I promised a more upbeat post for this time, so I thought that some simple joys from today's thoughts would be a good way to start the week.
Napping on the deck on a summery autumn afternoon with the sounds of squirrels rustling in the fallen leaves as white noise.
Going to lunch as a family at our favorite luncheonette we haven't visited for a long time and finding that the chicken sandwiches, chili dogs, and fries are just as good as we remembered.
My husband and older daughter researching geneology together, and excited by newly discovered ancestors.
Watching the princess sleep.
Homemade cookies.
Spaghetti for dinner.
Starting a new book.
The picture of a neighborhood cat sitting on the roof of Anna's car that Bruce took with my camera while I was at work.
Donating gently used clothes.
A hot mug of tea to start the day.
A bowl of cornflakes to end the day.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Tuesday's Thoughts
Today I am pondering some things that may or may not have easy answers.
There has been much debate lately (at least in the media) about bullying. There seems to be some surprise that bullying is an issue, and some people seem to believe it is a recent societal problem, and that we have become a “nation of weenies“. I remember my own childhood, and how beginning in the sixth grade I was bullied by some other kids, and it continued to some extent into my first year of high school. I suspect there are many people who had similar experiences. Yes, I survived to become a relatively well adjusted adult. The difference between now and then (trust me it was decades ago) is that I could get away from it. When I went home, I was safe. No cell phones and text messages, or even anyone calling my phone to harass me since they would have had to talk to my mother first. No anonymity for the caller and that was without caller I.D. Just my mother saying, “Who’s calling?” if they had asked for me. There was no internet, so no instant messaging, e-mail, or social networking account to be tortured through. Perhaps one of the reasons that bullying hurts so much more now is that there is no way for kids to really get away from it. Even if a child has a close relationship with family and can talk about it, it is still in their house, their room, their pocket.
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I don’t understand why many people are so defensive and closed minded/hearted when it comes to including those with disabilities in daily life on a regular--daily--basis. What on earth are they afraid of losing from their “normal” lives by making some small accommodation, or giving the disabled a chance to do something meaningful? It hurts when I hear that staff look at my daughter and say “she can’t do anything, she doesn’t belong here”, (they didn’t say it to me, but to her aide and right in front of her), or when I overhear other staff members complaining about what a pain it is to have a disabled boy helping them. Sometimes I can’t help but wish that one day those people will be in a position similar to my daughter, or that disabled boy so they can feel the pain of being excluded from society in such a way.
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Why does a boss not see that you get much more from your employees when you encourage, take an interest, and consider suggestions than you do by giving only negative comments over the phone and rarely showing up when the bulk of the work is being done? How can you expect your business to do well, and the employees to give their all under those circumstances?
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So those are my Tuesday thoughts, heavy, yes, but they’ve been bugging me lately. Next post will be of a happier, lighter tone--promise!
There has been much debate lately (at least in the media) about bullying. There seems to be some surprise that bullying is an issue, and some people seem to believe it is a recent societal problem, and that we have become a “nation of weenies“. I remember my own childhood, and how beginning in the sixth grade I was bullied by some other kids, and it continued to some extent into my first year of high school. I suspect there are many people who had similar experiences. Yes, I survived to become a relatively well adjusted adult. The difference between now and then (trust me it was decades ago) is that I could get away from it. When I went home, I was safe. No cell phones and text messages, or even anyone calling my phone to harass me since they would have had to talk to my mother first. No anonymity for the caller and that was without caller I.D. Just my mother saying, “Who’s calling?” if they had asked for me. There was no internet, so no instant messaging, e-mail, or social networking account to be tortured through. Perhaps one of the reasons that bullying hurts so much more now is that there is no way for kids to really get away from it. Even if a child has a close relationship with family and can talk about it, it is still in their house, their room, their pocket.
````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
I don’t understand why many people are so defensive and closed minded/hearted when it comes to including those with disabilities in daily life on a regular--daily--basis. What on earth are they afraid of losing from their “normal” lives by making some small accommodation, or giving the disabled a chance to do something meaningful? It hurts when I hear that staff look at my daughter and say “she can’t do anything, she doesn’t belong here”, (they didn’t say it to me, but to her aide and right in front of her), or when I overhear other staff members complaining about what a pain it is to have a disabled boy helping them. Sometimes I can’t help but wish that one day those people will be in a position similar to my daughter, or that disabled boy so they can feel the pain of being excluded from society in such a way.
````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
Why does a boss not see that you get much more from your employees when you encourage, take an interest, and consider suggestions than you do by giving only negative comments over the phone and rarely showing up when the bulk of the work is being done? How can you expect your business to do well, and the employees to give their all under those circumstances?
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So those are my Tuesday thoughts, heavy, yes, but they’ve been bugging me lately. Next post will be of a happier, lighter tone--promise!
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Clergyman's Visit
The following is a creative account of one evening ten years ago when Hillary had bilateral hip surgery to correct a leg length discrepancy and disjointed hips.
It was the quiet time of the evening in the pediatric ward as the mother sat reading a Dean Koontz novel. She was too young to be old, but too old to be young. The best you could say was that she was born in the last years of the baby boom, and her youngest boomlet lay recovering from double hip surgery in the hospital bed next to her chair. In a full body cast and heavily sedated, the only noise in the room was her breathing and the tick of the IV pump. As her mother lost herself in the book, she reveled in the quiet. Just as she reached a particularly creepy part of the story, a voice came out of nowhere and caused her to jump and give a little yelp. She looked up into the kind face of a young clergyman who was doing his rounds in the university hospital, seeking those who needed a bit of comfort as their children recovered from surgery or illness. She laughed and apologized for yelping, just as he apologized for interrupting her and giving her a fright. She put the book aside and gave her full attention to the visitor.
It was at times awkward as the two sat there in the quiet room, noises from the hall and other patient rooms filtering in through the partially closed door. He tried to offer some comfort as best he could while she attempted to give him the short version of her daughter’s medical history from the past 9 years. She realized that each of them found themselves in the position of trying to explain the unexplainable. He however had the advantage of being trained for this. They managed pretty well, falling back on the way they met for a chuckle. The visit lasted about a half an hour and he seemed reluctant to leave. This was a mother who wasn’t hysterical, or even close to tears. Rather, she had the manner of someone who was on retreat, relaxed as she was although she did seem a bit tired. The child made not a sound while he was there, and her mother frequently looked over at her and gently touched her face from time to time.
The visit ended with a prayer for healing for the girl, and comfort and strength for her mother. They wished each other a good night and he left. The mother picked up her book and continued reading with a more tranquil feeling than she’d had before.
It was the quiet time of the evening in the pediatric ward as the mother sat reading a Dean Koontz novel. She was too young to be old, but too old to be young. The best you could say was that she was born in the last years of the baby boom, and her youngest boomlet lay recovering from double hip surgery in the hospital bed next to her chair. In a full body cast and heavily sedated, the only noise in the room was her breathing and the tick of the IV pump. As her mother lost herself in the book, she reveled in the quiet. Just as she reached a particularly creepy part of the story, a voice came out of nowhere and caused her to jump and give a little yelp. She looked up into the kind face of a young clergyman who was doing his rounds in the university hospital, seeking those who needed a bit of comfort as their children recovered from surgery or illness. She laughed and apologized for yelping, just as he apologized for interrupting her and giving her a fright. She put the book aside and gave her full attention to the visitor.
It was at times awkward as the two sat there in the quiet room, noises from the hall and other patient rooms filtering in through the partially closed door. He tried to offer some comfort as best he could while she attempted to give him the short version of her daughter’s medical history from the past 9 years. She realized that each of them found themselves in the position of trying to explain the unexplainable. He however had the advantage of being trained for this. They managed pretty well, falling back on the way they met for a chuckle. The visit lasted about a half an hour and he seemed reluctant to leave. This was a mother who wasn’t hysterical, or even close to tears. Rather, she had the manner of someone who was on retreat, relaxed as she was although she did seem a bit tired. The child made not a sound while he was there, and her mother frequently looked over at her and gently touched her face from time to time.
The visit ended with a prayer for healing for the girl, and comfort and strength for her mother. They wished each other a good night and he left. The mother picked up her book and continued reading with a more tranquil feeling than she’d had before.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Monday Evening Thoughts
Lately I've been pondering some things I don't quite understand.
How is it that the company that builds and sells the wheelchair can tell me they have no idea how much a part costs until they get a quote from the manufacturer when I can find the price on the manufacturer's website in less than five minutes?
How can the people who work at the company that builds and sells the wheelchair not try to do the repair in a day or two instead of taking weeks, even when I've paid them up front so we don't have to wait for the insurance company to approve the repair, and how can they sleep at night knowing they are leaving vulnerable people in an even more vulnerable situation?
How can the mechanic tell us that the new exhaust system is louder than the old one because we have to wait for soot to build up in the system and call the noise the "harmonics" of the system, and say it with a straight face?
Why are there so very many HUGE spiders in my yard this year?
How is it that I can look into the eyes of the neighbor's cat, tell her to get the mouse I just saw by my basement window, and the next day a dead mouse is by my front door?
How is it that the company that builds and sells the wheelchair can tell me they have no idea how much a part costs until they get a quote from the manufacturer when I can find the price on the manufacturer's website in less than five minutes?
How can the people who work at the company that builds and sells the wheelchair not try to do the repair in a day or two instead of taking weeks, even when I've paid them up front so we don't have to wait for the insurance company to approve the repair, and how can they sleep at night knowing they are leaving vulnerable people in an even more vulnerable situation?
How can the mechanic tell us that the new exhaust system is louder than the old one because we have to wait for soot to build up in the system and call the noise the "harmonics" of the system, and say it with a straight face?
Why are there so very many HUGE spiders in my yard this year?
How is it that I can look into the eyes of the neighbor's cat, tell her to get the mouse I just saw by my basement window, and the next day a dead mouse is by my front door?
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
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