Fright Night

Posted on January 26, 2016 by Bob Martin

The fun thing about writing is that it causes you to look back at your own life. So many of my teachers and professors always taught that you write what you know. So tonight is a little insight into who I was at one time – a silly teen. I am going to challenge anyone who reads this to think back when you were a teen and let us know your weirdest experience when babysitting. That’s right babysitting. Growing up in a small town, both guys and girls babysat. Most of mine was done for relatives, but there are two kids that I babysat for that made life interesting and weren’t related to me. I will write about them another time. This post is about one house in particular that taught me teenagers don’t learn lessons the easy way.

The house belonged to my cousins. It was a nice ranch styled house. Friends and relatives entered through the garage to the kitchen door. As a matter of fact, I cannot remember anyone using the front door. You entered through the kitchen area; I seem to recall a table for breakfast. Just outside the kitchen was the living room and small dining room (again not positive about where people ate). Then came the hallway. The hall led down to three bedrooms. The older child, their son, had the first bedroom. Then at the end of the hallway you found the master bedroom on the right and the youngest’s, their daughter, on the left. The odd thing was that in the girl’s bedroom (she was maybe two at the time) stood a door to outside. I think it was for a mother-in-law or something. While the door remained lock at all times, I knew it was there.

The front wall of the living room was almost entirely window. I never knew if it was one very large piece with wooden slats breaking it up or if it was multiple windows. Regardless everyone walking by could see into the living room. The back wall had French doors. While the doors opened onto the backyard, I was never sure just how hard it would be for someone to get back there and stare into through the windows.

Now I already admitted that I was not fast when it came to learning lessons as a teen. I had a habit of getting the kids off to bed early, turning off the lights, and turning on the Friday Fright night. Why? Why? Why? I would scare myself to death almost every time I babysat. I loved it.

One of the nights in question, I had help with the scary part. I remember that the older cousin really wanted to stay up and watch the scary movie with me. With his parents’ permission, he had stayed up once or twice when the movie was not all that scary. He loved them almost as much as I did. This night, however, it was supposed to be a great Dracula feature. I sent him off early to ensure that he would be asleep when the movie started.

As with every other night in which I was paid to watch movies, I popped popcorn, grabbed a soda, turned off the lights, and hit the couch. I settled in for the movie. It did not help that the wind had picked up outside. Twigs and leaves hit the window intermittently. I pushed deeper into the couch. The wall of windows on my left, the French doors on my right. Dracula was doing well on adding to his numbers. Then it happened…..

During one of the quiet parts of the film, from far down the hallway, I heard a bang. I waited patiently to hear if other noise would follow. Another bang and what sounded like…….well……it sounded like a voice. In my mind, one thing popped. The door to the outside in my younger cousin’s room. What if someone had gotten in? All these different possibilities started rushing through my head. I, being a teen, actually asked myself, “Should I check?”

“Hello?” Yep it was a voice. It was faint – almost a whisper. Great it moved from intruders to a ghost. I stood up. I started down the hall. I remember checking on the boy. I knew that neither the noise nor voice had come from his room. I did this to just build some confidence. I moved toward the end of the hall – toward it.

Part way down the hall, I reached the light switch. I flipped it. Nothing. I flipped it the other way. Nothing. Great a burned out bulb. I pushed my back against the wall opposite the bedroom with the outside door. I now stood opposite the door. I peered into the dark. I couldn’t see much. I could see the crib, but not if my cousin still slept within. “Hello.” The voice spoke but I could not see a body.

I reached into the master bedroom. I found the switch and flipped it. A light came on. Unfortunately, it was a little light on a dresser. What the heck? At least I had a little light. I moved into the center of the hall looking into the dark room. Then I saw it or rather her.

There sitting in the corner of the room was my little cousin. She had crawled out of her crib and decided to crawl over to her dolls and stuffed animals. She sat there talking to them as if it were the middle of the day. She giggled when she saw me.

The two of us went back into the living room. I changed off of Dracula to some comedy. When she finally fell back asleep, I carried her back to her crib. I left the light on in her parents’ room just in case. The rest of the night went without further incidents.

I questioned my cousins upon their return. How could they not tell me that she could get out of her crib? In their defense, it was the first time – at least that is what they say.

This house had many other nights like this for me including one New Year’s Eve that combined a deer hanging in the garage and a news story about a baby sitter being accidentally shot by the children. I moved a chair into the corner that night and waited without moving for the parents to get home.

It is funny. I still love to try to scare myself with horror films. My wife isn’t crazy about them, so I am limited to viewing them on the rare occasion in which she is out late or when I travel and have to stay overnight in a hotel. As a teen, I do not think that I ever learned to not set myself up for self-fright any time I was hired to watch TV – I mean babysit. It was a great way to spend a Friday night.

There you have it. Just one little trip down memory lane. Thanks for meandering with me.

Posted in family, Fright, small town, youth | Tagged , , | 5 Comments

Will We be a Burden on Our Children?

Posted on January 25, 2016 by Bob Martin

11425760_10152921958525509_2499385566717248182_o

 I think I am ready to write about this topic. At first, I thought I avoided these words in order to not upset my wife. Then I found an excuse in not knowing how to actually take the thoughts and put them to paper. Finally, I decided that a certain amount of time had to pass before opening this box of feelings. In the end, I was the both the reason and the excuse for not putting down words that would tell others of this subject. The topic is the passing of my Mother-in-Law this past summer.

Before I break into the true subject of this posting, I feel that I need to pay homage to this wonderful person that left us. Jeanne was a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a great-grandmother, a nurse, and a person who cared about others. Even though my wife and I met late in life, I had the pleasure and fortune of knowing Jeanne for nine years. Nine great years, but still it was not enough.

My wife often talks about how her mom studied nursing and worked in the field for a num1093817_10152921952190509_4244332736464805251_ober of years before giving it all up to take care of her family. She had the chance to be there for her kids when they came home from school every day. She was there when her kids needed her. My wife and her brothers were lucky to have her.

My Mother-in-Law was the practical one; this may have come from the nursing. She wanted to know what was what and move on with life. I can remember taping her for a film I put together for her and her husband’s 50th wedding anniversary. She stated the facts of things. I remember once she said all she had to say, she asked, “Is that it?” She didn’t really want to be filmed.

Now don’t get me wrong, she was practical, but she had a great sense of humor. I recall within the first couple of days of meeting her (she and her husband flew out to visit), I said something to her with a tinge of sarcasm. Before the last words left my lip, this 75-year-old woman was sticking her tongue out at me. That was my introduction. She didn’t tell jokes, but she had a sense of humor. Jeanne also loved music. André Rieu and Christmas. She would sing along to both all the time. She was a wonderful woman.

However, this piece is only partially about her. It is also about being an adult-child and living with the fact that every day your parent(s) is/are getting older. In other words, it is about life. It is about having to come to terms with how the world works.

I lost my dad when I was 15. While it was not something quick, I was a child and kept away from much of what was happening with him. The adults dealt with life. Now I am the adult – no matter how much I try to run from it. Now it is up to my wife and me to deal with life while trying to block it from our daughter.

My mother is going to 78 this year. 78? I thought my mom was old at 40. If that is the case, I do not want to put a word to her age now. The thing is that when we lost my Mother-in-Law, I could not help but start to worry about my own mother. There is a difference of seven years between the two, but once you reach a certain age – those differences seem to be minor.

For the most part, my mother is in decent health – not great, but not horrible. She is a person in her late 70s. Like Jeanne, she was a nurse and gave it up to be at home with my brothers and me. She became a mom to so many when she and my dad ran a drum corps.

For years, we have dealt with a memory that is not as sharp as it used to be. We have dealt with knee surgeries, a pace-maker, and other assorted issue. We have to stop more often when we go out to the mall or other places. We have to accept that fact that age is running its course. But we don’t – do we? We don’t want to accept that if we are lucky enough to still have our parents that there will come a day – sooner now than it was a year ago – where we will have to say our good-byes. It is not easy.

In the meantime, we also have to deal with how the years react to our elders. I have a number of friends in the same boat as I am. We lean on each other. We support each other. We listen to one another. I am coming to understand that, while people wish aging wouldn’t happen, it is not the age that bothers people. It is the seeing the people who raised you, were your rock, need to turn the tables and have you be there rock. It now becomes difficult to think that these frail people used to carry us, lift us on their shoulders, wipe out tears, and support us in all ways. They gave us unconditional love.

In the end, we do it. We take care of our parents. We will support them both physically and mentally. We will do what is needed. We will be there.

Even all of this is not my truest fear. My fear is that our daughter will one day end up having to do the same for us. I will be 60 before our daughter even reaches her 20s. My fear is that while she should be having the time of her life in her early 20s, or starting a family not much later, that I will be a burden on her. I have thought about this quite a bit in the last six months. What is interesting is that I, and others I know, do not look at what we do for our parents as a burden, yet we look at ourselves as possibly becoming just that.

I am afraid of aging. I am not afraid of getting old. I am actually looking forward to it – retirement. I look forward to the days when my wife and I can do as we please. I am PATIENTLY waiting to be a granddad. I want to see what that part of life will hold for me. I fear aging. I do not want to get to the point where others have to do for me. Having to say good-bye to a wonderful woman has caused me to worry about what happens when it is my turn.

So that is where I meandered tonight. Thanks for walking with me.

 

Posted in death, family | Tagged , | 2 Comments

Is It Bullying?

Posted on January 24, 2016 by Bob Martin

Bullying written on a wooden cube in a office desk

As a person who works in education, I am very aware of bullying and how much it can damage a person especially a young person just learning who he/she is. Bullying is not limited to kids – adults can do it as well. Hollywood loves to make films showing how a bully in his/her teen remains one as an adult. I will say it is nice to see how much more aware people are of this problem today than when I was a kid. My only concern is that this term may now be overused and misused. I fear that we are getting to the point that anything negative or honest is construed to be bullying.

Less than a month ago, I started writing again. While I dream that writing could be my full-time job – that will happen when Ellen reads my blog and then asks me on her show – I know that for the most part it will be a blog that finds a niche. I write because it is an outlet for me. I post in hopes that possibly my writing may lift another person’s spirits.

I knew going into this endeavor that I would not please everybody, and it is impossible to have every reader agree with what you write. Yet, I decided to start writing just the same. My teachers, parents, and other adults told me on many occasions that this is the way life is. For a self-diagnosed “people-pleaser” this is heard, understood, but almost impossible to accept. Even with this having been beaten into my head I have attempted both acting and writing – quite possibly the two most publicly criticized fields.

There is no job, today, that is not open to comments and criticism. Social media has made this even more possible with anyone with a Facebook account able to write about their good or bad experience at the store, in a restaurant, or on the street. Article after article speaks about how the anonymity of the internet increases the feeling of safety while making negative comments. People write how we have become a society of bullies due to the internet. Is this true?

The internet has also given the chance for something small to take off. People write blogs and once in a while, one entry may take off. It hits a chord with people and they start sharing it. What was originally written with hopes of reaching large numbers but expecting to only be read by a few, can surprise people. It reminds me of the old shampoo commercial. She told two friends and they told two friends and so on. The internet can be a double-edged sword.

I experienced both sides of the internet this weekend. I wrote a little piece about growing up in a small town. I even attempted to address those that grew up in this little town, but longed for better things. So far, my postings, at best, hit 176 readers. As of this writing, that post is just shy of 2000 readers. Small compared to the number of internet users – large for me. In the end, it also received some negative comments.

I started falling into the trap of looking at this for more than what it was – somebody didn’t agree with me. My thoughts started wondering why somebody had to post at all if they didn’t like it. My feelings were hurt.

I drank my coffee and let this sink in. Fortunately, I think the caffeine helped me put my big boy panties on and remember that I am an adult – deal with it. I remembered the fact that I was thrilled with all the comments I saw yesterday. Of course I was – they were nice comments and they agreed with me. I had to question my inner self on why I was willing to accept those comments alone. Well, because I have an ego and it likes to be pumped. I went back and looked at the comments. They were not personal attacks – though one person telling me to bite them was a little weird – they were people expressing their lack of agreement. I responded to each telling them no offense meant and I understand their point. I didn’t apologize, but I accepted.

This experience, however, made me look at where we have traveled as a society, and what we are teaching our children. I worry that we are too much towards the world of The Giver. A world where emotions are gone. You say nothing to upset another. The world is without color. One should be able to express him/herself without being labeled a bully or told they are picking on people.

When working with our daughter or other children, I often hear so-and-so is being a bully. I ask for an explanation of how the other person is being a bully. More times than not, there is no name calling, there is no picking on, there is a person making a statement. It could be a simple, I do not like that dress. I don’t want to play with you right now. The other person being upset and wanting to be left alone.

I do not want to make light of bullying. I have seen it in my classroom, and stopped it when I did. I have heard adults picking on colleagues. It is serious and should be handled. My worries are that we are just calling anything that might hurt another person’s feelings, bullying. While we do need to stop bullying, I believe at the same time we need to remind our younger people that not everybody is going to like you or get along with you every second of every minute of every day.

Soon we will tackle everyone getting a trophy.

Posted in Bully, sarcasm, writing | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Take Me Back to the 40’s

Posted on January 23, 2016 by Bob Martin

I love living in the 21st century though there are times in which I feel that I was born too late. Today was one of those days. This afternoon had me wishing that I had lived in the ‘40s and been a next door neighbor to Old Man Parker from The Christmas Story. Of course I would have wanted to be as far away from the Bumkus, Bumpkins, or whatever their name is as possible.

The day started off as normal as could be. My wife and daughter went running out the door to do church school and other errands including picking up their Girl Scout cookies. I was tasked with being here while the furnace man did his semi-annual check-up of our system. I intended to clean the house and then sit to write while the technician went up and down the ladder. I counted the number of cups of coffee I would be able to drink. Then he slowly descended the ladder. Step by step – pictures in hand.

“Mr. Martin,” he started, “you have a problem.”

He then proceeded to spend the next twenty minutes explaining how my gas valve has stopped working and it has damaged other parts of the furnace. The metal is now fatigued. So was my brain from trying to understand. In the end, I understood that two much gas was being blown into the system which caused it to overheat multiple times. This in turn ruined a valve made just for that issue. It also caused the metal housing for the mixture of flame and gas to weaken. Currently we are safe – there are no cracks. The concern is that at the current state it could crack releasing gas and fumes into the house. Oh yeah – the furnace is out of warranty. I had a choice repair the parts or go ahead and follow government suggestions for a furnaces at 12 or more years old – replace. The senior tech received a call to come out.

In the end, we have to replace the whole system. I believe I just signed away both our daughter and our first born grandchild. I don’t plan to tell our daughter this until she has stayed warm for many years. Since we plan to be in this house until retirement, we have come to terms with this and accepted it. I can also already picture people messaging me saying that furnaces should last longer, I should have checked this or that, or you were ripped off. I say thank you ahead of time, no messages needed since I will be losing sleep over this already.

So how does this relate back to my opening? My favorite character in that movie has turned out to be the dad. There was nothing that could stop that man. He changed a tire in no time flat. The furnace became his nemesis. When that furnace stopped working it felt his wrath. He took a wrench down to the basement, some smoke came billowing out, and it worked. Those were the days. A man could fix things in the house.

Today, due to technology and other advancements, a man cannot always be a man. We can no longer take things apart, fix them, and have them work again. My brother and his buddies could hear a knock or ping in a car and know immediately the problem. They could hoist an engine, change out parts, and have it all back together in time for dinner. Not today. If your car makes a noise, you need to take it to a mechanic to have it talk with a computer.

With all the advances, we have moved away from men or women being able to self-repair. My oldest brother has a furnace that is over 50 years old. IT STILL WORKS. The motor has been replaced, but the rest is original. If something goes wrong with it, he can attempt repairs before calling somebody.

Today you have to trust the man with the iPad. You have to have faith that the company is not trying to rip you off. You have to be prepared to replace instead of repair. Fortunately, we have built long relationships with companies that we can trust. I am okay with our decision, but it just would have been nice to at least be able to act like I knew what I was doing.

Please take me back in time.

Posted in Do right thing | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Living in a Small Town

Posted on January 22, 2016 by Bob Martin
ontario house

Most of today, and I do not know why, I have been fondly thinking back to where I grew up. We live in the Los Angeles area – many people think of this area as a hustling, bustling world. I will state that the little town in which I grew up could not be any further on the other end of the spectrum than Los Angeles. Los Angeles has 3.93 million people – Youngstown has 1896 (both numbers from 2014). By the way, the Youngstown population has no period nor ending such as million. It really has one thousand eight hundred ninety-six people. Let’s lower that number even more since I grew up outside of the village in an even more rural area.

To give an even more distinct image of my home area, it took three towns to create our school. Putting all those students together made a graduating class of 311 students. My niece, who graduated recently, had a class size in the 180s. In Burbank, where I work, one high school has 2500 people. The schools are spread throughout the city. My school went K-12 all in one area. All the schools within a single piece of land. Here parents drive kids to school. There kids wait out by the road for the school bus. On a side note, there is nothing like Western New York in February when you have wet hair. Everything about my home area is small, and that is okay.

Our town has an intersection with 3 stop signs. I believe it had a stoplight at one point for a short time, but it is gone. My town is the type of town that people sing about – they sing about leaving. It is the town that you see in movies like Footloose or All the Right Moves. It could be the town in John Mellencamp’s song. The town that teenagers cannot wait to leave. I am proud of Youngstown. I miss my town.

I have met many people who try to forget their home area. They do everything in their power to erase their past. I will not judge for I do not know what they went through growing up. I even know people who could not wait until they had the chance to leave our area. I thought for sure that I would remain in Western New York for my entire life. However, my roads took me out and off to different paths.

So what is so great about growing up in a small town? I am attempting to keep my rosy colored glasses off as I explain. I also understand that this is my experience. Others who grew up in rural areas did not walk away with the same feelings or stories. But meander into the past is where I go tonight.

I mentioned how few people lived in our area. This could be both a blessing and a curse. I loved the fact that you knew almost everyone. You had people who you could depend on for support, help, and just friendship. The curse was that you knew almost everyone. My friend said that he hated this. Not so much the fact that he knew everyone, but that everyone knew his mom. He often would curse that he could sh*t crooked without his mom knowing about it before he got home.

I loved the fact that there were opportunities to work as a teen. We had a couple of restaurants in my late teens and early twenties both were pizza parlors. At one point or another I worked in both. I started at RR/DD and ended at Brennan’s Irish Pub. Both places offered young people a great introduction into the work world. Many other friends worked in the next town. They had more places. It also helped to be kin of the owner of the local bar. I hired for a summer under the family plan for cleaning and stocking at 6 am. Each of those jobs prepared me to be part of the real world.

I think the thing I miss most is the speed or lack of it. As a child in this area, the days passed slowly. Summer days were spent outside. In my first decade, we lived in a neighborhood of about 40 homes. The children would gather together in the morning and only head home when my father would whistle for dinner. Once we moved half a mile closer to home, things became even simpler. 5 homes two families. The kids worked in the morning and then played the day away. The Blizzard of ’77 was just two weeks of play for us.

I think the best example of the slow life was this gentleman who lived on the main road going in and out of town. From spring until late fall, he would sit in a lawn chair near the road each day. He waved at every passing car whether heading into town or out. He knew not the person in the car, but he waved none the less. One could not help but wave back. When the temperatures finally dropped too low, he would disappear. I would wait eagerly to see him reappear the next spring. When the days would get warm and he was not there, I would get worried and sad for him – then there he was, waving away. On my first visit back to town, though I knew too much time had passed, I drove to town, looking, hoping. No chair. I miss him.

I think the best selling point for the town is how much people cared. I already said that people knew each other, but they really cared for each other. This is something I do not see all that much out her in L.A. Here we know a couple of our neighbors and we watch out for each other. There it didn’t matter how much you knew somebody, you helped out. My dad taught us this when he was a volunteer fireman. There were no paid professionals. People volunteered to take care of each other. They volunteered to run the field day. I can remember helping our neighbor with hay because they needed it. My arms were poked full of holes, but the haying got down. I believe this is the main thing I miss – the people.

I think I have watched too many news stories in the recent days where people did nothing but harm one another. Los Angeles has many people who are nice and helpful. However, even a small percentage in of bad people in Los Angeles can mean more than 1 million. I have a feeling that is the reason I have been thinking of my home town. I just want people to care about each other.

I know a number of people who could not wait to leave the area. As soon as the time came, out they went. Many of them came back. I wanted to stay and yet I left. I may have physically moved away, but small town has always remained in my heart. In my times around the world, I have been drawn to small towns and villages. Even now, though the sign on the freeway says Los Angeles, the area where we live is similar to a small town.

I wish everybody could have a chance to visit Youngstown. New York not Ohio. See Fort Niagara. Experience hometown hospitality. Maybe, just maybe you will end up missing the small town as much as me.

Posted in family, memories, small town | Tagged , , , | 58 Comments

You’ll Miss It When It’s Gone

Posted on January 21, 2016 by Bob Martin

20160121_184024I find it funny that as I grow older, I can hear some of the phrases my elders used to say to me coming out of my own mouth. Some of the thoughts are less serious than others, and some, I am not sure if it fits just what they meant when they said it to me. The adage that came to me recently is that you never appreciate something until it is gone.

For the life of me, I cannot remember who used this sagely advice when speaking to me. It could have been my Dad, Mom, Nana, or Aunt. It definitely was one those four, or, quite possibly, all four. I think it came out of each of them at least once.

I am happy to report that when these words came to me this morning, they did not go from me to our daughter. As a matter of fact, it was during one of those all too often occurrences when I am speaking to me, myself, and I. I am also ecstatic in reporting that the words are not due to death or the loss of something important to me. I spoke the words due to the lack of two events that I often, in the past, complained kept repeating. I used to question when they would stop. Now that they appear to have ceased, I kind of miss them.

The first item deals with our daughter. Ever since she was a baby, I am the one that would normally get up with her in the middle of the night. This was the agreement made with my wife since I could – A. fall back asleep quickly, and B sleep anywhere. My wife handled issues during the day. We also made it a point that, once she was walking, if she came to us during the night, we would walk her back to her own bed. At first I would sit with her back in her room until she fell back asleep. I would then crawl back to our room and put my head back on to my own pillow. Once she had a “Big Girl’s” bed, life became easier. Her bed has a trundle. I would walk her back to her room, pull out the trundle and fall back to sleep.

Being part of education, I received advice from all sorts of people. Other teachers, school psychologists, nurses, and friends would all offer thoughts on this process. Most people would say don’t worry about it, it is a phase that will go away. Our daughter is now eight, and while this is far from a nightly event, it did happen enough to make me wonder how she would handle college.

Then this morning, it dawned on me. It has been almost two weeks with no nightly visitation. I am not sure if she gets up at all during the night. While I am a light sleeper, I have not heard or seen any indication that she is. If she is, she has been going back to sleep on her own. I realized this morning that my forehead has received not a single smack in nearly a fortnight. No bad dreams, no needing a drink, no “I just woke ups” – nothing. This is a good thing for I feel as if she is getting a better rest. I wish that we could state that we figured out the secret, but alas we had nothing to do with this.

Then I stopped and thought. It hasn’t happened in nearly two weeks. She may, quite possibly, be over her night visits. She is growing up and able to handle things that used to scare her on her own. There is one more thing on the list of things she doesn’t of which she doesn’t need me. The list is getting longer. Mind you, I like the night’s rest, but just the same…….

This brings me to the second loss – our cat. No, no, no, she didn’t pass or run away. She is fine. However, as in most homes, our daughter wanted a cat. I, while not thrilled, was okay with this. She needed a pet. She needed something that would stay with her, a furry friend. Of course this meant that the animal decided to hang with me – especially at night. This cat likes to be under the comforter. However, she only likes to be there for short spans of time. This cat will tap me on the shoulder during the middle of the night for me to raise the blanket. She crawls under and sleeps at my feet just like a dog. She also plays fetch. I really believe that it got to the point that I didn’t even wake up. She would tap and my arm automatically responded. She would stay for a while and then crawl out. This would be repeated many times a night.

Again, this morning I stopped and realized that I haven’t been tapped on the shoulder for a couple of weeks as well. It appears a chair stopped the tapping. When we took the Christmas decorations down, we put my Ikea chair in the living room. I am not sure if it is the chair, or possibly that the chair has my scent or what, but I noticed of late when I get up that she is asleep in that chair. No more bedroom visits. No more gentle taps. Our cat like our daughter had outgrown needing me in the middle of the night.

Now mind you, it is a nice feeling being able to wake to an alarm and not a smack to the head or tap on the shoulder. However, I now realize that you never appreciate something until it is gone. I used to complain about both reasons for waking during the middle of the night. Only now do I realize that in a way, I liked them because either a person or animal, in some small way, needed me. Now they don’t. I now appreciate their nightly visits. I miss them.

I will also be the first to accept that by writing this, I may be jinxing myself. In a way…… I think I would be okay with the rare tap or smack. I just don’t want them to grow up too fast.

Posted in family, humor | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Celebrate Like a Child

Posted on January 20, 2016 by Bob Martin

946169_10153355241385509_8874054819816265590_nI do not want to think that life has made me jaded. I definitely cannot think that way when it comes to my wife. However, I do have to agree that things that used to excite us as youngsters just don’t play out in the same way when you are adults…… or dare I say, adults in their 50s (me not my wife).

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, today is our anniversary. My wife and I take this day seriously as a way to remember pledging our love until death do us part. This day is a symbol of our unity. It does not come as an “Oh good, one more done.” We truly do celebrate this day. We just don’t do it in the same way that our daughter does. As a matter of fact, we have been so busy of late, we almost forgot to plan anything.

Seeing anniversaries and birthdays through the eyes of an eight year old really brings home the fact that these are days to really celebrate. The year is filled with so many ordinary days that young people understand that one should not simply allow these events to pass us by.

This morning our little one surprised me when I entered her room to wake her up. This task normally takes a few minutes as she grudgingly starts to open her eyes and decide to get up and shower. I cannot complain since I have read postings by other parents and the difficulties they have dragging children out of bed. While it might take her a few minutes to get her engine going, for the most part, once she starts she goes. Today, however, I walked in to her room to see the blanket totally over her head – hmmmmm this was different.

She timed it beautifully, just as I reached the foot of her bed, off went the blankets and this Tigger like creature came bounding out of the bed into my arms yelling, “Happy Anniversary!” One would have thought that it was her special day. She grabbed her towel and ran for the bathroom all the while shouting instructions that I was forbidden from going to the kitchen for any reason. Thank goodness I had already brewed my coffee.

Before I could even think about getting dressed, she had showered, dressed and ran to the kitchen. All the while warning that we were not allowed. My wife and I went through our usual morning rituals. I could hear singing wafting from the kitchen, a made up song about anniversaries.

Finally, the announcement came that breakfast was served. We came to the dining room to find cards, a drink with two straws, waffles, a stuffed dog, and cotton balls (decorations to resemble snow). Before we were allowed to eat, a picture had to be taken to mark the day. This was followed by breakfast with a very lovely young lady constantly asking if we needed anything.

Unfortunately, work and school called so our morning celebration had to come to an end. All the way to school, I was told how we should do more after school to make the day special. She could not just let the day go by without making the most of it.

As I sat at work today, I could not help but think about our daughter’s attitude this morning. She asked questions about the wedding and the number of years. She wanted to know if I was happy. Her enthusiasm started taking hold. I started to understand how she viewed the day. Something great happened on this day. Don’t just let it go by. Sing about it. Shout about it. Be happy.

I left work on time today (for those that know me, you understand the importance of this). I started home thinking of making a meatloaf. The closer I got to home, the more I realized that while my wife likes my meatloaf – meatloaf doesn’t sing. I pulled into the local market and bought steaks. We ended with Cold Stone ice cream. I started to celebrate my anniversary like a child.

I end the day looking forward to the next day to celebrate. February will bring both Valentine’s Day and my wife’s birthday. I am going to think as an eight year old as I prepare for both days.

Posted in celebrate, family | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

9 Years and Counting

Posted on January 19, 2016 by Bob Martin

I spent some time looking at statistics. Everything that we do in life can be broken down into numbers. Depending on the information you want, those numbers can be manipulated to be anything that the author desires. In this particular instance, I looked at numbers dealing with marriages and divorces. I was curious since tomorrow, January 20th, my wife and I will be celebrating nine years since saying our “I dos.”

According to some of the reports, we are beating the odds though we need to get one more year. One report states that only we have a 1 in 15 chance of going more than 10 years. I have a hard time with this one. Another states that only 10% of the population is divorced. That one gives me hope. It also stated that the median duration of first marriages is 7.8 – YES! We win.

In the end, statistics are no more than a group of digits that people have put together to prove or disprove a point. To the normal human, they do not matter. What does matter is that you find the right person, whether first, second, or third try, and then you put your time and effort into making it work.

I am very fortunate. I found my soul mate on the first try. Although it took us both 40 years to find each other. In the end, I hope that our struggle to find the right person will be a life lesson for our daughter. There is no reason to settle for someone just to get married, just to not be alone.

There are a number of reasons that my wife and I will be together for a long time to come. Each one of them is something that we will pass on to our little one.

We each liked who we were and could stand to be alone with ourselves. We weren’t desperate to get married. Heck, I think we both had resigned ourselves to the fact that we would never get married. I think our families had done the same. This lack of searching is something that brought us together. More importantly, we were okay with this possibility. We both were people that we liked and didn’t mind being with.

Since being together, we have found that we have many things in common. We have also found that we have many separate interests, and that is fine with us. Spending time on our personal interests is what helps us. It gives us the time apart. What is even nicer is that sometimes, we take part in those interests. It is fun going into her world. Yes, I have sat through Spark’s games. I thought I would just sit there, but darn if I don’t start getting mad at those refs.

We have/had great role models. My wife’s parents made it to 57 years just missing 58 by a few months. They made it through great years, they made it through tough years – they made it together and set the example. Her brothers have also made it through marriage milestones as well. My parents made it 19 years at which time my father passed. I grew up with parents that also had a roller coaster, but they never gave up on each other. Both of us have a large number of friends who have passed 20, 30 and 40 years. Our friends set the bar high, and we are up to the challenge. We thank them for being such great examples.

We also communicate. This may have something to do with the fact that we were both in our 40s when we wed. By that time, you are too tired to argue over piddly things. We take the time to talk to each other before we get to the point that we want to reach out and smack a head or two. Our age also helped because we know what compromise is.

I think the main thing is that we never go to sleep, part in the morning, or go about our day without professing our love for each other – and we say it in front of others without worry. Even when we are separated due to travel, we make sure that we say those words every night and every morning.

We are only hitting number nine. It feels like we are decades in – in a good way. We know that we have to work at it each and every day. But I can honestly say that I would not want to work with anybody else. I asked her when I proposed to her to be, “My Best Friend, My Partner, My Wife.” She has been that and so much more. I spent 40+ years feeling that it is okay to be alone. Now I cannot imagine a day without her.

I thank God every day for bringing her into my life. I didn’t need her to complete my life, but boy has my life expanded due to her.

Thank you my love for saying yes. Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for being my soul mate.

Posted in Love | Tagged , , , , , | 5 Comments

Tonsillectomies compared

Posted on January 19, 2016 by Bob Martin

I noticed of late that my postings are very serious and somewhat sad in nature. I thought I might change that up a little tonight.

Our daughter and her friend were talking about tonsils tonight. They had been watching an old episode of Little House on the Prairie. In this particular show, Laura had bad tonsils. She had been kept home from school and had a bad fever. This caused the two young ladies in my house to speculate what this evil thing might be. Our daughter only knew that she had her tonsils out a long time ago, but she could neither explain what they were nor why they were pulled.

I explained to them why she had to have them yanked. At the age of 1-1/2, her tonsils had grown to a size that block her throat when she slept. My wife gave them an idea as to where they live in the body. I do not think either of us could have explained their purpose without using Google. Fortunately, our medical expertise ended at the location.

After our talk, I started reminiscing on her day in the hospital. We drove her to the hospital in the morning. At her age, she really didn’t know what was happening. We did the paperwork and headed to the ward. She was in a room much like a doctor’s office. They gave her the happy juice and waited for it to kick in. She was happy. Then they allowed us to walk with her until the doors of the surgery ward. She was asleep by this point.

My wife and I then moved to a waiting room. It had nice furniture and a television. I cannot recall how long we were there, but for some reason I think an hour and a half passed when the doctor came in. He informed us all went well and that she had the largest tonsils for a person her age that he had ever seen. I went back to recovery since only one parent was allowed. Once she started to stir, we were moved to a little room where my wife joined us. We sat with her until they felt she was good to go. We left the hospital around noon. It took us less than four hours from door to door. We even stopped and got her an ice cream on the way home.

By that night, our little patient danced around the living room. She had Popsicle in hand and moved about as if nothing had happened. She gabbed away, well as much as someone her age can gab. I remember being amazed at how quickly the events of the day had gone and how fast she recovered.

Once I had run her

through my mind, I ran the story of mine through my head. Mind you, I don’t really remember much of it. It is one of those things where you have a slight recall, but through hearing your parents or others talk of it so often, their stories become your memories. So hear is a combination of my real memories with the implanted ones.

I remember being in a hospital with a children’s ward. I cannot recall if it was Niagara Falls Memorial or St. Mary’s. I believe it was the first one since I always relate that hospital as being dark and unfriendly. I seem to recall a brownish tint to everything including the air. My parents checked me in the night before. A big sign hung over my bed, “DO NOT FEED.” As a child, I could picture the exact same sign at the zoo in front of the bears.

I am not sure if it was later that night or early in the morning, the lack of food plays with one’s memories, but I know that other parents were in “The Ward.” Come to think of it, my barracks in basic training had a happier feel to them. I looked around and could not find my parents. I became upset thinking the warden wouldn’t let them in. Another mom came to assure me they would be there soon.

When my parents arrived, some guy, some ogre, some monster appeared alongside my bed with a needle that was longer than my arm. Hey – I remember this as a 9 year old. He gave me the happy juice. Only this juice did nothing to make me happy. Apparently, it did not affect me like others. According to the way my dad spoke, it created a monster. A monster who thought he could escape this Cuckoo’s nest.

The rest is my Dad’s version.

Another attendant showed up with a gurney to take me away – this was nothing like Colgan. I have been informed that as they attempted to strap me down, I made a jump for it. I guess the two big guys were expecting a sedated patient. I have been informed that I jumped off the gurney and ran around the ward. I was not going down without a fight.

At some point, they held me down but could not strap me. They attempted to take me out of the room in this fashion. It is difficult to hold a child’s arm, legs, torso, and move a gurney. I won or maybe not. The larger of the two decided to carry me out of the ward and down to surgery. My parents walked with him to the elevator; my legs a flailing. Not knowing defensive modes, the placement of my foot was purely coincidental and though I wish I could say it was planned – it was just luck on my part.

My parents tried to calm me down all the way down the hall. They told me it would be alright. The elevator doors opened. Giant man stepped in with my in a half nelson. He turned and I spied my parents standing on the other side of the metal line on the floor. They were abandoning me!!!!

Once more my feet started having a mind of their own. They would not fail me. My legs sent my feet in all directions making contact with anything within a short distance. I made contact with a large number of buttons. My father told me many a times how he heard me screaming all the way up in the elevator and then down again (the surgery ward was below the children’s ward). He then heard me scream on the way down to the correct floor.

I don’t remember anything after that. For some reason, I do believe they painted the ward and changed the curtains while I was in surgery. While I do not recall the new color, I do know that the brown tinge had vanished. It is amazing the amount of work that can be down in a few hours. I believe I spent a few days in that place before being released.

My recall does not hold much else. I do believe it was near the Christmas break at school because I seem to recall missing the Christmas party in school. Oh yeah. We still had those.

So that is how I spent my afternoon. Comparing our daughter’s tonsillectomy to mine. In the end, I think she had the better experience.

 

Posted in medical | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Hello. May I Help You?

Posted on January 18, 2016 by Bob Martin

An obviously bored customer support girl.“Hello. May I help you?” The words we hear all too often when calling an 800 number or go to a location all in the hopes of obtaining some customer service. It is not that I dislike these words; I just wish that they came with a want to follow through on them. There are two things I constantly wish for, sorry colleagues I know you have heard this before, customer service and better communication. I will save the latter for another post.

The problem, and others may disagree, is that customer service has become nothing more than lip service in so many places. I have heard that it is because employees don’t care. I have heard that it is the Millennials, and their lack of work effort. I have heard that it is due to outsourcing. While each of the mentioned items do play a little part in this area, these are not, in my mind, the cause for companies having reached the point of, “Hello. Thank you for calling customer service. Please note that I may or may not listen to you, and I most likely will do nothing for you.”

Is it too late? Can it come back?………….It can because it is not gone entirely.

We like to go to Big Bear. Now for those outside of Southern California, this is a small city (population 6000) up in the mountains of San Bernardino. It is known for its skiing, but it has a great little village. Within the city you will find some “big box” stores and restaurants. However, for the most part the shops and eateries are small businesses trying to make a go at it in a city that lives and dies by the weather. For the most part, it is a beautiful place to go even on holiday weekends when the time to town goes from 10 minutes to 30. More importantly it is a nice place to go due to how they treat people whether they are locals or tourists. They depend on each and every customer. They do not only rely on them just for that particular sale, but for future sales as well. They need them to come back time and time again.

We frequent these small businesses whenever we can. I would like to say that it is because consciously we have made the choice to support the underdog. It is not. We step through their doors because of how they treat us as a customer. These businesses do what they state they will do and more. On the few occasions when I have had a problem, it is taken care of swiftly. What I like even more is that they do not attempt to shift the blame back on me. There has been a time or two, when dealing with the hardware store, that the problem is me. I did something wrong. I informed them of this; they smile and say no problem. The problem gets fixed.

I am also happy to report that this type of customer service is not limited just to Big Bear. My wife and I come from small towns in Western New York. We go back to visit our family at least once a year. Again, these towns, even smaller than Big Bear, are made up of Mom and Pop styled stores. The sense of helping the customer is just as strong in these stores. When we traveled last spring, our stops took us to smaller communities. That sense of doing what is right existed in each and every small community. By the way, we were served by all types and ages of employees, so we can toss out the blame the Millennials.

So what is it? I think it goes back to what I stated earlier. These companies depend on each and every customer. They cannot afford to lose a single customer. Even more, they cannot allow a customer to walk away with bad feelings to spread on to others.

Larger stores and chains are missing this. If a customer decides to change loyalties on electronics, the first store will most likely never even know it happened. The new receiver of the customer’s loyalties probably wont care. They will still have all of their other customers coming back. If a person writes a bad review, the companies hire people to counter the comments. The companies have more means to fight the single consumer causing them to need less and less customer service. It doesn’t need to be like this. Have you ever gotten the fluke call where the person on the other end knew what he/she was doing and helped you? I have – it is wonderful.

When I get those customer service representatives, I call back to get a manager. I sing the praises of their employee. I tell them that that person needs to be training others. I compliment the employees want to really put the company in a good light and making the customer feel as if no one else mattered. I tell others about the great experience. Yes. Good customer service is that important to me.

I don’t even want to make this sound like the problem is that big box companies do not depend on the customer. They do – they just have more of them. I think the problem is that those running the companies do not come out and meet the customers. They don’t walk in the shoes of those who might be buying a big ticket item only after saving for it for a year or more. They don’t understand who it is that pays their utility bills.

I also think part of the problem is in pushing new employees through quick tell and sell training. They get told what to do without having proper training. It has nothing to do with uncaring employees or the young generation being horrible workers – it is that employees are living up down to the expectations of their employers.

So I will stop complaining about poor customer service. It is funny, many are all too willing to leave a bad tip or no tip for bad service by a waiter. Yet these same people will hear that nothing can be done to help them in a store where that person spends thousands of dollars and still remain a loyal customer. I will no longer do this.

I will put my money into stores, restaurants, and companies where I am treated properly. That means I will stay with some larger companies, but most of my money will go to the little guy.

 

Posted in Customers, Do right thing | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment