Giving What You Need to Get

I’m a giver. Those who know me know that I’ll give you the shirt off my back and ask you if you need my pants and shoes too. Some might call it being unselfish, but I don’t agree with that. I do it for selfish reasons. I do it because it brings me joy to help out others. I do it because I’ve been in the circumstances more than once in my life when I’ve needed help and it was given to me (paying it back). I do it because there may come a time in my future that I will need help and hope to receive it (paying it forward). And when someone offers me a few dollars for helping them, I simply say “You can thank me best by paying it forward to someone else.”

But I’ve come to recently accept what might be the biggest reason I give even more freely to people I know and care about (as opposed to strangers). I’ve come to realize that I often give what I would very much like to receive. No, it’s not like tit for tat or keeping score or holding something out-of-the-ordinary over someone’s head as a way to pressure them that they owe me something in the future. In a (now) semi-subconscious way, I hope the recipients will recognize the good feeling they get from my gift and think about returning a good feeling of some kind to me. And that, my friends, is purely selfish!

Before Christmas, when asked for ideas for gifts, my brother mentioned that he’d like more coffee mugs because he only has 2, which means he’s washing them every other day. He got 5 more as gifts (one from me, 4 from our friends) and he’d made a comment about how now he wouldn’t need to wash mugs until he also had to wash the spoons he uses to stir his sugar and cream in his cup of coffee. When I visited him in April, I teased him about the build-up of dirty spoons in his sink and he said something about how he should get coffee stirrers so that wouldn’t be a problem. When I came home, I got on Amazon and had a box of 1000 coffee stirrers sent directly to him for a very inexpensive amount. Recently, someone else mentioned needing to get out and find athletic glasses holders for his reader glasses because he kept putting them down somewhere and had to search for them. Again, I went to Amazon and found what he wanted for an inexpensive price and presented them to him. Neither of these gifts were expensive and, at least in these two particular examples, it was just about the good feeling I got from making someone else’s life a little easier.

In this age of texts, social media and maybe an occasional email is a way to connect with someone; my friends will even sporadically receive a good, old-fashioned “thinking of you” card via the postal service. It can be funny or not (I usually gravitate towards funny), but it’s something unexpected and tactile that lets them know they are in my thoughts. And I’ll be honest… getting that kind of little, inexpensive surprise in my mail (full of catalogs, circulars, political flyers and bills) would definitely make me feel awesome!

What did I GET out of doing these things? Well, I still get the joy of giving – the unselfish part. Those small acts – at least I hope – give the receiver some recognition that they are important in my life. Also – at least I hope – it shows that I pay attention to them and what they say. Another piece of this puzzle, however, is that I hope to receive some signal from them that I am important in their lives and that they pay attention to me and what I say… and that cries out of selfish and needy behavior! Not an attractive trait, to be sure.

As I ruminated and processed this full disclosure of myself, I realized that I’ve been doing this since I was in high school. My best friend in high school was a drop-dead gorgeous blonde, extremely musically talented and known and liked by everyone. She was an amazing friend to me, and chose me as her best friend when I believed that she could have chosen so many other people – better than mere me – to have as her sidekick. And I remember, looking back, how I was always putting little surprise trinkets in her locker. It might have been a fresh flower from my mom’s garden, or a 4-leaf clover I’d found. But now I wonder if those trinkets were, in some subconscious way, my way to pay her back for choosing ME as her best friend???!!!

In all of this processing, I’ve tried to step back from some of this gifting, especially when I begin to sense that I am never going to get back the feelings I’m seeking. It’s not easy, but there are some relationships I’ve had to step back from because it was always me doing the giving, and the gift wasn’t even acknowledged. My brother opens my car door and holds other doors for me whenever we’re together. He does that simply because that’s who it is, but each and every time he does, I say thank you. And he’s the same way with me. I got a thank-you email for the coffee stirrers, and he always thanks me for the things I do for him. That’s a solid give and take relationship, and it won’t change. But when I have friends over (more than once) for dinner and am never asked if they can bring anything, I’m learning that I have to meet that friendship on that level and step back from offering whenever I’m invited to dinner hosted by them. If I pick up a lunch check and then we enjoy lunch together seven or eight times as Dutch-treat, then I need to stop picking up the check again, since it’s apparently not appreciated.

This will be an ongoing learning process for me. Giving is so ingrained in my behavior that I do it without thinking first. But now that I understand that sometimes, some part of my giving is to get something back – acknowledgement, appreciation, perhaps the return of a similar “gift” – then I need to find other ways to get what I need from other people.

If that makes me selfish, I’m going to have to deal with that feeling. I don’t feel it’s wrong to want my generosity to be acknowledged, and if it is, then I’ll just have to learn to live with being wrong.

(P.S. Brad, don’t worry – you’ll still get plenty of home-cooked meals! You always say thank you and you make certain I know how much you enjoy them! Plus, we both know it makes me happy to cook, and so I get that out of it, too!)

Oh-Dark-Thirty Routines

In case you need a definition, “oh-dark-thirty” simply means ‘far too early in the morning’. As I’ve shared in my post called “My Elusive Love”, sleep and I don’t spend a lot of time together. What time we do spend together is fraught with interruptions.

I consider not getting out of bed until after 4:30 AM “sleeping in”. My internal clock is set for around the 2:30 AM mark. At this time, I’m awake enough to recognize I need a trip to the bathroom; upon returning, I lay down and attempt to fall back asleep. If I am lucky enough, I’ll doze off for another 40 or so minutes.

So it’s safe to say that you will find me making my first (of three) cups of coffee no later than 3:30 in the morning. From there, with coffee in hand, I head for the space I use as an office and awaken my sleeping laptop. By the time I’ve gotten this far, I am completely mentally alert, no matter how tired my body feels. Emails are first, followed by social media, and then some online games. I convinced myself long ago that I play games online to keep my mind alert as I age; in truth, I’ve always enjoyed card games and keep myself away from casinos because the gambling urge makes me have to fight hard not to give in to it.

After a few games to fully remove any leftover cobwebs in my brain, I visit my blog site. With most of the bloggers I follow, I get an email alert, so I’ve read some or all of the ones I care to read. I don’t comment often, but I make sure I use the “like” button if I enjoyed a post. (Note to self: you need to figure out how to add the “like” button to your page!).

I’ll take a bit of a break, weather permitting, to take my coffee and my current book out to my porch once day has lightened the sky. I may sit out there for up to 1/2 hour – sometimes I get involved in my book, sometimes I read a few pages and then set it aside. This is about the time the rest of the world is getting started on their day…cars are making there way to people’s workplaces or wherever else they need to be.

Once I’m tired of sitting in an unyielding plastic patio chair, it’s back inside. Finish my coffee, take my morning medicines, get myself as cleaned up as I need to be, then return to the computer. When 11:30 comes, I think about signing off to catch the noon news and something for lunch. Since I’m mostly only interested in the weather forecast, I putter and fuss doing odd little chores during the commercials.

At 12:30, when the news is done, I put together my lunch. I often only eat one meal and one snack a day, so lunch is usually a somewhat hearty meal. Then it’s time to lay back down and channel-surf…there are a lot of programs I will watch re-runs of… if nothing keeps my interest, I’ll grab my book instead.

And then…the nap usually happens. My naps tend to be more satisfying than my overnight sleeping. Sometimes I nap because I’m tired, and sometimes because I’m bored. In the summer, I have only window air-conditioners (it’s an old building in an old town) – one in the living room and one in my bedroom. At least, with the bedroom, I can close the door and keep all of the cool air inside those four walls.

After my nap, I’ll forage in the kitchen and see what appeals to me as a snack. It doesn’t matter whether or not I’m hungry – I have a specific medicine I need to take twice a day with food. I may eat a few cookies, or have a snack pack of pudding. Then it’s back to the bedroom to again channel-surf for something worth watching. By 9 PM, I feel my body wanting to go to sleep – I try to stretch it out as long as I can, thinking if I fall asleep later, I’ll sleep in later the next morning (Talk about deluding ourselves! I’ve tried this often enough to know it doesn’t work!) I spend up to an hour getting my sinuses under control so I’m not constantly sniffing and coughing. Eventually, I fall asleep. Oh, but fear not, never for long! There will be at least two instances when I’ll need to get up to go to the bathroom, and then I’ll have to fluff and re-arrange my pillows each time.

And then, I awaken again, no urgency for a bathroom visit, and lay there quietly. Maybe I’ll doze off again? After a futile (what seems like) eternity, I finally sit up, put my feet on the floor, and look at the clock. Oh yea, it’s oh-dark-thirty again and I’m awake for the morning!

Variations on this daily routine come on Tuesdays (senior discount at the local grocery store!) or medical, hair or nail appointments. I schedule these appointments early, as I know I’ll be dragging if I try to stay away from my nap for an afternoon appointment. Once a month or so (as little as I can get away with), I plan for at least half a day in the morning to make telephone calls in those instances when things can’t be done electronically at my convenience.

Early to bed and early to rise, huh??? I’m only somewhat healthy, not in any way wealthy, and the jury is still out on wise!

On the bright side? I’ll probably never get laryngitis. I go for days sometimes without muttering a single word!

The Silent Treatment

I saw this on a social media forum and immediately nodded in agreement. As I mentioned in “My Elusive Love”, sleep is more a stranger than a friend in my life. I feel it safe to say that my mind is a traitor to the body which houses it, since it’s those ramblings and ruminations inside my brain that start immediately upon awakening, more often than not keeping me awake despite how my body craves to fall back asleep.

I got to thinking about the actual idea of my mind giving me the silent treatment, and what that would mean. My fear is that, with my luck (and something called The Wentling Curse in my life), my mind would not silence temporarily, giving me a respite from the words roaming through it, but permanently. Would I eventually miss the cacophony my thoughts produce – often raging, occasionally just flowing easily – but seldom truly silent?

Those idioms of “the grass is always greener…” and “be careful what you wish for” come to me as I ponder this… A question sometimes asked of others for conversation is, “Would you rather your mind go first or your body go first?” produces answers equal on both sides. Having watched my mother’s body fail her though her mind was always present was sad. Losing your independence and needing someone to help you with the most basic of life’s tasks can – and probably does – bring guilt with it. Jay Shetty, in a recent interview with Chrissy Metz (star on “This Is Us”) agreed with Chrissy’s idea that none of us really need anyone in our lives. I recognize that this comment was made in the concept of settling for the wrong person, but in the whole scheme of life, I can’t agree.

I have a pretty low threshold when it comes to physical pain, and so I’ve always believed that I wanted my mind to go first so that I wouldn’t comprehend what is happening to my body. Millions of people with loved ones who suffer with dementia and Alzheimer’s would disagree, as it is heart-breaking for them to not be recognized by their loved ones.

But alas, I digress… I would welcome a respite of silent treatment from my mind like I welcome a day when the sun shines brightly despite the bitter cold outside – and I still think I fear pain more than loss of cognitive skills… But I suppose I should be careful what I wish for, since in this case, the parameters aren’t preset more specifically…

Hacks from my Happy Place – IV

With summer (finally!) arriving, so arrives the season of cook-outs and picnics and gatherings of friends and families in the great out-of-doors. Hamburgers always taste better grilled – hot dogs look more appealing with a little char and the skins bursting open – sides like baked beans, macaroni and/or potato salad are the accoutrements that complete the meal.

When invited to such an event, there is a great probability that, when asked what I can bring, I will be asked for pasta salad. And my recipe is so easy!

Every bowl of pasta salad needs two things – a pasta and a dressing. For this, I tend to use the tri-colored rotini pasta for two reasons: the colors add to the visual pleasantness of the salad and rotini are easy to stab with a fork when eating it. For dressing, my tried and true is a bottle of ‘original’ Italian dressing.

It’s important, for this salad, to monitor your pasta when it’s cooking. If you’re going to err, err on the side of slightly undercooked as opposed to slightly overcooked. Mushy pasta is not an enjoyable texture. Slightly less than al dente pasta does have the chance to envelope and embrace some of the flavor of the salad dressing, making it more palatable.

From there, you get the be the star of the show! The other items you add are up to your own personal taste or perhaps, what you have on hand! My friends prefer meat pasta salad – ham, turkey, pepperoni and the like. If I have lunchmeat on hand, I just cut it up and spread it throughout. If not, I’ll ask at the deli of the grocery store to slice me about a 1/4th inch slab of the lunchmeats I want to include, which I then dice. Sometimes I’ve used chicken instead of turkey, I’ve added roast beef when I had extra lunchmeat. (Although I never have “leftover” steak, I imagine it would taste exceptional as an addition!) Next come cheeses – stick with the shredded cheeses and again, use what you like or have on hand. I always have at least two flavors in the fridge. Beyond the meats and cheeses, the only other thing I add is a can of drained black olives. I add these because I like them – and those who don’t can pick around them or give them to me!

When it comes to making a vegetable pasta salad, anything you would put on a green lettuce salad can be put in a pasta salad! Celery and carrots are obvious. Pieces of raw broccoli and/or cauliflower provide an additional crunch and color. Cherry tomatoes are the perfect size for this pasta salad. Again, think of any vegetable you’d eat raw – even green peppers – and add it.

Once you’ve got your ingredients all mixed together as best you can (I assemble it in two layers) in a plastic bowl with a tight lid, turn it upside down and put it in the fridge. When you’re in the fridge for another reason, take the time to turn the bowl upright, then upside down, then upright again. Don’t be afraid to give it a shake along the way. This gives the dressing a chance to meet at least part of the surface of every ingredient in the bowl.

One of the best things, besides how easy pasta salad is to make, is that it gets better if it sits in the fridge for a day or two before it’s served. This gives the dressing a chance to become absorbed and the flavors to become even brighter as they marinate in the dressing’s spice. The downfall to making it ahead of time is that you’ll be tempted to sample it – and once you do, you’ll be sampling a bite or two every time you see it in the fridge!

I’ve learned to always make a little too much to fit into my biggest plastic bowl. A separate container with the extra is where I can sample from. It also assures me that I’ll have more than just what I get at the gathering – because my friends will want to keep the extras!

Try this easy recipe and be a hit at your next gathering!

And still she rambles on…

Words – sounds that feel good to our tongue and lips – by conscious decision we choose the right word – – is the season fall or autumn? Both capture the same image, but autumn rolls off the tongue like a vision of its splendor. The word brings forth the thought of the sober and careful nature that is the capitulation of spring and summer now gone “mad” – colors everywhere – leaves on the trees are now more like tethered balloons – nature at the circus with fun and visual delights. No more the solid green of the trees and lawns but a true vision of the palette of life foreshadowing the glory that will lead to the rest and dormancy that is winter. And why not? After such an outburst and display, nature must recover herself and prepare for the explosion that will come with each new spring – thrusting all of her energy into the composition of a new creation. But in autumn, the energy has been expended and the rewards evident in display – nature’s last chance to show off and strut her brilliance and dazzle us for one more time like the fireworks at the end of the show. In the brilliance, we ignore the tomato plants now bent and drooped, frail and withered and having outlived their purpose, or the raspberry vine which long lost its fruit and now becomes only a bramble to shelter rabbits and other critters foraging for safety and nourishment before the final freeze… the freeze that is the sound of the word winter – say the word and its syllables bite like Dante’s final circle in Hell – Satan is frozen in a lake of ice and his wings flap to create a hurricane while his tears are frozen to his face – the Earth wrapped in her cloak of white and slumber with the starkness of contrast of the naked trees – stripped like Christ before the crucifixion, head bowed and fate heavy upon His face. In these moments, the promise of the new Genesis of spring – the absolute renewal and all its implications – something we only believe by faith will occur.

Words and ideas – the importance of all those synapses firing and jumping – playing with the meaning and shadings – to admit only generically at the meanings… being allowed to explore the meaning that we at first only hint at and then, amazed by the truth of the situation, we begin to understand the full ramifications of what our words and ideas reveal of ourselves to another. How often do we wish we could “take back” our words – syllables said in the heat of a given moment which are at the core of the truth inside ourselves – – realizing that we have said too much only because we have been totally honest – and the light of absolution does not come from the other’s eyes – the ramifications of our deepest fears that we cannot undo the damage that has been done, while simultaneously knowing that speaking our truths are damaging to ourselves if left silent… the struggle to validate ourselves to be accepted as just who we are against the believe that no one will be willing, much less able, to accept us at that place.

I like words, the magic and the promises they convey – to explore or explain their sense of being and meaning- but I use them too much in an attempt to explore or explain my own sense of being and meaning – trying so diligently to come up with the “right” answers to life’s questions. For example, during a job interview, one is asked if one could trust someone who had lied to him/her… How can one answer in a simple “yes” or “no”? We as humans set out with good intentions, and no one else but each of us can be the scale by which we measure ourselves – to say that I wouldn’t trust someone would suggest that I have never lied — but to say that I wouldn’t trust that person is also to impose my own values on a situation of which I do not have full knowledge. And so, one hedges his/her bet by a rash of words explaining the thought process – because the words beyond “yes” or “no” are needed if we want to accurately convey that we just don’t know the answer, rather than admit that we don’t know the answer. Explanation and justification are rationalization at their best… rather than admit that we are more than the sum of parts known by a single answer…

Depression is not contagious

I find myself shaking my head that I even feel the need to write this post. But apparently, though modern society has come to accept depression as a disease, modern man who has not experienced depression really has no concept of how to handle it when it’s present in others.

The word depression itself can be seen in many things. There are economic depressions. There are weather depressions. You depress a plunger into a clogged toilet. But clinically, while depression has many shapes and forms, it is categorized by a sense of melancholy and sadness. But being sad is not the same as being depressed. We all experience times of sadness – for example, the loss of a loved one or beloved pet – but the blues that envelope us at these times of sadness do eventually wane. Even multiple days of gloomy weather can cause sadness in some people.

There are multiple names given to differing depressions. Some are purely chemical in nature, caused by the brain, and can only be treated with medications. Some are more a sense of moodiness and loss of interest and unwillingness to participate in even daily living.

I’m sure I could research and write paragraph after paragraph about all of the forms of depression, all of the symptoms of depression, all of the treatments of depression.

The most common treatment for a person experiencing depression is psychotherapy. A trained professional engages the depressed person in “talk” sessions in order to determine if there exists a root problem that causes the symptoms and feelings. But some are unable – or maybe unwilling – to put those feelings out to another person. Some people have trouble expressing their emotions, fearing judgement or rejection. Others have been taught to believe that anyone with a mental dysfunction is “crazy”.

Even if you’ve never experienced depression, can we all agree that the people who do experience it don’t want to? Who wants to feel lethargic, moody, uninterested in being around their loved ones (just a few of the symptoms)?

Some of us more seasoned depressives (mine dates back to onset in my college days) have been through all of the psychiatry and psychotherapy steps (sometimes more than once!). The best we can hope for is to understand the feelings and symptoms, acknowledge them and let them run their course. In a sense, it’s like having a really bad case of the flu…there is nothing to do except try to ease the symptoms and acknowledge that, with time (and maybe a change in the constant gloomy weather), we’ll pick ourselves up by our boot straps and get back to living life. And while we may not feel the need to get (back) into psychotherapy, we may be seasoned enough to be okay letting others know that we’re feeling depressed.

And this, my readers, is where my title fits in. Depression IS a disease, but it is NOT contagious! You can’t catch it from a depressed person just by being with them. But what you can do, if someone is brave enough to share these vulnerable feelings, is ask what you might be able to do for them. Helping them – whether asking if they’d like to talk about it, or maybe offering to take them out to eat to get them outside of themselves, however temporarily, or a text simply asking them how they’re feeling, maybe a funny joke or meme shared across social media – all of these will give them moments of respite from being inside themselves. But, it’s important that you give this your attention, as much as if it were a physical trauma. Don’t offer ‘advice’ – things you think they should try or do. Don’t simply say something like, “Gee, I hope you feel better soon” or, worse yet, completely ignore the experience. And perhaps worst, don’t tell them to “get over it”! If someone is courageous enough to share with you that they are having “mental problems”, don’t disregard that they are suffering, even if you can’t physically see it. Be present and be honored that they trust you enough to not fear judgement or rejection. And keep being present. You may be the only link they have to normalcy at a time when everything is abnormal.

Martyrdom is alive and well…

The history of the word ‘martyr’ was applied to those who were willing to sacrifice their own lives for their beliefs. The word ‘martyr’ comes from the Greek for “witness” and was applied to the apostles who were witness to Christ’s life and resurrection. By the second century it evolved from being used to describe those who were put on trial for admittedly being Christians even though it would mean their deaths and grew to include any person who suffered execution for their religious beliefs (not just Christians). Martyrs were people who believed in an afterlife and salvation so glorious that the reward of heaven was more important than mere mortal life on earth.

Nonetheless, it was understood that the deliberate courting of death was clearly sinful. The worthy would be gifted martyrdom by God. To try and achieve martyrdom by one’s own efforts was an act of defiance. However, there were those who did not merely volunteer for martyrdom, they chose to provoke it. They smashed idols, disrupted pagan rituals and assaulted temple priests knowing they would die in the ensuing violence. The ideology of martyrdom had shifted subtly – for some, martyrs did not simply die for God, now they killed and terrorized in His name.

In some religions, suicide bombers are considered martyrs, despite an old-time law which decreed that those who killed in retaliation were to be denied the name of martyr.

But, as my title notes, martyrdom is alive and well in our modern times. The word’s meaning has grown to represent not only those who are willing to die for their beliefs, but those who are willing to suffer for them. It also no longer applies just to religious beliefs.

In this writer’s opinion, a modern-day martyr is one who feeds one’s insecurities by, in a way, over-giving. There is something to be said about the power that comes from the “Woe is me!” or “Alas!” – picture one with head thrown back and arm resting upon forehead as a visual of a long-suffering martyr who has given beyond his/her well-being – financially, physically, emotionally and/or spiritually. Understand that inside the mind of this martyr, there is internal recognition that whatever has been given has been a self-sacrifice. No matter the cost, it allows self-recognition of how truly caring that person is to give so much to another, with no thought of self. What few modern-day martyrs realize is that giving with no thought of self is a selfish act, because it allows them to – at least temporarily – assuage their feelings of little self-worth. And along the way, there is, perhaps, the possibility of recognition.

A commonplace idea of a martyr occurs in the work place. How many of us, at least once in our lives, went beyond what was comfortable doing “for the good of the company”? It might be as small as taking on a co-workers assigned tasks as well as your own when that co-worker is out sick for several days. It might be putting in extra hours without compensation to help the company complete a deadline. It might be doing some personal work for a supervisor/boss that means you’ll have to work harder to finish your own business work. Why do we do it? The simple answer is because we want to prove that we are a team player. The more complex answer is that we are hoping for some kind of recognition for the extra we’ve taken on. Few realize that the more you are willing to take on, the more you’ll be given to take on. And a martyr continues to do more and more, waiting and hoping that it’s the next added task he/she takes on which will be the one that will finally produce that much-desired recognition.

I believe that this is one of the things that contributes to burn-out. You give more and more of yourself “for the good of the company” (or so you believe) and you find yourself suddenly cringing at the thought of going back to work each day, each week, subconsciously denying that something won’t change. My friend, wake up! The company is only interested in its bottom line! The stockholders aren’t interested in the individuals making them money, only in how much money those individuals are making them!

While the career martyr is one of the most common, there are other types as well. Sometimes we go out of our way for others to show them how ‘wonderful’ we are. Again, our insecurities are in force. A martyr often doesn’t believe that they are worthy to have people like them for exactly who they are, so they add little gifts along the way to assure themselves that others will see them as worthwhile having in their lives. Again, it might be as simple as a silly greeting card sent in the mail (“Don’t forget I’m here!”) to making meals for them (“Don’t forget you like my cooking!”) It might be a little trinket of appreciation in some form just because (“See, I’m always thinking of you!”). There is a subconscious need to remind these people to whom we want to feel important that we have gifts for them if they just keep us in their lives. Only when a martyr is able to recognize and believe that he/she has value as a person will they be able to break the cycle of martyrdom.

The cycle is difficult to break. It is also an ongoing process. The ‘giving’ portion of martyrdom becomes ingrained as though it is as natural as breathing. It is only when one chooses to give conscious thought to all of the things they do for others that are gifted for self-ego can they begin to recover.

Readers, I share this information with you not from research, but from personal experience. I’ve been doing these things in different ways for over 40 years. I’ve only recently become cognizant that I “move on” or “move away” from relationships when it becomes clear that I will never be able to give enough – or do enough – to get the acknowledgement my subconscious needs in order to feel worthwhile. The recognition of this trait is not a pleasant experience and processing it in the past days has left me feeling a little lack-luster. I’ve written – and re-written and re-written again – this paragraph of ownership, trying to salvage a little of my pride while being vulnerable about it. My saving grace is that my instinct tell me I’m not the only modern-day martyr existing in this world. And since I remind my bestie (who holds her emotions inside with a vice-like grip) to put it out in the universe and let it exist, then I feel compelled to do the same with this….

Ugly Uber Experience

This certainly isn’t a post I ever thought I’d be writing….but then, I never thought I would be a passenger in an Uber vehicle, either!

My bestie had to have eye surgery on June 11th, and the surgery center was about 1-1/2 hours away, just outside of Philadelphia. Her husband is unable to drive that distance so I volunteered to be chauffeur, even though the territory was foreign to my experience and I was a little trepid about getting lost or stuck in traffic. The surgery center was able to arrange a transport for us (at a cost), if we were able to meet it at a hotel only about 1/2 hour from us. I was all for that!

We were told to meet the driver at 7:30 AM and that he would be driving a black car and dressed in a tuxedo. Fortunately for us, he was just in the white shirt and vest with black pants (I would have felt unworthy riding behind a man dressed in a full tuxedo!). He was there about 10 minutes early – and we were already there as well. Once we got our seatbelts figured out for the back seat, we were off. Our driver introduced himself as Joe, so we introduced ourselves to him. After that, he was quiet and my bestie and I just chatted through the drive. When we arrived at the surgery center, he helped us out of the car, walked with us into the lobby and took the elevator with us to the second floor. He held the door open for us as we entered the office area and politely spoke to the lady that he was dropping us off and told us another driver would be transporting us back after the surgery was over.

It was a pleasant experience! It was so nice not to have to be white-knuckled getting over the Surekill – oops, I mean, Sckuykill – River in heavy traffic. It was nice to be walked into the building and introduced to the staff.

To make a long story short, the doctor performing her surgery ended up being behind; her surgery was scheduled for 10 AM and they didn’t even call her to go back until 10:50 AM. (Later, she told me she waited for a while once she was on the litter until they actually took her into the surgery suite).

That being said, by the time she was brought back out, it was well after 12:30 PM. Once we got all of her paperwork together and got back to the desk to ask about our return transit ride, we were told the transit ride was no longer available because they had anticipated a frame of time for it and the doctor’s lateness caused that frame of time to elapse. But not to worry, we were told. They had arranged an Uber driver to come get us and return us to the hotel where my car was parked. We were given a sticky note with the name Damian on it, as well as the model information that it was a white Toyota Avalon, and the license plate number. We were told he was only 3 minutes away.

We went down the elevator to wait outside. It was unusually cool in the waiting room, even for me, who tends to run warm. She’d been laying and I’d been sitting, so we wanted to stretch our legs and stand in the sunshine.

A silver car pulled up past the entranceway and sat idling at the curb. He paid no attention to us, even though we were standing there. After about a minute, my bestie walked over and asked through the open passenger window what his name was. I didn’t hear his response clearly but it didn’t sound anything close to Damian. Just as she was explaining to him that we were waiting on an Uber, I walked around to the back of the car, looked at the license plate, and it exactly matched the numbers on my sticky note. I heard her ask him if his name was Damian – again I couldn’t make out what he was saying – but his answer must have satisfied her. I helped her into the back seat on the passenger side, then climbed into the back seat on the driver’s side. I apologized for the confusion, explaining that we had been told to look for a white vehicle, not a silver one. He started grumbling about how they always get that information wrong, even though he’s contacted them repeatedly and even completed a new application. (Whatever!)

My bestie, bless her heart, was following doctor’s orders and sitting with her head down, chin to her chest. I chose not to start a conversation but let her rest since she’d had quit an ordeal.

Unfortunately our Uber driver thought that the silence meant he was supposed to fill the air with sound. He started talking, all about himself. I don’t even remember most of what he said, probably because I was focused on biting my tongue to keep from telling him to “Shut the f___ up, already!” He’s also not filtering his wording to be at all professional, so there were a number of mild swear words coming from his mouth.

So he’s talking and we’re driving along and suddenly he asks us if we should be on the turnpike. (Seriously, you’re the one with a tablet-sized GPS sitting just to your right, and you’re asking us????) I mentioned that we had made the trip to the facility using the turnpike, so probably yes? He snarled a little bit, but detoured so we were on the turnpike. It’s at this time he mentioned that he doesn’t know what the toll will be, but he never carries cash. (Oh, great! Now we’re going to have to fork out the toll cost, even though this entire trip, including gratuity, was set at a flat rate and paid for!)

While my bestie and I both grab our wallets in case we’re going to have to pay the toll, our exit appears. While I agree that it’s odd, one EZPass lane veers off to the right and the remainder of the exit lanes – EZPass and ticket – are a hundred or so feet up ahead. So what does this driver do? He takes the lane to the right! We weren’t sure what he was doing, as he clearly did not have an EZPass pass. He ends up breezing through the exit without stopping, meanwhile uttering irately about how the only exit was for the pass! (Was he so blind that he didn’t see the additional lanes straight ahead that I could clearly see from behind him? Did he really not have any money to pay the toll? Did he not actually know that a copy of his license plate is now in the turnpike commission’s hands and he will be fined for the highest toll on that strip of the turnpike?)

Fortunately, our location was just .2 miles from the exit, so he quickly pulled up to the entrance of the hotel. I got out, went to the other side to help my bestie out, and he was gone! I don’t know the last time I’ve said aloud, “Good riddance!” but I sure did then!

The rest of our trip home was uneventful. As it was a long day and close to 2:30 PM, I got her safely in the door and situated, then headed home for a nap.

Now… I’m hoping that this experience is not the norm. As I said in my introduction, I never suspected I’d be an Uber rider. If the ride hadn’t been directly paid for by the surgery company and I had some way to contact the company (heck, I wouldn’t even know what driver’s name to tell them!) I would do so. I am, however, wanting to hear about other’s successes – or heaven forbid, failures – at using this particular system for traveling. So if you’ve had the experience and have feedback to share, please leave it in the comments!

The Age of Disposability

I intend to take my dysfunctional laptop (see my post called “Cha-Cha-Cha-Changes” for reference) to a place that recycles electronics. I am an avid recycler in any way I can be; our local library has a special dumpster for all things paper, and they make a few pennies per pound for what is deposited there. Our borough recycles glass, most plastics and aluminum cans. My bestie’s son works for a company that has a cardboard recycle bin, so he is kind enough to take my broken down boxes to work with him to recycle the cardboard.

And yet, the majority of our tangible products today have become disposable. Paper plates, paper towels, paper napkins, disposable hot and cold drinking cups and diapers are just a few items I can readily think of which are used once (and often for a limited time) then placed in the trash. And we think nothing of it!

Listen, I’m part of the group of people who uses – maybe sometimes abuses – disposable products. I certainly try to reuse what I can in addition to all of the items I recycle. But I do not want to go back to the days of hankies that were used, washed and ironed to be reused. Trust me, with my sinus and allergy issues, I believe I am successfully keeping the tissue brand I use in business! My old place here does not have a dishwasher, so yes, I am going to use a paper plate for meals like sandwiches.

I also do a bit of donating to our local thrift store when I have items in good condition that no longer serve me. I belong to a paperback swap site, and books that don’t get requested in a fair amount of time either go to the local library for their semi-annual book sale or also to the thrift shop to sell to someone else. I even have a dresser drawer with a few slightly stained tee-shirts and pants that I wear when I’m going to be doing some heavy cleaning, thus keeping my unstained clothes in good shape for regular wear.

I can remember the days that, when something broke, the man of the house would take it to his work bench and attempt to repair it. It could be the cord on a small appliance. Maybe it’s a table lamp that needs a new socket. The point is, that generation spent a few cents to fix an item rather than a few dollars to replace it.

Some time ago there was a big “stink” about the K-cup and how many of them were making their way to landfills. Guilty! What gets me is when people are making remarks about this while carrying a disposable coffee cup – with plastic, unrecyclable lid – from their favorite convenience store or coffee shop. (My mother would say, “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”)

Now we’re all about plastic straws. A few places are going back to paper straws. They too are considered trash but will eventually break down in some future generation. And there is great ado about our oceans being full of trash. But… isn’t that because there are members of our society who are either too lazy to dispose of their trash appropriately – or maybe too self-centered. Whatever the reason, we are all facing the consequences of a few people’s thoughtless acts.

When I think about it, we do make a lot of trash. Not all of it is our fault, since stores usually package meat on a Styrofoam-type tray with plastic wrap. Cereal boxes may be recyclable (in some places, they are) but that plastic-type bag holding the cereal inside the box is not.

I obviously do not have a solution to this growing mountain of an issue. I don’t see myself being willing to give up most of the disposable items I use. And yes, I therefore shoulder some responsibility for the trash that is seemingly overtaking our world. Yet, on the other hand, I feel entitled to push others to recycle what they can and whenever they can. I’ve taken bags of aluminum cans from a business site that is not required to recycle home with me and put them in our recycling bins. I try to find a new use or a new home for items I no longer need for their original purpose. Because the library’s paper recycling center is close to me, I’m now picking up paper recyclables by the bag from my hairdresser, who previously wasn’t recycling them.

I’m doing what I can. And I’m asking you to do the same. It may require a little bit of time and attention, but knowing you’re doing your part to save Mother Earth is a worthy reward!

My New Community

At the risk of admitting this, I was never interested in reading blogs before I decided to start my own. My brother (my life hero and my blog inspiration) has had a blog for some years now, though he took a sabbatical from writing in it for a while. I’d always read his, given him my likes and occasional comments. But that was where it stopped.

Until I started writing. When you use the Word Press software (which is free, by the way!), signing on shows you the community of bloggers also using the same software. I looked at a few blogs and decided to follow quite a few of them. The blogs I follow are an eccentric bunch – some blogs are short, some are long. Some stay on the course of a central topic, some (like me) ramble on with whatever crosses their mind. Some add photos throughout their blog posts, some do not.

The people who write blogs are just as eccentric as their topics. There are young bloggers and old bloggers, some male, some female, of differing religions and races. I follow one person who has a Ph.D. in psychology and offers some great insights into the human psyche. I follow one who is a ‘cat lady’, but she also writes about antics at the gym where she goes. One is a young lady who, based on what she’s shared, hasn’t had the easiest life so far but somehow remains without an ounce of cynicism in her stories. And there is one, a woman twice-divorced, who offers great tips for anyone in any stage of divorce in their own lives. In addition, a former colleague with whom I’ve remained friends is off traveling through Italy and started a blog of her adventure which I now follow.

We are as diverse as any group of people can be. But we are all bound by this need to express ourselves to others – our stories, our thoughts, our fears – and to share with others the lessons of life that we have learned.

So, what about you? Do you feel you have something you want to say? Are there stories in your life so rich that they ought to be shared to enrich others with them? Maybe you’ve experienced a tough time (or two) in your life and want to offer tips and insights to anyone facing a similar circumstance. Whatever your reason, if you want to write, I encourage you to join our community! What are you waiting for?

Meanwhile, check out the blogs I follow: commonsensiblyspeaking.wordpress.com, makeitultrapsychology.wordpress.com, damseldivorcee.com, coffeekatblog.com, rachelmankowitz.com and thegreatadventure.blog.