Hiya,
Need to share a success story. A thing I took away from working at Nordstrom was the habit and importance of writing thank you notes. I could and should do it more, but do send them a lot and have tried to encourage my kids to do the same. They're a tough nut to crack in this regard as technology has rendered letters and such obsolete in their minds, but I'm gonna keep pushing this one cause I think it is important in maintaining the fabric of society.
The success story comes from badminton practice and I was filling in to coach the Sophomore girls. That isn't my usual batch and am not great with names in any case, so as I'm working them, I'd be constantly asking their names. Am hitting with one of the girls and say 'tell me your name again?" She tells me her name and then says, 'you wrote a note to my teacher in the 5th grade'. For years I helmed the Hot Dog booth at the school fairs and the lower school 5th graders would have kids "volunteer" to help booths to satisfy their community service hours and would typically get a handful to help. The vast majority were worse than worthless cause they couldn't give a crap, but occasionally would get a star. I had to fill out a form for each of them to confirm they showed up, and while I never ran a kid into the ground for crappy attitude cause they are 11 and most 11 year olds that are forced to do work have crappy attitudes, did write long notes about a couple of them and this girl must have been one of them. When she told me I wrote a note, had to ask if it was a positive one and she smiled that smile and said it was really good. That she remembered that clearly 5 years later filled me up with so much joy. I'm sure that most of the notes I write maybe get looked at, tossed and forgotten, but on the occasion that you see a result, know there are more where that came from? It makes a difference in peoples lives and is a free way to do something good. Take a minute to show appreciation for a job that just isn't well done, cause everyone should do their job well, but above and beyond.
I read a story in The Atlantic by a guy talking about being honest all the time. It's called What I Learned About Loved When I Stopped Being Honest". It's a bit weird and kinda long, but if you're looking for a diversion... Briefly, the author came from a family that was blunt and honest to everyone they met and how he had to learn that people don't want honesty thrown in their face at every interaction, how small talk with acquaintances is necessary to develop them into people you want to be friends with and how honesty is to be shared with the people close in your life. Am nowhere near as neurotic as this author was, but found myself nodding at some of the frustrations he had when people recoiled from his candor. I think I do this by hiding the honesty in "humor", but definitely feel it when people don't like it. Not entirely sure where I'm going with this, but wanted to get this train of thought out of my brain, which is partly what this space is about.
Rehab update time. The Boy called the other day just to chat. Smell that he was prompted by mom to call cause I have just been sitting around without a ton of adult interaction and she was sick of me talking to her about the nothing going on in my day. He's a decent dude and enjoy chatting with him. When he was visiting with us, he confessed that he let one of his buddies borrow his car while he was gone and that it ended up getting totaled. There is some family history on that topic previously shared here, but long story short, the guy that hit his car was totally at fault, admitted to being so and was a doctor with good insurance, so his settlement ended up being for what he paid for his ride in the first place. He was happy about that and said he was gonna tack his stimulus check on top of it to get something nicer. Once he got back to the States, since he already had recent experience in buying a car and knowing what he wanted, it took all of 2 days for him to be behind the wheel of a new rig newer and cheaper than his last one. I hate that that kid always falls up...not that he is lucky, but rather fear he won't know what to do when real adversity hits.
On our chat, he tells me that he got his new plates but had some issues with the screws to put them on the car, so he and his buddies went to the auto part store. He tells me he that the auto parts guy made a joke about putting new plates on a stolen car that he thought was odd. Then they are in the parking lot messing with the plates and a random guy is eyeballing them and then comes up and says that a car exactly like his was just involved in a bank robbery. I have to think he assessed them to not be bank robbers cause why would you just walk up to people like that (although this is Charlottesville and he was probably heavily armed himself). Come to think of it, this was Charlottesville and if Paul wasn't a white (looking) man along with whiter looking friends, he probably would have called the cops and they would have mobilized the troops to come "check them out".
We let the caregiver (Enez) go home on Friday. She was with me for 10 days. I learned a lot about the caregiving industry both from an economic and moral standpoint. I miss her in some ways, like no one runs to me whenever the walker rattles to help me do whatever, or to get the ice bags (or whatever else my heart desired) and them move them around my wound, or to empty my pee bottle. Yes, I used a bottle to pee when I was in bed. They don't want you getting up unattended on medication in the middle of the night for obvious reasons. I probably used if for a couple days longer than I needed to cause I can maneuver pretty well, but just rolling over in the middle of the night and evacuating the bladder is pretty damn awesome. And ladies, I can only imagine the mechanics that you have to go through and it doesn't sound nearly as nice as it is for us fellas. It is nice not having someone on top of you at all waking hours, and I no longer have to close the bathroom door to take care of my business, so while I miss her, need to get on with my life.
While our conversations weren't deep due to language barriers, I will miss her company next week when both my girls are at work/school, and there is one time of day I will miss her the most, and that is exercise time. It isn't that I need her to do them, but if the sun is out or it's warm, I like to do them on the balcony cause I get some essential vitamin D and it overlooks the park across the street. Every time we'd go out there, we would look to see who was doing what in the park. In the mornings, we'd marvel at the dozen or so older ladies doing their synchronized disco dancing and were sad when they weren't there the day it was too cold. We would watch the kids learning to ride/crash their bikes, skates unicycles in the middle of the day, and in the late afternoon, would watch the drama of the old people/caregivers.
We go out there one day and as we look down, we see one of these caregivers angrily push an old guy in a wheelchair away from the group into this flat area where the kids usually play. Even from 16 floors up, we could tell she was mad (and also from this height, my Filipina friend could tell this caregiver cohort were Indonesians). The old guy sits there for a while while the caregiver goes and sits with the other three old people and their caregivers. Slowly, old guy starts to move back. He wouldn't go far, maybe a wheel rotation or two at a time. He gets closer to the group, then moves a little bit further away, then closer still to the point he is now at arms length of the caregiver. And then he reaches out to grab her and she slaps his arm away. He then moved off and repeated the cycle, always two wheel rotations at a time, circling like a big cat around its wounded but still dangerous prey, until he was back within range. This time she stood up, took her shoe off and looked like she was gonna pound him with it. A few minutes later, all the caregiver/old folks get up (including the old guy/perv who has one and had been sitting there the whole time) and walk down the street together. We were so entertained and I couldn't wait to tell my girls about it at dinner that night.
Warning, the next paragraph is poopy talk, so skip if you find that disturbing (at your own risk of course cause I am gonna speak some colon health truth)
Lastly on rehab for now, mentioned prune juice as an elixir for constipation last time. In subsequent conversations with friends where I have tried to tout its healing properties, the reply boils down to 'whatever you say old man'. You'll listen to me one day you young whippersnappers! Anyhoo, I got back to normal gastrointestinally about a week after surgery and if you know me even a little bit, you know that consistency in that area is prized. But Betty bought a bunch of prune juice for me online (Costco naturally) and I am not one that likes to waste stuff, so came up with a new regimen where the first thing I do in the morning, even before I start the coffee, is take the prune juice bottle from the fridge and guzzle 3-5 ounces. My usual pre-surgery routine was to have a BM and hour or two after I wake up (as all healthy homo sapiens should), and that is still the case. But now, they are freaking perfect. I thought I had really healthy BMs before, but these are now not only perfect in mass and consistency, but they are now smooth in a way like a Maserati running on high octane fuel. There is a saying that goes 'you can't polish a turd', but you wouldn't need to polish these. Encase them in gold or bury them for future archaeologists maybe.
Alrighty then...my sister has been digging through mom's stuff an emailed a couple of photos of us when we were young.
Awww.
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