract his ear plugs and put away his steel-toed shoes. After 37 years, 5 months of working the same company, taking the heat from out-of-touch, self-serving corporate cronies, and suffering the monotony of day in and day out humdrum, he will walk out the door never to return. During those many years, he didn't think seriously (though he dreamt regularly) about quitting his loathed job, partially because his generation was committed to a life-long job and partially because he was able to take good financial care of his family of five because of the wages he earned. After today, when his three daughters are grown and on their own, and he's still young enough to really enjoy being his own boss, he'll be enslaven to nobody and nothing except the regular beat (or irregular beat when it's not working properly) of the propellar motor on his fishing boat. Bittersweet, of course, even though he's been counting the days to this day. Bitter because it was a l.o.n.g. 37 years; sweet because he'll be opening a new chapter of his life.
Papa, you deserve this. Congratulations for an accomplished life and career. Now go fishing. I love you.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
And So It Goes ...
This week will mark the first of hopefully-not-many holidays I'll spend without Hubs. It's a career hazard to live 6 hours from each other and then travel another 10 hours the other way to the Bis for a holiday that only lasts 4 days. There is little likelihood that under this scenario, we'll ever be together for a holiday.
There is also little likelihood, however, that our holidays will be spent in the Bis for very much longer. PapaDoc took an early retirement and the ParentDoc duo is seriously comtemplating their relocation to our little sleepy town of Helena. It's a bittersweet thought as I try to contemplate never having Christmas or Thanksgiving in the house I've called home for much of my life.
So, I don't mind making the trek back east for the holidays even if it means I'll be without Hubs. But let's not make this a habit. And be prepared for snow because inevitably it'll snow directly and exclusively along our way there. That's just how it goes.
Happy Thanksgiving.
There is also little likelihood, however, that our holidays will be spent in the Bis for very much longer. PapaDoc took an early retirement and the ParentDoc duo is seriously comtemplating their relocation to our little sleepy town of Helena. It's a bittersweet thought as I try to contemplate never having Christmas or Thanksgiving in the house I've called home for much of my life.
So, I don't mind making the trek back east for the holidays even if it means I'll be without Hubs. But let's not make this a habit. And be prepared for snow because inevitably it'll snow directly and exclusively along our way there. That's just how it goes.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Ring ...
Canada isn't a foreign country. I would probably have less to write about if I told you what was different than similar - e.g. the currency (the tooney is my fave), the accent ('aboot' is my fave), the propensity for oil and gas development (no faves there), etc. Oh and the light switches are upside down - up is off and down is on - maybe that's just in this office though. But the most striking difference thus far is the telephone... or is it?
So, I'm sitting here working in my Hubs' office (PhD students have some pull around here) and the phone rings. I'm the only one here because Hubs has gone on a lunch date without me (yup, without me even though I've traveled from a FOREIGN COUNTRY to be with him) so I don't know what to do about this ringing phone. It's a land-line first of all so my born-again-virgin-land-line-user self didn't even know it was the phone at first. And secondly, it's the most unusual ring I've ever heard. And while it's been awhile since I've even heard a land-line ring, you can be sure they NEVER sounded like this one. It was a long howl with a scratchy grunt at the end as if a howling dog had a little too much to drink last night.
I wouldn't even blog about such a seemingly insigificant thing (because I usually reserve my blogs for VERY important matters) except that while Hubs and I were running the first day I arrived in Calgary, he paused to shake his head a bit. And then he looked at me puzzled and said, "Sometimes when I run, I get this click in my head. Can you hear it?" I responded with sympathy, of course, because that's what a good wife would do: "Sometimes when I run I can hear music in my head; like now - can you hear it?"
So maybe the telephone I think I'm hearing is the ringing in my head - or Hubs' head. I'll ask him when he returns from the lunch that I'm not eating.
So, I'm sitting here working in my Hubs' office (PhD students have some pull around here) and the phone rings. I'm the only one here because Hubs has gone on a lunch date without me (yup, without me even though I've traveled from a FOREIGN COUNTRY to be with him) so I don't know what to do about this ringing phone. It's a land-line first of all so my born-again-virgin-land-line-user self didn't even know it was the phone at first. And secondly, it's the most unusual ring I've ever heard. And while it's been awhile since I've even heard a land-line ring, you can be sure they NEVER sounded like this one. It was a long howl with a scratchy grunt at the end as if a howling dog had a little too much to drink last night.
I wouldn't even blog about such a seemingly insigificant thing (because I usually reserve my blogs for VERY important matters) except that while Hubs and I were running the first day I arrived in Calgary, he paused to shake his head a bit. And then he looked at me puzzled and said, "Sometimes when I run, I get this click in my head. Can you hear it?" I responded with sympathy, of course, because that's what a good wife would do: "Sometimes when I run I can hear music in my head; like now - can you hear it?"
So maybe the telephone I think I'm hearing is the ringing in my head - or Hubs' head. I'll ask him when he returns from the lunch that I'm not eating.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Test Case
Although I was able to unpack my bags and put away my immigration papers after the historic event on November 4th, I am heading to Canada for a more extended stay with Hubs. I will stay for 10 days and work remotely from there through next week. I am excited to try this out. We committed that we would try this so that I won't have to use my vacation time to see Hubs for more than a weekend at a time here and there. Or the other option was to only see Hubs for a weekend at a time here and there. It was up in the air whether my boss would allow me to do this type of "new age" work arrangement. Turns out he is and this first time will be a test-case for whether I can do it again. Wish me luck!
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Proud
November 4th was an historic event. This is how I first knew it for myself:
I volunteered as a poll watcher from 6:45 a.m. to 8:45 p.m. I watched voter after voter stand in line, present his/her I.D., accept a ballot and go vote in the booth. It was my role to work with the Election Judges and Chief Election Judge to ensure that every vote counted. And we, together, made the process work.
At one point in the steady but not busy afternoon, a family of four came in to vote. A man and woman, married, and their 4 children ranging in age from a girl of about 5 to the oldest boy of about 13. Two of the children, the youngest, I assumed were biological and the other two the oldest, I assumed, were adopted. They were the first two people of color to go through the line that day and the only ones as the day went on. They looked exactly alike so I also assumed they were brother and sister and had been with this family for a good long time because they were a cohesive unit.
They accompanied their parents to the voting booths "to learn the voting process" as they told us when they went through the line. While they were at the booths, I wondered who counseled whom, as their voices lifted above the room and to our ears: "...no, not that one; he has ugly hair." "Yeah, vote that one, that's who Dad is voting for..." And so on.
But the most touching part came as they exited the building. They trailed out one after another with smiles on their faces and our Dum Dum suckers in their mouths. The last out the door was the oldest adopted boy. He put his arm around his Dad and said, "So, Dad, how do you feel about me running for President someday?" To which is father said, "Yes, You Can." And they laughed as they went out the door.
That feeling never left me for the day and it was confirmed as a common feeling in our country by the many tear-streaked cheeks in the sea of faces in the crowds of support for our new President-Elect.
I slept well last night and didn't even awake to the text message I received at 12:45 a.m.: "We just made history. All of this happened because you gave your time, talent and passion to this campaign. All of this happened because of you. Thanks, Barack."
You're welcome, President. Thank you.
I volunteered as a poll watcher from 6:45 a.m. to 8:45 p.m. I watched voter after voter stand in line, present his/her I.D., accept a ballot and go vote in the booth. It was my role to work with the Election Judges and Chief Election Judge to ensure that every vote counted. And we, together, made the process work.
At one point in the steady but not busy afternoon, a family of four came in to vote. A man and woman, married, and their 4 children ranging in age from a girl of about 5 to the oldest boy of about 13. Two of the children, the youngest, I assumed were biological and the other two the oldest, I assumed, were adopted. They were the first two people of color to go through the line that day and the only ones as the day went on. They looked exactly alike so I also assumed they were brother and sister and had been with this family for a good long time because they were a cohesive unit.
They accompanied their parents to the voting booths "to learn the voting process" as they told us when they went through the line. While they were at the booths, I wondered who counseled whom, as their voices lifted above the room and to our ears: "...no, not that one; he has ugly hair." "Yeah, vote that one, that's who Dad is voting for..." And so on.
But the most touching part came as they exited the building. They trailed out one after another with smiles on their faces and our Dum Dum suckers in their mouths. The last out the door was the oldest adopted boy. He put his arm around his Dad and said, "So, Dad, how do you feel about me running for President someday?" To which is father said, "Yes, You Can." And they laughed as they went out the door.
That feeling never left me for the day and it was confirmed as a common feeling in our country by the many tear-streaked cheeks in the sea of faces in the crowds of support for our new President-Elect.
I slept well last night and didn't even awake to the text message I received at 12:45 a.m.: "We just made history. All of this happened because you gave your time, talent and passion to this campaign. All of this happened because of you. Thanks, Barack."
You're welcome, President. Thank you.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Couldn't Have Said It Better ...
In the New York Times, in an article about how Obama has inspired millions of black Americans to come out and vote. A quote: “I think it’s a testament to his campaign that he can inspire. At the end of the day, no matter what party you vote for, I think every once in a while there are inspirational moments that call for people to wake up from their deep sleep and become alive and get involved. And I think Barack at the very least is an inspirational figure.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
