I Guess "They" Were Wrong

They say it doesn’t happen twice. 

Well, maybe it does if you space it out a few years. Over the weekend, a tree in our yard was struck by lightning. My beautiful plum tree. My favorite tree. My tree that has pink blossoms in the spring. 

 As luck would have it, I was not home at the time. I was at an event out past the airport watching the sky grow dark. I was talking to people and I didn’t want to be on my phone but the weather enthusiast in me couldn’t resist checking out my weather app and noticing we were under a severe thunderstorm warning. I knew that conditions at my location were going to get a little dicey. I didn’t realize my house, an hour away, was in the bullseye as well.

 I went over to a window and took a photo of the dark clouds moving in. I can’t help myself when it comes to clouds. I am fascinated by their color, shape and size especially when a storm is moving in. I had to run outside to get an unobstructed view and the clouds were even darker but I didn’t hear any thunder or see any lightning. When I went back inside the only indication that a storm was happening were the branches of a small tree blowing violently against the windows. I noticed the rain coming down through the sheer curtains but a group of musicians practicing drowned out any other sounds.

 The storm lasted about a half an hour and then things went back to normal. I made a quick call to my husband and he told me a tree was struck. He said he was on the phone with his sister and the sound was so loud she asked him, “What was that?” 

 For some reason, I didn’t ask which tree was hit. (We have two trees in the front yard, two apple trees and my plum tree in the back.) It wasn’t until my husband sent photos that shock set in. It was my plum tree! The tree that once a year, for a very brief time, is covered with delicate pink blossoms that really pop against the dark purple leaves. I try to take a photo of the kids in front of this particular tree when it blooms each spring. The tree was perfect for climbing because it had a few branches that were low enough for small arms to reach. My youngest has even used the tree as a home gym doing pull ups on one of the low limbs. 

The tree has been home to numerous robins’ nests over the years and since the tree is right outside my bedroom window, I could hear the hungry morning tweets that often started pretty early. When I looked at the photos my husband sent, my first thought was I hope the tree doesn’t die. 

It was probably twelve years ago that our maple tree was struck by lightning during a violent late spring storm. My two older kids were preschool age and I remember I was sitting on the floor with one of them. I felt the energy travel through the floor after hearing a thunder crack unlike any other. 

I didn’t put it together at the time that our tree was hit but the next day we noticed bark was scattered all around the yard from the point of impact. Over the next couple weeks, the leaves began to fall from the tree. This normally happened in the fall but not during the height of summer. We hoped the tree would bounce back the next year but it never happened. The dead tree stood in our yard for years because I could not part with it and also due to the huge cost of having a tree cut down.

 I am thankful that I had taken pictures of the tree, in each season, which now serve as a reminder of our magnificent maple. Just last year, we planted a sapling near the spot where our beloved tree stood. My husband says since the plum tree is not a sap tree, it will not die like the maple did, but the tree has literally been cut in half. 

The clean-up has begun and I have yet to get a full view of the “new” version of the plum tree. I guess having part of that tree is better than losing it completely and maybe that is the take away here. Things change. Nothing stays the same but we have to put the past aside and embrace what is new, what is different. The blossoms may not be as numerous but hopefully they will still be there, as they have greeted us every spring since we moved into our home.

Help Wanted

I’m sure you’ve seen the signs. 

“We are short staffed. Please be patient with our workers.”

“Please accept our apologies. Temporary hours adjustment.”

“We all quit. Closed!”

Yes, it is a tough time for many businesses struggling to keep running with fewer workers. We can get into a debate about why this is happening but that is not my goal here. We can all agree the current situation is pandemic related and the problem is real. 

My favorite local restaurant just cut back their hours while praising the people that are showing up for their shifts each day. I’ve eaten there twice in recent weeks and the staff has been amazing and my gratuity has reflected that. 

I am not a frequent restaurant goer by any means and personally, while wait times have increased no matter where you go, it hasn’t affected me that much. I am patient and would never complain. Most times I am just happy to be anticipating a meal that I didn’t cook in a place that is not my home.

But my daughter works in the service industry and I know how hard she has been working for minimum wage. She is still new to the employment world and her paycheck and tips continue to be a source of great joy and spending freedom. But there is a lot that goes behind that monetary reward and the stuff she has had to endure, since she started,  gets under my skin.

Many places are hiring whoever walks through the door and appears willing to work. Sometimes the person who shows up for an interview isn't who shows up after they are gainfully employed. My daughter works with a variety of people with a variety of work ethics but for right now a body is better than nobody. 

But what has surprised me the most about her job, is the stories about customers who decide to take out their bad day, frustrations or lack of manners on a teenage kid. She has been called names, treated rudely and spoken to in ways that embarrass me to think about. I know there have always been bad apples out there but to get your panties in a bunch over a cup of coffee and a donut, I personally do not understand. 

Each day she comes home from work, she has a handful of stories about people behaving badly. The good thing about her is that she is still youthful and optimistic. She has even admitted to me, “Mom, for every bad customer there are many more good people.” I love that about her. I would have quit that job a long time ago but the camaraderie she has with her fellow employees helps get her through her shift with a few laughs and a shared bag of tips. 

Now that the procedures have changed at her place of employment, people can now go in and place their order in person. My husband and I stopped in the other day and to see her sweet, smiling face behind the covid plexiglass which filled us with pride. 

How could someone be rude to this delightful, young lady? 

Just the other day, someone threw a bagel at her. No folks, I am not making this up. When I heard this story, I was filled with rage. Luckily, the covid barrier protected her from being hit but her reaction was classic. She just laughed. Her manager took it from there and amazingly reacted much like I would have, chasing the customer down in the parking lot. 

I was thankful for this man and his protective instinct. I was happy she was able to laugh at the situation and realize there was something more going on with this person. Other customers who witnessed the incident reacted with compassion and a short time later someone came through the line and complimented her which gave her a boost of kindness to get her through the next couple hours. 

As I mentioned before, there are far more nice customers than rude and I feel this job is teaching my daughter important customer service skills. I have seen her give big tips while ordering out in solidarity of service workers everywhere. I myself have started using those tip jars that now seem to jump out at me on counters everywhere I go. 

We need to show our appreciation for the people that are showing up, knowing that not every customer is a peach to deal with. We need to especially support the young workers who are getting their first taste of being part of the workforce to encourage them to be good employees and to not get discouraged when people can’t act appropriately. 

We need to be the light to overshadow the darkness that often rears its head over a meaningless iced beverage and a sugar filled pastry

Where You Lead

I feel like I am in the movie Jaws.

I can hear the haunting music in my head.

Da-na. Da-na, Da-na, da-na….

School is starting in one week! Where did the summer go? 

As a teacher’s aide, I start back before the kids and the timing isn’t that great because my first day back is the day after my birthday and that kind of dims any excitement, I have surrounding the 47th anniversary of my Earthly debut. But in all honesty, I know it’s time. 

I like routine and structure and there hasn’t been any of that lately. It took me weeks to get into summer vacation mode and then I was swallowed by a snowball of activity and here we are. August. We've landed in my favorite of all months and I’m still trying to enjoy every last minute. 

It seems a little odd that at this age, I still get revved up about my birthday and for that I blame my parents. They always made our birthdays a big deal and that has spilled over into my adult life and has been sprinkled over my children. You get one day a year that is all your own and during the course of 365 days, that is something to covet. 

I already know where I want my birthday cake to come from and the 100-year-old bakery in McKeesport does it up right. But this year, I wanted something more. I needed something more. I had to get away. 

Sometimes my gut leads me on a path that one wouldn't normally wouldn’t take. You know that little voice in your head that doesn’t go away until you listen? Really listen. Like Kevin Costner in the movie Field of Dreams. “If you build it they will come.” My voice said, “If you book it you will go.” And that is what I did. 

It was killing me that my oldest was traveling out west performing on stages that I couldn’t see. We’ve never missed any of his performances and even though I knew this time would come eventually the Mama Bear in me couldn’t let it go. I wanted to be a part of it. And my inner voice wouldn’t let it go. 

I booked a flight to Green Bay, Wisconsin. Yes, my exotic travel destination was the cheese state, which seems so appropriate for me since I can down a brick of Havarti during an episode of The British Baking Show but don’t judge. I landed in Wisconsin and drove to the Tamburitzans show in Michigan just a few hours away. What in the world did I do?

It all goes back to the voice. It just wouldn’t go away and while the thought of getting on a plane gives me all sorts of anxiety, Facebook provided the salve I needed. I’ve got friends all over the country right now posting photos of their amazing adventures. Louisiana, Alaska, Florida, even Turkey...I added Wisconsin to the list and became the spur of the moment traveler I always knew I could be. 

For some reason, this summer needed a bookend to finish it up right. It has been an emotional journey with one kid leaving home for the first time and another preparing to get her driver’s license. There are so many rites of passage going on, I needed one too. And I am so thankful that my husband simply nodded and said, “Just go."

My favorite television show of all time, Gilmore Girls, has an amazing theme song written by Carole King. One of the lines says, ‘Where you lead, I will follow.” I know I won’t always be able to follow my kids where their life journey takes them. But when it’s possible, I want to be there. Their joy is my joy and since I helped give them their wings. I want to see them fly even if it means leaving my comfort zone and going to unknown lands. (Which for me is the cheese state.)

I’m taking 47 by the horns and making it count because birthdays and summer are things to celebrate. Although my actual birthday will involve me getting ready to go back to work, while eating the most delicious cake in the world, the days leading up to it crossed time zones and state lines helping to leave 46 in the dust. As the author Henry David Thoreau wrote in his book Walden:

“I went to the woods [Wisconsin] because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

Quitting Ain't Easy

 I am not a quitter. 

I do not quit things unless, well, there is a new dog in the house. A dog that needs lots of attention and training. 

In the past three weeks, let me tell you what I’ve quit. I’ve quit grocery shopping. I’ve quit cleaning. I’ve quit my regular bike rides. For a non-quitter, I sure made quite the list for myself. 

Our rescue dog turned out to be more than we could handle. There were some biting incidents, lots of house accidents and barking spells for no reason. There is hope for him but it won’t be because of us and that makes me sad. But coming from a newly established quitter, it was best for my family to quit this and move on. 

We really wanted this to work but after the first biting incident, which to clarify, was to protect something the dog thought was his, my kids kind of gave up. They didn’t want to be snapped at or bit and just eliminated themselves from the situation. This was hard for my youngest who wanted a buddy most of all. 

But guess what that meant? One person was taking care of the dog and that person was me. That is not what we agreed to when we first talked about this as a family.

I will be starting back to work in a few weeks, when school resumes, and everyone would be needed to help with Mac but with the new element of fear involved, that would be a hard sell. I knew what we had to do and unfortunately that was met with discontent from my husband who fell hard for the dog. 

I get it. The situation is disappointing but it is hard since my spouse and I don’t see eye to eye on this one. But I forget how much dogs mean to him. I mentioned before, growing up, he always had a dog in the house and it has been 5 years since we’ve had one. I think he was really counting on this dog being a permanent member of our family but unfortunately his couple hours of playtime at night weren’t enough to make it doable on my end. 

But here is the part I just can't wrap my head around. It seemed like this was meant to be. Everything worked out so well from the minute we saw Mac’s photo; the application process, then the meet and greet. It was going so smoothly and then his first day here was a disaster. Between the puppy accidents, and the thunderstorm barking and the countless things that were jumped on or went in his mouth. It was a long day for sure. 

The look on my youngest’s face said it all. “What is going on with this dog, Mom?” It was a shock for sure. Not the Normal Rockwell puppy moment we had all expected - the five of us sitting around the dog showering him with affection. Smiling and sharing looks of “Ahhh, this is what we’ve been missing.” By the end of the day, we were dazed and confused. That feeling has only lingered. 

For the past three weeks, we had been living in a bunker. The dog was quarantined to the kitchen and the rest of the place looked like an episode of Hoarders with everything you can imagine; totes, boxes, books piled up to keep Mac out. He is quite the jumper, coming from a trailer he shared with 93 other dogs scrounging for food. 

When we played with him in the yard, he got lots of air underneath him when he jumped for a toy, like one of those show dogs. Twice he made a run and jump for our dining room table and has made it to the top of both of our couches in seconds flat. (Hence the bunker.)

After thoughtful consideration, we decided Mac needs a family that is not us. We are always on the go and with school starting up in a couple weeks, he would be alone a lot more than he is now. He needs someone who can work with him to correct his bad behaviors and after meeting with a dog behavioral specialist, we know those are fixable but only with time. That is something this family doesn’t have much of as we approach a new school year. 

So as a “non-quitter” this experience doesn’t sit well with me but I know in my heart it is for the best. There will be an ah-ha moment I’m sure down the road but until then I will be thankful for the experience that was Mac and pray that he finds the perfect home. The adoption agency we’ve been working with has been very understanding and the dog went back to his foster mom for the time being. 

Even though we weren’t the right family for him, our hearts were in the right place and for a small moment in time, we took care of Mac the best that we could.

Uncomfortably Numb

 It was a shock. 

I couldn’t even cry. I just felt numb.

I knew it could have been much worse but still, I wished they would have taken my credit cards instead of my phone. I could have cancelled the cards. But how could I get back the videos, photos and memories that were stored on my phone? 

You see the news stories and social media posts all of the time. Lock your cars. Don’t leave valuables in your cars. 

Why I continued to do this is unknown to me at the moment. A few weeks ago, we started parking our van outside because our garage door broke. It took some time to get the door repaired but I made sure I locked the van each time I returned home and had to leave the car in the driveway. 

This was a temporary situation. Once the door was fixed, back in the garage the van went. But once we returned from vacation, this past weekend, we had so much stuff to unpack and I still had all of our recycles stored in the garage. Once again, we had to park in the driveway.

This was something we did for three days. That was all it took to create an opportunity for someone possibly down on their luck.

The evening prior, my husband was doing yard work and he moved a bicycle that needed to be repaired. He put the bike in the van so I could take it to the shop the next day. After he put the bike in the van, he forgot to lock it.

I had my wallet and cell phone in the van. My cell phone was not working and I had put it in the center console so I could take it to hopefully get repaired. It wouldn’t even turn on and the screen was cracked. Not your coveted iPhone by any stretch. 

It was a busy night and I completely forgot about the phone until the next morning. It was still dark when I went down to the van, parked in the driveway. I remember hitting the unlock button on the key ring but I quickly found out I didn’t need to. 

When I opened the door, my wallet was open on the seat. Receipts were all over the cushion. My little vacation handbag was there too which had some spare cash inside. The first thing I did was look for my credit cards. They were accounted for thank goodness but the spare cash was gone - probably about $40. 

Then I remembered the phone. 

I looked through the middle console again and again and again. I couldn't understand why it wasn’t there. Why wasn't it there? I couldn’t grasp the reality that someone would take a phone that wouldn’t even turn on and the screen was cracked. Why? 

Then I thought about the photos and memories on the phone. Graduation photos, baby videos, music performances. All gone. Plus,  all of the phone numbers I have collected over the years. Hundreds of numbers. 

My husband felt bad. Real bad. I know this because he was pacing around the neighborhood looking for my phone. He felt as though the person who took it would toss it once he/she realized it didn’t work. While he was gone, I noticed other things were missing - random things including a phone charger and both my son’s and my pool passes.

I sat in bed trying to process what had happened. My husband joined me and we sat in silence. I couldn’t be mad at him. Ultimately this was my fault. I left the items in the van. 

After what seemed like an eternity I asked, “Do you want to take another walk around the block?”

He reluctantly agreed since he had already been around the block three times both on foot and by car but off we went. 

To be honest, I don’t remember what we said to each other. We only made it to the third house past ours and my husband darted in front of me. He bent down in our neighbor’s grassy yard and picked up something black. He turned around and showed me what he had found. 

It was my phone. 

I was in disbelief. My eyes instantly let go of the roller coaster morning in a cascade of tears. My memories were back and I was overwhelmed with emotion. It was a miracle and I was elated. Only three doors down, my phone was tossed away like garbage, garbage that meant the world to me. 

I know I would not have walked around the neighborhood looking for my phone unless my husband hadn’t started pacing in the first place. I was curious why he thought my phone would be recovered.  He said he has watched too many crime shows and thieves quickly discard what they can’t use. I am so proud of my little detective. 

I really haven’t explored the notion that someone was desperate and needed money. Someone went through my personal things and took what they wanted or thought they could use. While my family and I slept, someone sat in our van and looked through our things. It is an uneasy feeling and makes me feel less secure about the neighborhood I live in and I live near a police station!

There is a lot to unpack about this chain of events but all I know is that our van has been parked outside for the last time. I will tell my neighbors about what happened to me and warn them not to leave their vehicles unlocked. It is a sad reality to know people can take advantage of others but these incidents can be prevented. 

Other than being out a few bucks, I got my phone back. This story could have had a much different ending and by the grace of God it didn’t.

Photo courtesy: Motoring Research

The Modern Mixtape

A road trip can test even the best relationship.

I have to admit I was nervous about driving across the state with just my teenage daughter. I mean, I wasn’t sure what I was going to get. With teenage girls you just don’t know who is going to show up each day. There are mood swings and attitude adjustments that often accompany the sweet exterior. 

The opportunity to head out east to visit friends came up so suddenly that I didn’t have time to think about what it meant. It was supposed to be a family of 5 trip but even early on my daughter suggested, “Hey, let’s go, just the two of us!”

“Oh, no,” I said. “We can’t do that. We’re all going.” This was not because I didn’t want to travel with my daughter but the sheer decadence of traveling, just the two of us, I couldn’t quite justify.

But then as details were becoming clearer, the boys started dropping like flies. My husband had to work. My oldest had to work. My youngest had a baseball game. I wanted to find another weekend so we all could make the journey to the Philadelphia area but with everything the kids have going on, it became evident that probably wouldn’t happen any time soon.

I realized it was a do or die chance and we ran with it. 

It would be a whirlwind trip, leave late Friday and return early Sunday. There was a lot of driving to do and to be honest after the busy week I had, I wasn’t sure if I was up for five hours on the Turnpike, in the rain.

But we packed up the van, waved goodbye, said a prayer and we were off. 

I needed time to ease into the trip so I told her to hold off on the playlist she created for us to listen to. We got a later start than I had planned which made me a little nervous but once we got to the Somerset area, I was feeling more relaxed. 

For years my daughter and I have been in opposite music camps. She is a country girl and me, well, I’m either stuck in the 60s or in an alternative 90s world. When she asked if she could put together some tunes for us to listen to, I wasn’t sure what I was going to get but she did say she would keep me in mind. That would prove to be an understatement. 

The country music she chose were songs I played when I worked overnights at a station in Virginia Beach in the late 90s. There was plenty of alternative music and even some great 60s tunes. I asked her, “Where is your music? This seems to be all my stuff.”

She explained that the world of Tik Tok, which I am only slightly familiar with, has helped broaden her music horizons. I remember a few months ago, she played a song for me she had just heard in a Tik Tok video that she really liked. It was by The Smiths, an English rock band from the 80s. I was shocked. She genuinely seemed to like the unique vocal stylings of the band’s lead singer and it took me back to when I was her age and had been turned on to the same band and the same songs. 

On the road, it was fun to have a song end and anticipate what was coming next. It appears our taste in music is more similar than I realized and it really made the drive just fly by.

As we got closer to our destination the weather took a turn for the worst. By this time, it was dark, the rain was no longer just moderate and there was a lot of road construction. That is when she switched to the soundtrack of the musical Hamilton. “I think we need this now,” she said. I couldn’t have agreed more. I was not throwing away my shot at completing our voyage.

Music has been such an important part of my life since my earliest days. It is so fulfilling to share this love with my children and experience what they appreciate and how I subtly played a role in shaping their musical palette.

After listening to her playlist, I did feel a little guilty that she left off a genre really important to her right now - K Pop, which is Korean popular music. She knows I am not a big fan but there are a few songs I can tolerate. So, from Breezewood to Irwin, with an hour and a half left, it was all Korean radio. But honestly, it wasn't that bad. It gave her a chance to try to win me over to the BTS (her favorite K-pop band) club. She even tried comparing them to the Beatles!!

Do I understand my daughter’s Korean music fascination? No. 

But maybe that will be something her daughter will figure out.

Put Me In Coach, Not

 The boys of summer are back. 

Ok, maybe it is not quite summer, with up and down temps, but you get my drift. Little league baseball is almost mid-season and oh what a season it is. 

My youngest plays on a 10 and under team and they have had some pretty exciting games. It has been a fun time for us to be back on the diamond after having no season last year. It seems like the kiddos are happy to be back too as I've noticed a little more spring in their steps. 

My husband and I weren’t sure our son was going to play this year either. It seems absurd that this kid with so much love for all sports would consider sitting out but that is where we were. The season before the pandemic was a rough one. There were a couple of incidents of being hit by the ball, once in the head and another in the foot, that left a lasting impression on this little baller. 

Things got so bad that we actually had to bribe our kid to go to his last game and even then, he ended up watching the final few innings in the stands with us. The fear was real. 

Apparently, you can’t just tell a kid that has been hit in the head to get back out there. (He was up to bat and did have a helmet on when the pitch took aim for his noggin.) It was a good thing this happened as the season was winding down because it would have made for a very long couple of months. The final two games were painful and a lesson in patience and empathy for us parents.

Our son wanted us to buy a face guard and a shin guard to help him feel less vulnerable on the field. I wanted to say, “Why don’t we just invest in a bubble? Does that sound good?”

Patience is a virtue and to be honest now that we are going through this parenting thing for the third time, I am running a little bit low. I don’t want to say I’m giving up but my tolerance is not where it once was, like when I was young and less gray.

You walk a fine line between babying a kid and getting them to toughen up. At the time, my son was eight-years-old.  The kids had just graduated from coach pitch to kid pitch. As any baseball parent knows, this is the hardest transition for kid players. You go from having nice concentrated throws over the plate by an adult to wild errant pitches by kids. It is hard to find a groove for these little ones and sometimes there is the ball to the head. 

It was scary for me to watch especially when there is an older, taller kid who has a pretty good arm already. One day I showed up to a game and asked my husband, “What is this, the World Series?” I was aghast. The pitches, it seemed to me, were at least 90 mph and my little guy was just standing at the plate, inches away from another fast ball to the brain.

With that being said, we really didn’t think our kid would play baseball again. This was very upsetting since baseball is the one sport, I know the most about and one that has a long family history. And to make matters worse, he was not only hit with a ball while batting, but he was also hit while fielding. There was no safe place for him to be. 

Luckily, the pandemic year off actually worked in our favor because cancelled seasons and months off made the memories of being hit fade just a little.  For months, there were no outside activities for our son to participate in and he really missed having these opportunities. When it came time to sign up this year for baseball, he did not put up a fight when we brought it up. 

Personally, I think the chance to be with his friends again, in a setting that wasn’t a virtual classroom, outweighed any chance of injury. Also, a year is a lot of time to grow and mature. The kids are a little bigger and even our son has grown a few inches which makes him less of a target for a crazy pitch.

Fast forward to our son’s fourth game of the season this past Saturday, his team was losing 6-2 and it was the final inning. It didn't look good for the team but starting off with our son, hits helped load up the bases. I can still hear the crack of the bat by a player I’ll call “Spanky” that sent multiple runs around the bases to home plate. 

Our kids ended up winning the game by one run and the celebrations and chants of “Spanky saved our lives!” will live on in my memory. Watching the team have fun and play their hearts out after a year off is something I don’t take for granted. Seeing them progress in their skills is fulfilling and the wins here and there, make it just a bit sweeter.