A sound idea

Wed, 16 May 2012 09:08:37 -0500

It’s difficult to sleep-in once the weather is nice enough to leave the windows open during the night. The birds start welcoming the new day just as the sun starts to come up over the river. Today, sunrise was at 5:43. Their singing is a pleasant alarm, unlike the barking of dogs or screeching of cats that sometimes awakens me before the sunrises or prevents me from going to sleep in the first place, but the fresh air is worth the noise.

If I lie in bed for awhile, I can even hear the voices of walkers out early as they pass the house. My, they are chipper for so early in the day.

Sounds sometimes identify a person or an occurrence as easily as being able to see. I remember when I taught school, I could often peg the people coming down the hallway by the sound of their walking. Our hard-working principal had so much to get done she clipped along at record speed in her high-heels to a gait recognized by all.

Years ago, I had a student who sang softly whenever he walked, something he couldn’t seem to help. I could tell when he was arriving in the morning by the happy tune that got gradually louder as he approached the classroom. It was always a welcome sound.

When I visit friends or relatives in the city, I have trouble getting to sleep with all the sirens and traffic noise. One family lives directly below the “L” train tracks in Chicago. I don’t know how they stand the roar when the trains go over. However, they say they are so used to it, they don’t even notice when a train passes. We will be in the middle of a conversation, and they automatically stop in midsentence when the roar begins. Then they pick up right where they left off a few seconds later when the noise is gone.

I can relate a bit. People who visit me notice when the train goes through town or a barge locks through a block away. I am so accustomed to both noises, I wouldn’t even notice if they weren’t pointed out to me.

Another sound often heard is the beeping when a truck or piece of heavy equipment backs up. It is a great safety feature of new machinery.

I have to laugh to myself when I hear the continual beeping of a car horn, signaling that the alarm was set off accidently, often by children who got a hold of the key ring.

Some sounds trigger bad memories or feelings. Hearing crying in a hospital room, yelling and swearing between couples or at children, a local church bell ringing signifying the death of a member or the screech when someone slams on the brakes, making me cringe as I wonder if the car stopped in time to avoid hitting anything.

Many sounds are a joy to hear, such as children laughing, most any kind of music, food being taken out of the oven and a prayer at a family dinner. And nothing brings more pleasure applause.

Sometimes when my little ones were working hard in the classroom, I would say to them, “Listen to the strange sound in here. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Some of them would look up with puzzled expressions and one would finally say, “Miss Johnson, I don’t hear anything.”

“I know,” I would reply. “Ah, the lovely sound of silence.”

The Queens of King Street

Wed, 9 May 2012 09:56:31 -0500

I lived on King Street from the day I was born until I left to try life on my own. It was a typical small town street of the 50s and 60s, lined with mature trees, high curbs and husbands kissing their wives good-bye as they headed to work. There were swing sets, sand boxes and bicycles in the yards during the spring and summer, leaves piled high in the fall where youngsters jumped and snowmen, forts and sleds built in the winter. Life was good for the most part in the 600 block of the street, and there were some ladies who made it even richer.

Next door to my house lived Mrs. Fritz. She was older than her husband and had sold the coffee shop she once owned, so when he left for his job as janitor at the college in town, her days were pretty well free once she did her breakfast dishes and a little housework. Her kitchen floor had linoleum pattern that looked as though confetti had been thrown on it, and she would laugh and ask me to sweep it up each time I visited her. Our family exchanged daily newspapers with the Fritzes, and I would either run our Oelwein Daily Register over to them or Mrs. Fritz would visit in the morning with the Des Moines and stop in to empty the coffee pot and have a few cigarettes with my mom.

I would sit and listen to her share stories as Mom did the daily baking and cooking, sometimes taking a break to sit with her at the kitchen table. She shared tales of her two grown daughters and her grandchildren, even bringing their letters to read to us. Her older daughter never married and worked as a stewardess, now referred to as a flight attendant, and later as a recruiter for the airline. It sounded like such a glamorous life to me. She also talked of her younger daughter who was married and had a family.

When I would take the papers to her, she would invite me in to play with her “shaggy” dog and sing with her canary. She let me take care of these creatures when she and her husband went on vacation and once bought me my own bird, Fritzi, as a gift.

Effie lived across the street and south a bit. We would walk the railroad tracks east of town to the dump to look for Hilex coupons, or we might head west to throw rocks off of a bridge across the Volga River.
There was always a bowl of popcorn from the night before setting on the big register in her house, and she let me have all I wanted. She would let me help her fix lunch, and I loved to beat the steak with the meat mallet, making little indentations with each hit. I had a standing invitation to eat dinner with her and her husband Eldon when he came home for lunch.

He ran the creamery at the end of King Street, and Effie and I would sometimes visit him. In the middle of the main room was a huge barrel that made butter. I would get to stick my finger in to have a taste when they opened the heavy door, enjoying the taste that was the same as the smell of the whole creamery. Effie would let me push myself along on the rollers where the milk cans were sent out to the trucks and spray the water hose all over to clean the floors.

Across the street and to the north one house, were Mrs. Parker and her grown daughter, Dorothy. Their home was filled with fancy antiques. At the top of the steps in the upstairs hall was a porcelain doll with a black velvet dress sitting in a small rocker. Dorothy would remind me each time, “She is too look at, not play with.”
Most days were normal when I visited, but sometimes Dorothy would, as my dad used to refer to it, “go off the deep end.” One of the most eccentric things we did was paint red toenails on the claw feet of her bathtub, but to a little girl, it was wonderful fun.

I remember she had episodes of mental illness, but it never affected her patience or kindness. Every few months Mrs. Parker would call and ask Mom to drive Dorothy to Independence to stay at the state mental hospital there. Dorothy would be waiting with a small suitcase in her hand and her pocketbook over her arm. When she was ready to come home, Mom would go get her again. I was often able to ride along.

Agnes lived a short walk away, across our backyards. It was a big old house with a huge staircase in front and another off the kitchen. She would let me walk up one, through the upstairs and down the other. It fascinated me that a house could have two sets of steps going to the same place.

Agnes made the best chocolate chip cookies. When she was done baking, we would sit and play Cootie or Monopoly and eat them with milk. Her mother lived with her for a few years, and she didn’t say much but seemed to enjoy watching whatever Agnes and I did.

When she was done baking she would always scrub her kitchen floor. Not being a very neat person even at the young age of five, I was amazed how she was always dressed in her best to do housework, only rolling down her gartered stockings so she wouldn’t wear holes in the knees. She was always clean and neat, even after her jobs were done.

I smile to myself, remembering all the simple, ordinary things we did, realizing now that it is not so much what we did that was important, but that it was the time we spent together in conversation and friendships which knew no age, that have lasted in my heart. And although none of them wore crowns with sparkling gems, they were all jewels. They have all been gone for many years, but I still wish a Happy Mother’s Day to my queens from King Street. They were an important part of my childhood kingdom.

Neverland

Wed, 2 May 2012 09:17:04 -0500

In the stories of J.M. Barrie, Neverland is the home of Peter Pan. It has taken on the meaning of a place of fantasy where people never grow up. I will call my Neverland the place where people go when they say that certain things will never happen to them or they will never do certain things, and then guess what? It is often said in criticism of others, which makes these adamant predictions all the more foolish to say.

I think we all have done this, and we often end up eating our words. We have the best intentions, but things happen in life, we all are human and there are no guarantees. Here are a few “nevers” that I have witnessed.

“My child will never…” This may be the riskiest “never” of all. No matter how wonderful a person is as a parent, no matter how many books have been read on parenting and how hard a parent tries, kids are going to make mistakes. Sure, if you let your kids go undisciplined, submit them to abuse of any kind or there are alcohol or drug problems in the family, chances are greatly increased there will be trouble. But things happen that a parent never expects or maybe never knows about, even with “good” kids. Many people have embarrassingly had to eat their words when it comes to their offspring.

“I will never regain the weight I lost.” This has caused me to eat my words, and anything else I can get a hold of, too many times to count. I recently heard a lady say it, and I wanted to stop her before the words got out of her mouth. I hope she never does add the pounds back on, there are a few who don’t, but I wanted to prepare her as it is a constant battle that can be won, but it requires daily attention.

“I would never have an abortion.” Wow, I know this is a controversial one, but I have heard it a lot. I have also known or read stories of women who have rationalized because their own cases were different in their own eyes. They were raped, they were too young to have a child, they had health concerns such as diabetes, etc. Whether you are antiabortion or prochoice, people sometimes change their point of view when an unplanned pregnancy happens to them or someone they are responsible for. Are there people who would never terminate a pregnancy? Yes. Are there those who profess they would never, but when they are presented with the choice themselves, go back on their never? I have known them.

“I would never own a …” This is one I have had to retract many times, especially with the advancement of technology. The first device I was adamant about not owning was an answering machine for my telephone. Years ago, I would get so aggravated when I’d call someone and get their machine, I would refuse to leave a message. Then I progressed to at least leaving my name and number. Not long after that, a friend gave me one as a present. I reluctantly let her hook it up to join the modern age. But I will never have voicemail where people can’t tell if they have the right number because it is a generic voice.

I said the same thing about a cell phone. I thought they were an unnecessary bother. Now I don’t go anywhere without mine.

“I would never have my parent or spouse in a nursing home.” This is another tough one. Although we all hope that our loved ones would age gracefully and leave this world without any illnesses, failings or disabilities, it often doesn’t happen, and they are not able to stay in their own homes. It is a hard decision, but one that more and more people have to face.

“I would never vote for a political candidate who stepped out on his wife or ran negative campaign commercials.” I have had to change my mind on this one for sure. Unfortunately, I wouldn’t have many candidates for whom I could vote if I hadn’t.

Paris in the springtime

Wed, 25 Apr 2012 09:51:26 -0500

It is 3:30 a.m. and I am waiting for an email from my only sister, Harriet, and my only niece, Meagan. They are supposed to be landing in Paris any minute now.

It isn’t like my sister to travel somewhere for pleasure. She has traveled within the United States for her job, and she and Meagan would occasionally go on vacations when Meagan was a girl, but she is usually a homebody, not much for adventure.

Meagan, on the other hand, has traveled quite a lot. She has been to London, Mexico and Brazil. Those are the places I can recall right off the top of my head.

I know Meagan had talked about Paris for a long time, but I thought she would end up going either by herself or with some friends. Although there is nothing my sister would rather do than spend time with her daughter, I just couldn’t imagine it happening.

Well, it has, and I am so happy for them. Harriet just made the decision one day shortly after Christmas and booked the flight. My sister is far from rich, but she has worked hard all of her life and has put money away. The trip isn’t cheap, but yet it isn’t as expensive to fly across the Atlantic as I had imagined.

I remember years ago something like this happened to the character Mary Richards on the old Mary Tyler Moore Show. She had always wanted to go to London, but had made excuses for years why she couldn’t, or shouldn’t go. One day, she just made a reservation and went. She only stayed a couple of days, but she was ecstatic when she returned.

Why do we put off doing what we want to do in life? I know money is often the reason, and that can’t be helped in some cases. We make excuses to avoid things we don’t want to do, but I think we do the same to avoid things we want to do, also. It doesn’t seem to make sense on the surface, but after thinking about it a while, maybe it does.

Are we afraid the experience is not going to be as exciting as we anticipated? If it is a new undertaking, such as a job or special project, are we afraid of failing?

Or what about stopping something we are not happy doing? Are we so caught up in the routine that we can’t force ourselves to make a change? Is it easier to continue with the way things are than to face new challenges or opportunities in life?

Maybe we continue the status quo because we are afraid we will “let people down?” We know our decisions in life often affect others, and we know that if we make changes, it will force them to accept change as well.

Obviously, there are no clear answers. As with many aspects of our lives, it is easier to ask the questions than to figure out the answers.

My three articles in this week’s Press deal with this topic in some way. They are about people who made big decisions in their lives to make big changes. They jumped in and were ready to face the consequences of their actions, whether good or bad.

Lori Barry had always dreamed of building a new house from the bottom up. She and husband Mike took the plunge and are so happy in their new home.

Lisa (Hankes) Weddel knew it was a big risk to pull her son, Bennett, out of school and educate him at home. It took sacrifice and time on her part, but she knew she had to do something to help her boy succeed. Luckily, it has worked out so well for both of them, but what if it hadn’t? It still would have been worth the chance to try. She would never have known if she hadn’t tried.

The man who shared his story about alcohol addiction and how AA has saved his life, took a big step, too, actually 12 of them. He could have continued drinking, which at the time seemed the easier thing to do. But he decided he wanted to save himself and his marriage, so he agreed to go into treatment, and has been sober for years.

Some of us have big decisions to make that are accompanied by big consequences if we fail; others have smaller risks to take. Either way, we need to give change a chance.

I have heard the saying, “Life is too short to drink cheap wine.”

As for my sister and niece, I just received an email saying they had landed safely and were off to see the city. I was grateful to hear they were safe, and I am proud of my sister for jumping into a new experience. “Life is too short to not go to Paris.”

I may not ever make it to France, but I hope I will take more chances and be open to new experiences as they present themselves. And I hope I will have the nerve to say no to things I know aren’t for me. How about you?

Patience

Wed, 11 Apr 2012 14:14:05 -0500

I was standing in line at an area restaurant waiting to order take-out. It was lunchtime so there were quite a few people in front of me. A woman came through the door and got behind me to order. She had only been there about 15 seconds when she started complaining about having to wait.

“Why in the world don’t they have another person taking orders,” she said, not really speaking to anyone in particular, yet obviously wanting someone to join her in being upset.

I started to agree, more to make conversation than anything else, but stopped and thought a second. Instead, I just smiled at her and made sure I was extra patient with the young man who waited on me as he would have to deal with her wrath next, and it didn’t appear there would be a lull in his day anytime soon.

We have become a mass of impatient people. I am as guilty as the woman who was behind me in line that day. I find myself often feeling agitated with waiting and I have to make a conscious effort to relax and realize that everything can’t happen instantly.

We are used to instant coffee, instant tea and instant cocoa. Mashed potatoes can be made instantly and messages can be sent on instant messenger.

Is impatience a characteristic that has been fed by all the new technology? I think at least part of it is. We no longer have to get up out of our seats to turn the television to a different channel. For years we have been able to push buttons on the remote and go from one show to another in no time at all. A friend of mine recently bought a new set. There is a short pause before the picture appears when he switches channels, something his old one didn’t have. I even noticed he was unhappy with that second or two wait.

Our computers let us access most anything we want in the time it used to take us to decide where we might find the information. I now get frustrated when the computer seems to be running slower than usual and I have to wait a few extra seconds.

Cell phones may also be the culprits in conditioning us to expect things instantly. We can contact people from anywhere by just pulling the phone out of our pockets. I haven’t had to look for a pay phone in years, and I couldn’t find one if I tried. If we are “too busy” to actually talk to the person, all we have to do is press a few buttons and text. When we don’t get a reply sent back from the receiver right away, we become impatient.

Impatience can be seen on our streets and highways. There is a stop sign in my yard. I think more people either don’t stop or slide through than the people who come to a complete stop. Everyone is in such a hurry, and I am as guilty as anyone at times. I have had people so eager to check out at grocery stores that their carts hit me as they keep moving closer and closer, evidently thinking that will hurry things along.

The same happens in food lines at receptions. Some people literally reach in front of me to grab their share. I know I look like I might take quite a bit of food, but I promise I will leave plenty for them.

I have an answering machine that kicks on after only four rings. However, that must be too long to wait for some people as I get many hang-up calls. Or maybe their messages were nasty and they don’t want their voices recorded.

Let’s try to be more patient with each other and with our attitudes toward life. A well-known saying states, “Good things come to those who wait.” Another says, “Anything worth having is worth waiting for.” I hope my colleagues at The Press remember these adages as they wait for me to finish this weekly column.