Epiphany Wednesday

 

I may have to reconsider Spring as my favourite season after this March and April unless NEO can get its weather under control. (80 degrees one day; 50 and rain the next! How about frost overnight?) It's been one shitful migraine after another, and I lost so many days of walking and Being A Person that I cannot even stand to think about it. A steroid pack finally gave me some relief after one particular migraine episode held me prisoner for 5 full days. 

And so on.

Anyway.

As I kept telling Rick--and myself--"Bet I don't die from it." And here we are.

On Wednesday I was feeling terrific. Finally able to go out for walks again, I was loving the flowering trees everywhere, magnolia, crabapple, redbud, cherry and weeping cherry, pear, and apple. Lilacs have started to bloom, and their scent was everywhere, along with hyacinths. Daffodils and bright red and yellow tulips (the only ones safe from squirrels) are flourishing. 

I had a doctor's appointment where I was pronounced Perfect. I love my doctor, a warm but brisk woman who is genuine and kind. She laughs with me and tells me that she loves talking with me; that I'm always so real. I left there feeling buoyant and grateful.

On the way home, exactly at the place where Rick had his accident, a car ran the stop sign and pulled out in front of me. I jammed on the brakes and thudded to a stop not 3 feet from its passenger side with no time to look in my rearview mirror to see if anyone was behind me. It continued blithely on its way. 

Fortunately, no one was behind me. I merely continued driving down the road behind the person who almost caused me to hit him. We went on that way for about a half mile until that car turned off and I went home. Rick met me on the patio, and I sat down on a chair beside him, suddenly overcome with what had happened.

I told him about the near miss. I told him that right then, what I wanted to do was to go get freshened up and then head over to the neighborhood brewery to get a drink and try to relax. "I was so happy. I got such a good report from the doctor, too. And...it's just that I have so much to lose now," I said, thinking especially of Theo. "It wouldn't even have been my fault."

We soon headed up to the brew pub. A former student of mine, J, is the manager, and we've gotten to know everyone there. I settled in, chatting and sipping, and soon a gentleman and his Chihuahua came in. He grabbed a seat next to us, plopped his dog in one, too, and barked an order for "whatever is six bucks" at the bartender. He then proceeded to complain to J about the high prices "just for one beer. It's ridiculous when you can get a six pack of Pabst or Bud Light for that price." He then turned to Rick and me. "You know what I mean? Don't you think?"

Rick and I both answered. We love supporting small businesses, and we're happy that this brewery moved in and want it to do well. We like the people. We mentioned those things along with the fact that we think C, who is the owner and brewer, is an artisan and makes terrific craft beers. All those things are good for the community/city.

He waved our comments away impatiently. "Oh, I know C. I've been coming here since it opened. But what the heck is he doing, charging so much? And what about cans? Don't you got anything in cans?"

J tried to explain that putting the beer in cans has gotten too expensive, then had to wait on someone else. Rick jumped in and explained that it required paying another company for labor and materials. I explained that because of tariffs, the cost of aluminum is especially prohibitive now, and that C offers refillable glass growlers as an alternative.

I'm sure you can guess what happened next. The buzzword Tariff was all he needed to hear. He automatically assumed all of us were felon rapist supporters, and made a complimentary comment regarding him. Then he said, "I don't know if you're in favor of him or not, but--"

"Not at all," I said. 

"No, we're not," Rick said.

What followed from there was what he wanted to call "just a discussion," but was mainly a sad parroting of ignorance and maga talking points, all of which I deftly, calmly, respectfully refuted, and he countered with blatantly false bullshit. At one point Rick touched my elbow, said "Nance" sotto voce, and tried to get me to stop. "You came here to relax, remember."

But I wasn't going to just stop because that's where we make our mistake. We back down and we shake our head and we just. stop. And to Them, that's a victory. They think they've won, and in a way, they have. So I just kept at him. And at him. I slapped back at all his bullshit and made him eat it. And not once did I lose my temper or my composure or my dignity. Actually, it was like being in the classroom. I had some teaching to do, and I was keeping it real. In about five minutes he took his six-dollar beer and wandered outside. 

One of the bartenders thanked me. Tending bar is a part-time gig for her. She's a federal worker for the VA; she works from home and is terrified she will be in the next round of cuts. My former student J hugged me and told me again that she loves me. The other bartender said, "I was listening to the whole thing. You were great and we hate that guy."

You'd think at this age, I wouldn't have too many epiphanies left, but Wednesday proved that wrong. I've spent 48 years of my life fighting migraines. Each time I get one, I feel a little bit like a failure, but I still fight it and fight it. I've spent longer than that fighting ignorance and injustices big and small. And I've fought in many arenas for the good of my family. And my students. On Wednesday something happened that could have taken it all away, something completely out of my control. That just makes me more determined to fight the battles I can impact that much harder.

*my image, a truck I saw at a train crossing

Wednesday: Weather, Work, And The Wonderful World Of Peanuts

Wednesday morning was cold, grey, and threatening rain. Our forecast looked bleak and foreboding:  more high winds and heavy rain showers were on the way, and we were under a flood watch. When Rick left early for the gym, I grabbed my grocery list and headed out for the store. If I didn't dawdle, I might beat the rain entirely.

Because there weren't too many items on my list, I was able to get through the store in pretty good time. I did have a brief and spirited discussion with a gentleman as I grabbed a bag of raw peanuts in the shell. He wondered why I liked raw peanuts, and I explained that I buy them not for myself, but for the blue jays. "But how do they eat them? Do they bust them out of the shell or eat the shell or what?" he asked, fascinated. I told him, and he was astonished. "I been buying birds the jars of shelled peanuts, and now you tell me I coulda been buying these bags? They's so much cheaper!" 

I didn't have the heart to tell him that, all along, he also could have been buying three-pound bags of shelled, raw peanuts in the bird food aisle up front. Who knows how he'd have taken the news?

Only two cashiers were available this early in the morning, and I didn't know either of them. That's been the rule more than the exception lately. And the employees in general have gotten older. The woman who rang me up was probably in her late 50s/early 60s.

She was pleasant and efficient. "Let me wrap up that meat in a plastic bag before you put it in your bag," she said. "I don't want it to leak, possibly. I used to work in food service, and that has stayed with me."

In the course of me bagging my groceries in my reusable bags, I learned that she:

*was a manager then regional manager for Taco Bell and took many food safety/food science courses

*left that to work in health care and then took care of her husband who had cancer and early-onset Alzheimer's

*worked in various retail jobs and in the service industry

"You've really had a varied career," I said, "and in each job you've had, you really relied on your basic skill set, being organized, efficient, and good at working with people."

"Well, except for working with teenagers when I was their manager," she said. "That about drove me crazy."

I smiled. "I was a high school teacher for 30 years," I said. "I loved it. I love teenagers."

"Oh wow," she said. "You win!"

******

I wasn't thinking about my victory on my way home--I wasn't even aware there had been a competition. Instead, I started thinking about all the jobs I've had and how, perhaps, they've had an impact on me. Here's a list of all the jobs I've had, paid and unpaid, since I started working, starting with babysitting.

1. Babysitting

2. Paper Route

3. Reading Tutor

4. Catechism Teacher

5. Bank Teller

6. Pet Department Clerk

7. Warehouse Worker

8. Substitute Teacher

9. Teacher

10. Freelance Writer/Editor

I do think the majority of these have influenced me, and I have lots of memories--good and bad--about all of them. Maybe I'll write about several of them in subsequent blog posts. Some of you may be curious about #4. (I still can't believe that one myself.)

Is your list of jobs a long one or short? Do you find yourself in conversation in the grocery store? Is there a job that you miss?

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