Daily Archives: August 17, 2010

Hey kid, get into politics

Posted on August 17, 2010 | Leave a comment

You can do whatever (and whoever) you want, flaunt the laws you pass, sell Senate seats and come out smiling in the end! All you have to do is start as dogcatcher or sewer commissioner and you’re on a roll.

I have worked over the years with a few leaders and good folks who take care of their constituents, even helped them get elected. But as I get older I grow more cynical about our representative democracy and the people who choose to run for these jobs we pay for. These used to be part-time jobs that teachers and others had in their communities. Now they’re all full-time.

It really doesn’t pay well, so there must be something inside the system, outside the system (illegal) or retirement benefits that lure candidates. As the health insurance package doesn’t apply to Congress I wouldn’t mind being voted in a term or two and serve my constituents well just so I have a pension and great health insurance my entire life.

So, if these people could be in business they’d be making money and couldn’t afford to run for office and lose that income. Lately, many rich people have financed their own campaigns so they could be their own person in office, yeah, right. Must one be a millionaire to run for office? Or a party hack who has paid the dues through HQ work, lit drops et al.

I’ve been in government, and unwillingly in politics and today I am not looking up at giants, but looking down at a field of players even I, as an eternal optimist, would not care to coach.

Can I do something about it? Run. Away, not for office. Or try to get other responsible people to run and vote. Always vote. Apathy is rampant in our country and smart people need to do more. Democrat or Republican, Green or Tea Party, we need to step up. We don’t have kids so it’s up to me in our family. My husband has to work for a living. Cheers, Dee

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Where is Home?

Posted on August 17, 2010 | 2 Comments

My husband will always have a place to come home to, even though in the next few years Dallas will flood the land where he grew up and it will become a reservoir for the ever-growing metroplex. His folks have already bought land a few miles away but it means leaving a home they’ve built from scratch over thirty years ago. Memories of their boys growing up, Christmas trees and asparagus growing in the front yard.

Dairy cows then cattle. I’ve been in the family less than 10 years and will cry when they say goodbye to the house and acreage there. There’s a solid history there and family nearby. But one son has moved a few hours away, and the other, my dear husband, we move more often.

My parents split late in life, but we always moved every few years due to Dad’s work. I know the properties I was once attached to, but that’s what they are. They’re not homes anymore. Mom died nearly two years ago and Dad travels the world. There is no home for me to go to.

But my husband’s grandmother agreed years ago to be mine, and Jim’s parents and family are wonderful and provide a stable base for us. I contribute food, recipes, caring for anyone who visits or is in residence and being there is a retreat of sorts. Jim helps out with some farm chores while he’s there and his mother and I cook.

Where do we go from here? A realtor knocked on the door this morning with a tempting offer to buy within a few miles of where we live now. All I’ve done is promise to see it in the next few weekends. But could this be home? Could we actually buy a place here and retire someday? That remains to be seen.

Right now we like our turnkey place with a 45-day “out” clause because of the economy being what it is and has been the last couple of years. We do miss all our “stuff” in storage half a country away. I haven’t been able to look up a cookbook from my extensive collection for 18 months now! When I want ideas and proportions for a new marinade I have to check online. Oh, I made a delicious rub last year and got it online, it included smoked paprika. Can I find it again? No way.

Someday we’ll settle down, live in a nice home with all our stuff. Right now we’re more concerned with trying to get away for a long weekend as Jim has only taken one day off this year. It’s OK parents, we’ll grow up someday. Cheers, Dee

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Dreams

Posted on August 17, 2010 | Leave a comment

My parents bought a dream house when I was eight years old. It was someone else’s dream and we finished it, inside and out from moldings, drywall, real plaster, paint, dutch doors, retaining wall and swimming pool… and back steps.

All of the above requires another few posts but my point is that it was someone else’s dream house. He ran out of money so it became our dream house. We lived next door to his grandparents, who had a barn apartment 1/4 mile down the road.

What happened to them, as they even sold us their old station wagon with the property? I learned how to ride a mower and we even had our own gas tank and I learned to use both at age eight.

I’d like to think of myself as a balancing force, though my father put me through fits in property acquisition (awful house, gorgeous patio and tennis court that he made me explain to my mother) but through life I’ve always looked for the silver lining.

We’ve hit some bumps along the road but I married a realistic dreamer. If that’s not an oxymoron sue me. He’s got a degree in physics so one foot has to be on the ground, right? His mother gave me a wood carving of a hot air balloon and said I was the ballast. That’s in storage along with all our other belongings.

Now my role is more cheerleader and devil’s advocate, mostly the latter. He doesn’t see the cheerleader part I put into his gourmet meals and everything I do every day. Will we succeed? We do, every day we live life together and turn Zoe over on the bed to give us room to sleep.

My dream life may remain in the distance, his life is front and center and right now I yearn for a small cabin on a lake, even for a weekend. Dee

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Old Friends

Posted on August 17, 2010 | Leave a comment

I’ve seen a couple of older posts this evening and have talked to one old friend over the weekend, and Jim even gave her a video tour of our place. Let’s hope a visit is forthcoming.

I see posts from last February, before we even knew we were moving, and friends were kind and helped out. D helped out when Mom was in hospice, right after Hurricane Ike that devastated our community. I heard she’s now back in Canada.

We have mutual friends over the past ten years, but more that span prior years. We hosted Jim’s high school buddy and family a few weeks ago and while it’s great to have a blast from the past, current adventures are always on the “menu.”

Yes, we move according to Jim’s work, that’s a given. His baggage includes the old lady and the dog. OK, two old ladies. One cooks for him and makes sure his clothes are clean, and the other just sits there, looks cute and chases a ball from time to time. I won’t tell you which is me.

Sometimes I think of 1963 before November 22 when my mother had her hair done every week, and vacuumed in a dress, stockings and pumps. I do it in sweats, tee-shirt and crocs or have it done. Doesn’t that sound awful? I have it done. The shower and floors that my arthritis rails at, is done, every two weeks.

I get my hair “done” too, not in a teased-up, sprayed ‘do but discreet highlights and a good cut and every few months.

A few months ago I received a cookbook from my grade-school music teacher, and it’s wonderful to have people all over the country and world that I’ve studied under, lived with as roommates, worked with, and traveled with that enhance my life, as I hope I did theirs.

If more people studied the world and traveled outside of the computer, it might be a more peaceful place. Right now I meet wonderful young people who seem to be on a good path in life, but there are so many dangers now that were not there when I was a young girl. We didn’t lock our doors, as there was no need to do so. I advise young people to talk to your parents and avoid unnecessary risks. You will thank them later, OK you might thank them when you’re 30 and have two daughters.

I never thought I had a mentor. That’s because there wasn’t only one. There were so many teachers, professors, colleagues, board members and fellow advocates and they were there all the time. I just didn’t see it. Jim’s mother restores family quilts and makes her own. We have a civil war-era quilt she’s re-worked for us and a modern quilt we love and I helped her put the squares in place.

As we are in furnished housing Jim’s mother has the quilts for safekeeping. When we move and get our own furnishings out of storage the quilts, which I’ll probably have to drive to re-obtain, will let us know that we’re home, wherever that may be. And may our family and friends visit us and show them the splendor of “our” mountains. Cheers, Dee

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