It's HER party.
I really dreaded calling my middle sister and telling her about the plans. While I have a lot of baggage regarding my sister and my late mother, I don’t quite seem to have the anger my other sister does. I knew she’d poo-poo the idea from the start, and she did. She thought it was ridiculous to give her a party because it would only reinforce how ‘special’ she thought she was. I tried over and over to convince her it was just a nice thing to do, no matter how crappy my youngest sister could act at times. I had little contact with my middle sister leading up to the festivities but she called me at 11 a.m. Saturday morning, 3 hours before the party. She started out by asking if carrots and ice were all she needed to bring…
**Ok it’s the DAY of the party and she’s checking in 3 hours before to see if that’s all she needs to bring. Typical.
The argument got heated, as it always does. She called me and my daughter ‘two-faced’ because we complain about the way my youngest sister treats our Dad and us. I told her I didn’t excuse her behavior but did that mean I had to never, ever do anything nice for her again? I’m convinced my middle sister thinks that’s the way it should be. Because my Mother essentially made my baby sister a miserable person who thinks the world should be her own personal oyster because of her battle with cancer, we all should punish her now that Mother is gone. I don’t buy that. I can’t understand how any slightly compassionate human being could.
In the end the party was a HUGE success! My husband and daughter were just absolutely stellar. While my sister was opening her gifts my darling husband busied himself cleaning up all the mess. Actually he helped set up most of the food as well. He’s such a kind person, he knew I was an emotional wreck and physically felt equally as bad. It’s so nice to have a support system like that. I just hope I live long enough to repay him for all the things he’s done for me. And my sweet, sometimes hard to love daughter was also a trooper. She helped me prepare the food and was there every time I needed her. And finally to my son and son in law, they had the task of picking up my ‘always hard to love’ grandmother and bringing her. We held the party at our church and there were over 30 people attending. There wasn’t much ‘missing Momma’ talk which was a relief. I just want my sister to know that life’s going to go on and only she can determine how happy that journey will be. As for my middle sister, haven’t heard a peep from her, and I don’t expect to. I know the drill. There will be no communication until something major happens. I just wish things didn’t have to be like this, but my fuse with her is extremely short. I realize that I have to accept my fair share of the blame in all of this. I just wish I had a few answers.
Just Another Day at the Office
Something else happened today in my office that has left an indelible mark on my heart and soul. I was sifting through a donated box of clothing when the first of 3 patrons of our Food Bank entered the room, the second lady was a traveling companion of the first. I went back about my business when out of the corner of my eye I saw the third person through the door, a man, on crutches. The Food Bank volunteer was busy with the other two ladies so I greeted the man and asked if I could help him. He told me he’d like to get some food and I asked him to have a seat and we’d be with him shortly. Meanwhile the Pastor came to me and we picked up on an earlier discussion. When finished the Pastor does what he so often does, he started to make small talk with the gentleman sitting a few feet away from us. The Pastor inquired about his injuries and after explaining he’d been in a serious car accident the man said, “I must look bad, real bad, Shannon doesn’t even recognize me.” And I didn’t. He took off his hat and said it’s me, Don. Don Roberts. I know my face told him exactly how shocked I was. I tried to blow it off to my ‘age’ robbing me of my memory but I know he knew.
Don Roberts has a sketchy past. Don has battled a few bottles, alcohol and drugs being the most prominent. We began to talk about the past and the present. He told me he lived in a run down motel on the outskirts of town. I knew the place well, we had several people as regulars from there. He told me he had no way to heat any food, just a small refrigerator. As we talked his eyes screamed sadness. I figured he was probably high at that very moment, most likely from prescribed pain killers to ease the pain of surgery to repair a shattered femur he’d received in the car accident. As we continued to talk, I wondered what his parents would think to see him sitting here asking for a hand-out. Parents who were a pharmacist and business owner. Parents who’d no doubt put up with an endless amount of heartache and pain from this child. Parents who had reached the end, obviously. Parents who weren’t around, but were less than 10 minutes away.
Don had gotten a ride to my office but was depending on another friend to take him home. That friend never showed up. It’s policy that we not transport our patrons, for safety more than anything, but also because we are few in numbers. But I’d already made up my mind I’d take Don back to the motel if he couldn’t find a ride. Just then my Daddy came in to take care of some of his treasurer duties. He didn’t recognize Don either, I had to tell him who he was. Then I told Daddy I was going to take him back to the motel. But Daddy swooped in and saved the day, most likely sure his 42 yr. old little girl shouldn’t be giving this High School friend a ride. He took him back to the motel but not before stopping by the store to buy him a half gallon of milk so he could eat his Corn Flakes we’d given him as well as a few bucks for a ride to a Doctor’s appointment this week and a little chewing tobacco. Don was most appreciative. He told Daddy he’d repay him some way, someday but my Father told him that the only repayment he wanted was for him to remember this day and the next time he saw someone who needed a hand, that he’d do the same for them, be it stranger or friend. Before Don had left the church I told him I was going to find him a microwave or at least a hot-plate. It broke my heart to know that he was eating cold ravioli from a can. I also told him I’d give him a ride to church any Sunday he’d like to attend, my Father extended the same offer before he left him.
I listen to people everyday tell stories like Don’s, a lot of them even worse. While I feel compassion for all of these people I am rarely touched like I was today. Don Roberts has put himself in the position he’s in, he made a lot of bad decisions, situations he could have learned from yet he chose to just repeat them. But I can’t help but feel tremendous sorrow for him. I can’t imagine how his parents lay down at night and sleep not knowing if their child is hungry. I can certainly understand why they wouldn’t be willing to give him money or even a place to live given his track record, but food? I pray I never become that hardened. And I pray for Don Roberts. Most likely Don will live out the rest of his life in obscurity, working what jobs he can just to survive. Probably alone.
In a perfect world, I would have the resources to help all the Don Roberts. Maybe I am just a dreamer. But when Don lays down tonight, his belly full, in that cheap motel, I hope for just an instant he dreams of this perfect world and maybe, just maybe Don will beat the odds.
Saaaay, CHEESE!
As any of my faithful readers already know, I am the mother to my fair share of teenagers. And, a fair share of my writing has to do with every day life with teenagers. I could write volumes about the adventures and mis-adventures we’ve experienced but I’ll spare you that.
Currently there are only two teens at home, both males, both 15. Each of the boys have a cell phone equipped with camera’s and one of them has video capabilities. No big deal, right? I’m starting to wonder. The novelty of the cameras wore off pretty quickly with both of them. The still take pics of each other and their friends from time to time but not nearly as often as they once did. And I’ll confess that I too, have been known to snap an impromptu picture…that is when I can remember I always have a camera in my purse. For instance when I took my daughter to Knoxville Tuesday I nearly ran over Coach Pat Summit of the National Championship Lady Vols while trying to retrieve my cell phone from the aforementioned purse! The little things come in handy sometimes. But I’ve just discovered the availability of these cameras are not always such an innocent thing.
As it turns out there are quite a few teenaged girls that like to take pictures of themselves in various stages of undress and send to guys, which leads to that guy sending the risqué to every boy his age with a heartbeat he knows. This in and of itself is a little alarming to me but recently I accidentally found out that the boundaries of risqué ain’t what they used to be! While scanning the pics on my son’s phone yesterday I came across a picture that only a gynecologist should be viewing. When I questioned my son he told me the girl in question was one a local girl. I was stunned. Seriously, this was a picture so intimate I would be embarrassed for my husband to see one of me! My son then went on to tell me that it’s very common, in fact he showed me some boobs that I’ve known since they were in diapers…girls I would have never imagined would do something like that, i.e. so called ‘good girls’. “It’s really no big deal Mom, seriously just about everyone does it.” No big deal? Geez Louise.
Am I just so behind the times or, God forbid, such an old fuddy-duddy I can’t see the innocence of this? Or, should I be just as shocked as I am? I asked my 20 year old daughter about it and she didn’t seem very surprised and also said, “Mom, girls today are very comfortable with their bodies and their sexuality. It’s not that big of a deal.”
Well it is that big of a deal to me! Fuddy-duddy that I am. This isn’t flirtation, this is pornography, pure and simple. The whole thing makes me wonder if we as a society and as parents have become so tolerant of everything we don’t even see what our kids are doing? Or is absolutely everything ‘acceptable’ and not a big deal in 2007? Part of me wanted to contact these parents but I was reminded of just a few weeks ago when I told my ex husband that his step-daughter had some racy photos on her MySpace page (at that point I had NO clue how ‘non’ racy hers were compared to what I’ve now seen) and he and his wife might want to check it out. Did they look at her page? Nope. They did ask her about what was on her site and of course, she denied it and she took the opportunity to take all the photos in question down. So, I talked myself out of calling any of the parents of the boobies I’d seen. Chances are they wouldn’t believe me anyway.
A word to the wise, check out what your teenager is doing. Sure you should trust them…to a point, but don’t be blind to the possibilities.
Too Pooped...
...to post *sigh*
The lovely Spring weather has just about done me in. The pollen count is off the chart in my neck of the woods and I've taken to wearing my Albuterol inhaler on a chain around my neck for quick administration! I think I've also developed a very high resistance to Benadryl (the only anti-histamine thingy I can take, that actually seems to help a bit). Between the combined buzz of the above mentioned medications and my totally insane schedule at work (remember, when you work at a church Jesus' birth and resurrection are the busiest times of the whole year), I barely have a moment to catch my breath.
I have been able to see a few great ballgames though. As much as I dislike Florida the Gators impressed the heck out of me last night. And I'm geared up and ready to watch the Lady Vols this evening.
In addition to not posting, I also haven't been reading much. My apologies to all my friends, I promise as soon as I get through this week I'll be able to get my priorities straight and start reading you all again from work, as it should be! heh.
So, what's new with you?
