Do You Remember 1st Grade?

It's been a long weekend with the tragic news of losing our friend and classmate, Marla Fawell Fitzgerald.  It's been a weekend of reflection and recalling memories of childhood.  While doing my daily household chores and homework, I found myself thinking about Lincoln School, Mike's Meat Market, Henderson's, Dairy Queen and Lilacia Park.  These are or were landmarks and popular businesses in my hometown of Lombard, IL.

Lombard is known as the "Lilac Village" and for a good reason!  In the downtown area there is a 10 acre park that we know as Lilacia Park.  It's a gorgeous park or large garden filled with my favorite flowers, lilacs.  To this day I still visit this lovely park no matter where I live.  And then next to the park is the Helen M. Plum Library.  How many hours did we all spend there researching for high school papers or when we were little kids looking for our favorite Dr. Seuss books.  I still remember going to a viewing of a Dracula movie at the library when I was about 8 years old, and it traumatized me! 

Lincoln School.  My favorite school, and I went to several schools in Lombard as we moved around a few times when I was young.  It stood tall and had a presence about it.  At least in the eyes of a little kid.  I remember the large boulder in front of the school with all the names of veterans who died in WWI that were from Lombard.  The school itself was architecturally interesting.  It was built in 1914, so it looked nothing like any of the other schools in town.  It stood three stories tall with wide staircases.  There was a stage in the gym and an incernerator separate from the building with a tall smoke stack.  I remember when they painted the walls in the school using the colorful palette of the 70s.  Some walls were bright orange or green or purple.  And as a young child it didn't seem right to paint this old structure such modern colors.

Lincoln School is where I met Marla and we became friends.  We played in the large playground.  I remember the swings, the two sets of crossing bars, the monkey bars and slides.  We played "Mother May I", "Green Light, Red Light", statuemaker, girls chase the boys (my favorite!) and other games.  I remember one year when the cicadas arrived and we would all hang out by the back wall and play with them.  Today I can't stand the sound of them! 

I can pretty much remember the names of all my teachers, particularly at Lincoln School.  My first grade teacher was Mrs. Huzinger, then Mrs. Haugen for 2nd grade and finally Miss Furman (who later married and became Mrs. Hunter).  I loved all them!  I think Miss Furman was my favorite.  When I was in 3rd grade I was seriously injured and was hospitalized for 2-3 weeks.  Miss Furman came to visit me and gave me a handmade stuffed frog.  I cherished that gift for many years.  And I still remember receiving an envelope filled with handmade Get Well cards from all my classmates.  I could probably name about half of my classmates from those grades; Laura Tyndall, Lisa Ladd, Mike Szudarski, Betina Woolensack, Neal Alexander, Craig Oddo, Debbie Raetzke, Madge Anders, Pam Nelson and of course, Marla. 

This is only a handful of memories that I have of Lombard, and Marla.  Please share your memories!

Goodbye Marla

Last night I was scrolling through Facebook when I learned about the untimely death of an old classmate.  Marla.  I was stunned by the news, and then deeply saddened.  Tears welled up in my eyes as I tried to digest this shocking and unexpected news.  Someone who I went to grammar school with, attended birthday parties with and played with in the school playground was no longer with us.  It took me by surprise, as it did with other classmates. 

I shared the news with my husband as I needed to tell someone, and he was surprised at how hard I was taking the news considering I hadn't seen this girl since high school, some 28 years ago.  I was surprised, too.  I thought about why it struck me so deeply and I concluded that it was because she was one of the few school friends that I had who never judged you and just wanted to have fun.  She was easily likable, silly and always funny.  She was someone who you couldn't think of a bad thing to say about.

I can still recall having a birthday party for my 8th birthday and Marla was there.  She gave me a stack of coloring books for my birthday, and that's the only gift that I can remember from that birthday.  I loved coloring books!  And I even found a picture of her from that party.  She even had an adorable face, an approachable face. 

I suppose the other side to this news is that it happened to someone who's the same age as myself.  She was only 46.  I have found the 40s to be the best years of my life.  I wonder if Marla did, too.  I hope she was happily married with kids.  And I think she loved her job, but I'm not sure what she did.  I hope life was good to her.

I wish I could have had one last chance to see her and laugh with her.  But it wasn't in the cards for us.  I'm glad I did have her as a grade school friend.  I smile when I think about those days.  May God watch over her family and close friends as they say Goodbye Marla. 

The dreaded dental check up...

Today I went to see my friendly dentist.  I called a few weeks ago because of a tooth that's been troubling me.  A little senstive and it doesn't seem to like pretzels.  So I go through the usual routine with x-rays, picking away the tartar and finally the cleaning.  But while going through this immensely fun ordeal I learn that I have some issues, besides the senstive tooth.  Apparently I'm suffering from some decalcifying of a few teeth or in layman's terms, my enamel is eroding.  Bah!!  And why, you ask is this happening to me?  Too much pop!  Or do you say soda?  I guess one of my teeth, the one that is bothering me is really suffering from some scary eroding.  And it's below the gumline!  How is that possible!  Not enough flossing I was told.  Eek gads!  So I quit smoking, which probably contributed to this new issue, and now I have to give up pop!  Or at least drink water after I have a can of pop.  So there goes all my vices!  No more smoking, no more pop and no more no flossing!  It's tough being human!  And to make matters worse, I have to go back to the hygenist to have a little scraping done on the bad tooth.  Hopefully that will be the end of it, but she had to throw out there that I may have to see a periodontist!  Really?  It's tough to be human.  So to all my friends and fans with teeth, I plead with you to take care of them.  Brush twice a day.  Floss.  And watch the pop!  But now I may have a drink (containing alcohol) to ease the pain in my gums.  Hey, I have a vice!

You Can't Be Both?

The other day my husband and I were driving home from running errands and we were at a stoplight where we spotted a bumper sticker that struck up quite the conversation between us.  It said, "U Can't B Both:  Catholic and Pro-Choice".  Really?  We talked about it and looked at it from different points of view, but we still found ourselves appauled!  For me it was an insult to being an American, despite your religion.  And furthermore the freedom to just be human with your own thoughts and opinions about things.  Apparently not.  So if you're Catholic, which I am not, would you be ex-communicated if you voiced your opinion about being Pro-Choice?  Is your whole faith riding on that simple point?  Does the Catholic religion share this view of the bumper sticker?  OK, here comes the big question; why is this issue so important to people?  Now, think about it.  How does what a woman chooses to do with her body affect you?  Why does everyone need to have an opinion on this, much less why does the government have the right to toy with our bodies?  If it were men having abortions, would this still be an issue?  Probably not.  And I'm not riding on the high horse of feminism here, although I have strong feelings there.  No.  I'm just trying to figure out why everyone is in such an uproar over abortion!  I'm not saying that I condone abortion.  I don't think it should be a last resort form of contraception, but I surely don't believe that anyone should have the right to govern our bodies this way.  If scientists and doctors can't agree on when a fetus is considered a human being, then why is this such an issue.  There are cultures around the world where a baby isn't considered a human being until they're at least 2 years old!  Yes!  2 years old!

But I digress.  I guess to sum up my view, I believe abortion should be legal simply because whether or not it's legal, women will continue to get them.  I would rather have them legal where doctors have to follow regulations and perform them under the best conditions, rather than have a woman go to a butcher and suffer the loss of two lives (depending on whether you believe a 4 week old fetus is a human being).  It's simply too late to stop abortions altogether.  But for someone to tell me that I can't be one faith and believe in Pro-Choice (which stands for more than abortion), well, sorry God, but I'll choose Pro-Choice.

Music Moves Me

Music.  It's everywhere.  Everyday.  Around everyone.  Wherever you go there's music.  In the grocery store, at the office, in the mall, the doctor's office, in your car and even when you're placed on hold!  Music is in our lives all the time.  But have you ever thought about how it affects you?  How it moves you?  Lifts you or brings you down.  Pretty powerful stuff. 

Music has always been an intergral part of my life.  As a teenager I had a pretty large and diverse collection of albums.  Yes, albums.  Now I'm giving away my age!  I remember how certain songs coincided with my feelings (and it still does!).  A new song would play on the radio that perfectly reflected how I felt about a certain boy.  That song would become the theme song of my life!  And then when that boy didn't know that I existed, a new song would reflect my broken heart.  Sometimes when I hear those songs I can go back in time and relive it.

When I'm driving I always listen to the radio.  I have found music to be almost therapeutic when driving, especially during rush hour traffic.  There have been numerous occasions in my life where music has been helpful.  About five years ago my first husband suddenly passed away.  Needless to say I was devastated and grief stricken.  The first year was the most difficult.  Just getting through the day was challenging, especially during the first couple of months. 

The grief and pain overwhelmed me.  I was drowning in sorrow, and even anger.  I turned to my friends and family on a daily basis, as they offered support to me.  But sometimes talking wasn't enough.  Music.  Listening to music gave me hope.  If even for a short time, it painted a picture of sunshine and made me feel good.  More than anything, music gave me the best counseling.  It lifted my spirits and propelled me to go forward.  But while music could be uplifting, there were plenty of songs that would remind me of my dearly departed husband, and there the tears would follow and flood.

Sometimes I think we forget the power of music.  Its ability to lift us, move us, inspire us and just make us feel good.  Recently I just thought about how music helped me get through those first few horrible months after Mark died.  I even remember what I listened to; Basia.  She's a contemporary artist that sings mostly jazzy pop songs, and when I listen to her, which is frequently, I still feel that hope and inspiration take over me and bring a smile to my face.

The 2 week notice

No, this isn't a movie review of that pathetic movie with Sandra Bullock.  It's about a professional courtesy that we all know and use at some point in our professional lives.  When you find a better opportunity or it finds you, you give your current employer a nicely written letter explaining your notice of resignation with a two week notice.  A notice that offers an employer an opportunity to find a replacement for your position or at least a chance for you to train them on your job.  Over the years I've given this notice to several employers and saw it through until my last day.  The day you close a door and open a window to a new job.

Times are a' changin'!  What was once considered a professional courtesy is no longer needed.  Well, at least that's been my experience in recent years.  Last week I gave my employer my notice.  They were totally understanding and truly sorry to see me go.  And I was sorry, too.  For a day or two it seemed that I would be working through my last two weeks as discussed, but on Thursday they asked me to leave on Friday or even Thursday.  Huh?  I was under the impression that they still needed me until they found a replacement, at least that's what my supervisor had voiced to me.  Maybe I need to clean my ears?  I could swear that they wanted me to stay longer than the two weeks!  I'm so confused.

Another job was the same way.  I gave them my "notice" and they asked me to leave at that moment!  It seems the two week notice is becoming more of an option for employers.  Maybe employers are becoming more sensitive and feel offended and hurt when their employees give them their final notice.  Maybe it's just unbearable to see them go.  Maybe.  Maybe not. 

Be warned my employed friends!  Plan a vacation in that two week span.  Maybe take the kids to the Dells or Disney World.  Or that week long fishing excursion in the deep woods in Canada.  Or paint the kitchen and work on that eternally planned and imagined vegetable garden.  As your employer may just lead you to the door!

An amazing weekend opens new doors for an amazing future...

Yesterday I returned home from an enriching, eye opening and inspiring weekend at a writer's retreat in the beautiful and quaint village of Saugatuck, Michigan.  Not only did I learn about writing and how to achieve success as a writer, but I connected with other fellow writers who gave me just as much, if not more, inspiration to be a writer, a successful one, a published one!  I felt so much at home at the B&B where we stayed, where we connected, where we took our futures to the next level.  It's hard to explain exactly what I felt or how I felt, but it was good.  Damn good! 

Everyone I met at this retreat had a great story to share with us and a great voice to do it.  Some were funny, some were deep and introspective, some were sweet, but all were phenomenal.  It was the perfect combination of people.  I expected everyone at this retreat to be from the area or the region, but it was a national convention!  Some were from Ohio, Nebraska, Texas, New Jersey and a few from the area.  Each one had a unique voice and a great story to tell.  Some brought us to tears and some brought themselves to tears with their stories. 

The author, Wade Rouse, who led the retreat gave us our first writing exercise Friday morning to write about what we fear most to write about.  Anything.  No limits on subject matter.  So many thoughts ran through my head.  Should I make it a funny fear?  An emotional fear?  A career fear?  Yikes!  What do I fear most to write about?  I decided to write about my fear of how happy I am with my husband.  I figured it was sickening enough and I feel awkward sharing it sometimes as it does seem unreal how happy we are.  WHy not?  So I did.  When I read it to the group, I was thrilled at the feedback that I received.  I still have this absurd issue that I don't possess a talent to write well.  But in fact I do write well, or at least have a way to express myself that is felt and understood by others.  As we discussed my piece it came out that I was writing about my guilt of being happy after the death of my first husband.  I didn't even think about that when I was writing it, but it's true.  For the longest time I did feel guilty about being happy again.  As if I was betraying my dead husband.  Sounds ludricous, but it's so common with widows and widowers.  You feel bound by this loyalty to them, and yet you want to move on and have moved on, but the guilt, survivor's guilt, holds you back.  I'm pretty much past that, but I suppose it's still there, a little bit at least. 

Wade, the author in charge, gave me positive feedback and liked the simplicity of some of my statements in this piece.  He even said that I could really expound on it greatly.  That piece alone has a lot of mileage on it.  I felt good.  REally good after that.  Yep, I am on the right track! 

I have to confess that the other day I was looking for my grade for an assignment for one of my classes.  Sure enough, the teacher had graded it and even commented on it about how good it was.  So I opened up the assignment to read it and discovered that it was indeed a well written paper.  I say that because I don't remember writing it like that and I was impressed at how well I had composed it.  I would've given it a good grade, too!

So here I am starting my first blog to see where this writing thing can go, all thanks to Wade, and my beloved and devoted husband, Brad.  More than anything, I want to be a successful writer.  No, I'm not aspiring to become another Nora Roberts or even J.K. Rowling, but successful enough where I don't have to work another day in an office making money for someone else and not feeling any gratification from it.  I returned to work today and the motivation factor really started to kick in.  Write, write, write!