Sunday, December 18, 2011
Why are people? Sigh....
So, I was just at the drug store making some more Christmas cards ( I know, making your own Christmas cards at the drug store - that's a whole 'nother thing), and hear a dog barking. Then while I'm paying for the cards, the woman with the dog, a mid-size poodle-y looking thing, comes in line behind me, so naturally I turn and hold my hand down towards the dog and she says 'Oh, no don't do that, h...e'll bark or . . . . He's not a friendly dog" and she picked it up. Now, call me kooky, but if I had a dog that wasn't friendly and might 'or . . . ' at people, I damn sure wouldn't bring it into a store where there are people, especially kids, who might not be cautious about reaching for a strange animal, and might get, I don't know, bit, 'or . . .' whatever. Get your dog socialized or don't bring it into places where people are, you MOron! And if it bites a kid and you get sued, you'll be all 'why are they doing that to ME?' No doubt a *&#%ing cidiot. Why are people? Sigh.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
“Neighbors Helping Neighbors”
Went to a spaghetti supper tonight, a benefit at the firehouse, for a family in town. She’s battling breast cancer, and some friends got together and decided to help them out. The place was packed. Of course, having it two days after Thanksgiving, when everybody needs a break from turkey leftovers, didn’t hurt, but it sure did show the support that a town can give to its friends. Besides the supper, there was a silent auction, and a 50/50 drawing, the gallon jar for that was full and they’d run out of the printed tickets by the time we got ours. Three tables loaded with desserts, all donated. The woman thanked me for coming as we were leaving; I said “Good food, good friends, for good people” and gave her a hug. I’d be willing to bet that the show of support helps them as much as the money. Neighbors Helping Neighbors.
We do this. We rally with donations, like the one I made this morning to help with vet expenses for the dog that escaped a tragic fire a few days ago; her master and another dog did not escape. No, I don’t know them, but it doesn’t matter. People in the town they live in put together a car wash, to help the rest of the family with expenses, and I’m sure there will be more such events before it’s all done. Neighbors help neighbors.
It happens all over. Those not affected, no, even those who are affected get together and do what they can to help. I saw it at the pig roast up in Upper Jay last month, where area people came and ate and drank and visited and gave each other monetary and moral support. I saw it a couple of weeks later, when musicians gave their time and talent for a concert to raise money for HelpJayNY, to a packed house in the Indian Lake movie theatre. I saw it when I helped pack a truck of donated things to be sent to New York after 9/11, in the three truckloads of things collected in Chatham that we took to South Florida after Hurricane Andrew, in the dozens of people who descended on the Gulf areas to rescue animals after Hurricane Katrina, in the SUV load of donations our audience brought this summer for the troops overseas, and so many more examples throughout our country. Neighbors help neighbors, even when they are hundreds of miles away and we’ve never met them.
We got a bunch of help for the kids affected when our cast house burned in July – from patrons, from people who had been at the theatre in years past, from people who didn’t know them, but who wanted to help out. Also got so much support at our fund-raising Gala-wow!
Here’s what I think - we help, because we can, because we feel better for it, because it’s the right thing to do, and maybe also because we’re glad it’s not us – this time – but someday it might be and we hope that other neighbors will help neighbors. Go ahead, help your neighbor.
We do this. We rally with donations, like the one I made this morning to help with vet expenses for the dog that escaped a tragic fire a few days ago; her master and another dog did not escape. No, I don’t know them, but it doesn’t matter. People in the town they live in put together a car wash, to help the rest of the family with expenses, and I’m sure there will be more such events before it’s all done. Neighbors help neighbors.
It happens all over. Those not affected, no, even those who are affected get together and do what they can to help. I saw it at the pig roast up in Upper Jay last month, where area people came and ate and drank and visited and gave each other monetary and moral support. I saw it a couple of weeks later, when musicians gave their time and talent for a concert to raise money for HelpJayNY, to a packed house in the Indian Lake movie theatre. I saw it when I helped pack a truck of donated things to be sent to New York after 9/11, in the three truckloads of things collected in Chatham that we took to South Florida after Hurricane Andrew, in the dozens of people who descended on the Gulf areas to rescue animals after Hurricane Katrina, in the SUV load of donations our audience brought this summer for the troops overseas, and so many more examples throughout our country. Neighbors help neighbors, even when they are hundreds of miles away and we’ve never met them.
We got a bunch of help for the kids affected when our cast house burned in July – from patrons, from people who had been at the theatre in years past, from people who didn’t know them, but who wanted to help out. Also got so much support at our fund-raising Gala-wow!
Here’s what I think - we help, because we can, because we feel better for it, because it’s the right thing to do, and maybe also because we’re glad it’s not us – this time – but someday it might be and we hope that other neighbors will help neighbors. Go ahead, help your neighbor.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Hurricane Irene hits the Adirondacks
The river babbles behind us as we carry things to a storage container parked on the front lawn. Two months ago Hurricane Irene tore through the area with record-breaking rains that turned the now benign stream, about maybe 20 feet wide, into a raging torrent that leapt over it’s banks, surged across lawns and roads, through houses and businesses, tearing up trees, buildings, pavement and lives. Now the couple is moving memories to install a new heating system. “The neighbor’s barn was there”, she points to the corner of an ell on the back, the river side, of their old mountain farmhouse that has withstood many other storms in it’s almost 200 years. “It caught on our house and the water went under it”. The water dug a hole more than five feet deep under their house and tore out the foundation, went into the basement and destroyed the furnace and everything else there. “There were five brook trout on the floor”, she adds.
The course of the river changed, “it’s about 20 feet closer to our house now, and it just drops off, there used to be lawn there and a gentle slope down to the water”, I am shown. “I miss our lawn”. An old cedar tree was torn up by the roots when the water surged by, she had some of it pulled near the house to use the wood for something, she’s not sure what. The trunk is a good foot and a half thick.
They are just one of dozens of families whose lives were torn up by the roots when Hurricane Irene’s torrential rains hit the Adirondacks on August 28. The water came from the tops of the mountains in this High Peaks region, rushing to small streams and sometimes taking parts of the mountains with it. The small streams held what they could and the rest stormed of their banks onto fields, forest, lawns and roads. When the streams got to the Ausable River’s East Branch, which runs through the towns of Keene, Upper Jay and Jay it did the same thing.
Two branches of the Ausable River, West and East, flow through two valleys and meet at the village of Ausable Forks – where the water was up to the door handles of the pizza parlor, two blocks from either river. “It’s probably in Ausable Chasm” is a catch phrase about things that were washed away. It’s about 20 miles from Ausable Forks to the popular tourist spot where the river narrows and pours through deep rock walls before broadening out and finally dumping into Lake Champlain.
You first see some damage on Route 73, where pavement was torn up by what are usually tiny brooks you can step across; orange cones and new pavement now line the road. Then you notice the storage containers beside houses that are near a stream. Then, turning onto Route 9N and heading north, some houses are empty, some have piles of rubble outside: possessions and walls heaped together to be taken away. Near the house where I was helping several piles of trees, bushes, branches, boards and bicycles and more sit in the trees between the road and the river. She found her kayak under one of the piles, pulled it out and set it in the sun, undamaged.
On a side road I take photos of piles of trees and rocks, then notice that some of the rocks are black, look closer and see that some of those have yellow stripes on them - it’s not rocks, it’s pieces of pavement, torn up and left there by the water of a small brook as it raced past to join the bigger river and add to the woes downstream.
Along the road, which runs beside the river from Keene to Keesville, pieces of buildings, furniture, scraps of clothing and trees lie in fields, along the river bank, stuck in trees and on guard rails. Bridge abutments are scraped to the top by the debris pushed past. In Jay, the water was up to the bottom of the recently restored covered bridge, some 20 feet above the normal height of the river. An 8 foot high wall of 2 foot thick concrete blocks on the opposite side of the road from the river is marked about a foot from the bottom with ‘April, 2011’, showing the depth of the flooding then. Now added, at the top, with arrows pointing up, is “Hurricane Irene, August 28, 2011’. On the other side it says “Irene was here-don’t come back!’
Firehouses in Keene and Upper Jay are empty, with damage that might not be repairable. In Upper Jay, the fire chief gave the order to move the trucks just in time; the water was up to the doors as the volunteers drove them out. The hamlet’s library was flooded, the soccer and ball fields destroyed, a woman watched her livelihood float away as she stood downstream from her antique shop.
The once popular family attraction Land of Make Believe, no longer operating but with many of the memorable pieces still in place, is now bare, with piles of sand pushed from the road to open it to traffic standing in what once was a parking area filled with excited children. A pony kept there was swept away.
Near where one town road meets the highway, a three car garage blocked the view of the field behind it. Now you can see the whole field, there is no trace of the garage. You can also see a house in the middle of the field; it used to be beside the road, a hundred yards or so away.
Upper Jay is tiny, with just a few people and fewer businesses in the hamlet. One, a motel, opened for refugees until they could return to their houses, or make other arrangements if that was not an option. A woman tells me that she brought food from Lake Placid, 20 plus miles away, for them. “People in Lake Placid had no idea, we didn’t get this kind of damage”, she says, adding that some of the things that were sent were “Lake Placid people’s idea of what these folks needed – a chocolatier sent boxes of fancy chocolates” and she shakes her head.
People are picking up and putting their lives back together. Some may not be able to. The neighbor of the couple I was helping may not, their house has been condemned. Some say ‘well, they live in a flood plain, they should expect it’. You can’t expect a ‘500 year flood’, as this is being called. ‘They should move’, those same people say. To where? With what?
No, it wasn’t as big and bad as Katrina’s flooding of New Orleans. Or the tornadoes in the southeast, perhaps. Or maybe not event he scope of the destruction when the floods took out the towns in the Catskills. But for the people affected, it is. When it’s your disaster, it’s big. This is big, for that area.
To help: www.helpjayny.com
.
The course of the river changed, “it’s about 20 feet closer to our house now, and it just drops off, there used to be lawn there and a gentle slope down to the water”, I am shown. “I miss our lawn”. An old cedar tree was torn up by the roots when the water surged by, she had some of it pulled near the house to use the wood for something, she’s not sure what. The trunk is a good foot and a half thick.
They are just one of dozens of families whose lives were torn up by the roots when Hurricane Irene’s torrential rains hit the Adirondacks on August 28. The water came from the tops of the mountains in this High Peaks region, rushing to small streams and sometimes taking parts of the mountains with it. The small streams held what they could and the rest stormed of their banks onto fields, forest, lawns and roads. When the streams got to the Ausable River’s East Branch, which runs through the towns of Keene, Upper Jay and Jay it did the same thing.
Two branches of the Ausable River, West and East, flow through two valleys and meet at the village of Ausable Forks – where the water was up to the door handles of the pizza parlor, two blocks from either river. “It’s probably in Ausable Chasm” is a catch phrase about things that were washed away. It’s about 20 miles from Ausable Forks to the popular tourist spot where the river narrows and pours through deep rock walls before broadening out and finally dumping into Lake Champlain.
You first see some damage on Route 73, where pavement was torn up by what are usually tiny brooks you can step across; orange cones and new pavement now line the road. Then you notice the storage containers beside houses that are near a stream. Then, turning onto Route 9N and heading north, some houses are empty, some have piles of rubble outside: possessions and walls heaped together to be taken away. Near the house where I was helping several piles of trees, bushes, branches, boards and bicycles and more sit in the trees between the road and the river. She found her kayak under one of the piles, pulled it out and set it in the sun, undamaged.
On a side road I take photos of piles of trees and rocks, then notice that some of the rocks are black, look closer and see that some of those have yellow stripes on them - it’s not rocks, it’s pieces of pavement, torn up and left there by the water of a small brook as it raced past to join the bigger river and add to the woes downstream.
Along the road, which runs beside the river from Keene to Keesville, pieces of buildings, furniture, scraps of clothing and trees lie in fields, along the river bank, stuck in trees and on guard rails. Bridge abutments are scraped to the top by the debris pushed past. In Jay, the water was up to the bottom of the recently restored covered bridge, some 20 feet above the normal height of the river. An 8 foot high wall of 2 foot thick concrete blocks on the opposite side of the road from the river is marked about a foot from the bottom with ‘April, 2011’, showing the depth of the flooding then. Now added, at the top, with arrows pointing up, is “Hurricane Irene, August 28, 2011’. On the other side it says “Irene was here-don’t come back!’
Firehouses in Keene and Upper Jay are empty, with damage that might not be repairable. In Upper Jay, the fire chief gave the order to move the trucks just in time; the water was up to the doors as the volunteers drove them out. The hamlet’s library was flooded, the soccer and ball fields destroyed, a woman watched her livelihood float away as she stood downstream from her antique shop.
The once popular family attraction Land of Make Believe, no longer operating but with many of the memorable pieces still in place, is now bare, with piles of sand pushed from the road to open it to traffic standing in what once was a parking area filled with excited children. A pony kept there was swept away.
Near where one town road meets the highway, a three car garage blocked the view of the field behind it. Now you can see the whole field, there is no trace of the garage. You can also see a house in the middle of the field; it used to be beside the road, a hundred yards or so away.
Upper Jay is tiny, with just a few people and fewer businesses in the hamlet. One, a motel, opened for refugees until they could return to their houses, or make other arrangements if that was not an option. A woman tells me that she brought food from Lake Placid, 20 plus miles away, for them. “People in Lake Placid had no idea, we didn’t get this kind of damage”, she says, adding that some of the things that were sent were “Lake Placid people’s idea of what these folks needed – a chocolatier sent boxes of fancy chocolates” and she shakes her head.
People are picking up and putting their lives back together. Some may not be able to. The neighbor of the couple I was helping may not, their house has been condemned. Some say ‘well, they live in a flood plain, they should expect it’. You can’t expect a ‘500 year flood’, as this is being called. ‘They should move’, those same people say. To where? With what?
No, it wasn’t as big and bad as Katrina’s flooding of New Orleans. Or the tornadoes in the southeast, perhaps. Or maybe not event he scope of the destruction when the floods took out the towns in the Catskills. But for the people affected, it is. When it’s your disaster, it’s big. This is big, for that area.
To help: www.helpjayny.com
.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
A 9-11 Ceremony
Our local fire department, like others across the country, had a small ceremony this morning to commemorate the 10th anniversary of 9-11. A flag hung from the extended ladder, black cloth draped the windshield of a pumper, and turnout gear stood in front of it: empty coat, boots, bunker pants and helmet to signify the gear not to be worn again by those gone.
Some of the firefighters spoke; where they were, what they were doing – just as most of us are remembering the same things about that day. One woman told of fears that a cousin who worked in the towers was lost and the elation when he was finally able to call two days later to tell them he had gone out of the office for coffee – his co-workers perished. A fireman talked about how one plane made it’s turn over our county, how comment was made about the plane flying so low and slow, how unusual that was – not knowing how much more unusual that flight was going to become. A man now a state trooper told how the day created his job, because the State Police forces were increased. Several remembered going to an annual weekend fire school and how every person there jammed an auditorium on Friday night for a memorial service.
One just waved his hand, indicating he had no words to say, and a tear fell from his cheek.
There will be many more ceremonies, one is scheduled this evening at the county 9-11 memorial. There will be many more tears, as more memories are shared.
As we did ten years ago, our country and our people cry, and continue. It would be unfair to those who gave their lives to do otherwise.
Some of the firefighters spoke; where they were, what they were doing – just as most of us are remembering the same things about that day. One woman told of fears that a cousin who worked in the towers was lost and the elation when he was finally able to call two days later to tell them he had gone out of the office for coffee – his co-workers perished. A fireman talked about how one plane made it’s turn over our county, how comment was made about the plane flying so low and slow, how unusual that was – not knowing how much more unusual that flight was going to become. A man now a state trooper told how the day created his job, because the State Police forces were increased. Several remembered going to an annual weekend fire school and how every person there jammed an auditorium on Friday night for a memorial service.
One just waved his hand, indicating he had no words to say, and a tear fell from his cheek.
There will be many more ceremonies, one is scheduled this evening at the county 9-11 memorial. There will be many more tears, as more memories are shared.
As we did ten years ago, our country and our people cry, and continue. It would be unfair to those who gave their lives to do otherwise.
September 11 - Ten Years later
I put on the t-shirt I got on the Comfort, the one that says “Terrorists may crumble buildings, but they can’t touch my patriotism. In memory of those who paid for freedom with the ultimate price. September 11, 2001. God Bless America still the land of the free and the home of the brave.”
I’ll go to the firehouse for an impromptu, short ceremony there, then later read a message, updated from when I first wrote it ten years ago for the truck company newsletter, before our matinee performance.
As everyone, I will have my moment to remember, what I was doing, what I thought and felt and did that day. I will make a moment for those lost, for those still being lost as a result of the attacks in 2001. I will take a moment to be thankful for our American life.
Here’s what I think: We should all do this, not just today, but every day.
My reading:
“Everyone in our country, and beyond, was affected by the tragic events in New York City, Washington DC and Pennsylvania ten years ago today.
I went to New York as a member of an Emergency Medical Services Task Force, went to the scene and saw the destruction that was left of the World Trade Center and saw the desolation on the faces of those going to dig in the rubble, some for their friends and co-workers, some just to help. I stood crying at the ‘wall of tears’, where the pictures and messages from people looking for their loved ones were beyond heartbreaking. I heard the thanks of countless people, strangers, in a city that before was known for its cold, self-centered personality – thanks just because we were there, had come to help and support them.
I can only say that if those who perpetrated and carried out this horrendous crime against humanity thought they were going to bring the United States of America and its people to their knees by these actions, well, they did.
They brought us to our knees to unite in prayer for the victims and their loved ones, and then to add a prayer for the strength and the wisdom and courage to do what must be done next. Then, we stood up with more patriotism and determination than ever and with the resolve that they would not win, that we would keep our life and our freedom and our country and our spirit.
And we did and we can continue to do so.
We can get down on our knees once again and say a prayer for the victims and their families and friends.
We can say “Thank you” and “God Bless You” and “God Be With You” when we see a fire truck or an ambulance or a police car go by, in memory of the brave men and women who ran towards, not away from, the carnage at the World Trade Center and who died doing their job.
We can say a prayer and a “Thank you” for those people who were on the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania, those people who may have averted another incident with even more deaths and destruction.
We can show our patriotism - wave a flag and recite the Pledge of Allegiance and sing the Star Spangled Banner, not just today when the memory is being celebrated, but tomorrow and the day after and the week and the month and the year after tomorrow.
We can teach a child to respect our country and its government and its flag.
We can say “our knees, my butt – this is America”, and do everything in our power to keep our country moving and growing and going strong, as we did after this tragedy and as people have throughout every day of its existence.
Please join us in a moment of silence in remembrance.”
I’ll go to the firehouse for an impromptu, short ceremony there, then later read a message, updated from when I first wrote it ten years ago for the truck company newsletter, before our matinee performance.
As everyone, I will have my moment to remember, what I was doing, what I thought and felt and did that day. I will make a moment for those lost, for those still being lost as a result of the attacks in 2001. I will take a moment to be thankful for our American life.
Here’s what I think: We should all do this, not just today, but every day.
My reading:
“Everyone in our country, and beyond, was affected by the tragic events in New York City, Washington DC and Pennsylvania ten years ago today.
I went to New York as a member of an Emergency Medical Services Task Force, went to the scene and saw the destruction that was left of the World Trade Center and saw the desolation on the faces of those going to dig in the rubble, some for their friends and co-workers, some just to help. I stood crying at the ‘wall of tears’, where the pictures and messages from people looking for their loved ones were beyond heartbreaking. I heard the thanks of countless people, strangers, in a city that before was known for its cold, self-centered personality – thanks just because we were there, had come to help and support them.
I can only say that if those who perpetrated and carried out this horrendous crime against humanity thought they were going to bring the United States of America and its people to their knees by these actions, well, they did.
They brought us to our knees to unite in prayer for the victims and their loved ones, and then to add a prayer for the strength and the wisdom and courage to do what must be done next. Then, we stood up with more patriotism and determination than ever and with the resolve that they would not win, that we would keep our life and our freedom and our country and our spirit.
And we did and we can continue to do so.
We can get down on our knees once again and say a prayer for the victims and their families and friends.
We can say “Thank you” and “God Bless You” and “God Be With You” when we see a fire truck or an ambulance or a police car go by, in memory of the brave men and women who ran towards, not away from, the carnage at the World Trade Center and who died doing their job.
We can say a prayer and a “Thank you” for those people who were on the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania, those people who may have averted another incident with even more deaths and destruction.
We can show our patriotism - wave a flag and recite the Pledge of Allegiance and sing the Star Spangled Banner, not just today when the memory is being celebrated, but tomorrow and the day after and the week and the month and the year after tomorrow.
We can teach a child to respect our country and its government and its flag.
We can say “our knees, my butt – this is America”, and do everything in our power to keep our country moving and growing and going strong, as we did after this tragedy and as people have throughout every day of its existence.
Please join us in a moment of silence in remembrance.”
Monday, August 29, 2011
Thank them a lot, thank them often
I’ve been listening to the scanner all day, which is not unusual since its never shut off, but today it was in case there were things happening with the hurricane that I should respond or stand by for. Fortunately for the squad, the hurricane didn’t amount to as much as predicted and we only had the usual sort and amount of calls, and extra help wasn’t needed.
The fire companies are a whole ‘nother story, though. The county called all departments out to stand by in quarters starting at 8 a.m. today. Many of them have been flat out since before that. Heavy rain brought flooded and washed out roads, and then flooded basements. Now the wind has picked up a bit (nowhere near the predicted but it’s a bit brisk) and trees are starting to fall. Fire departments responded for a family needing help getting out through the water surrounding their house and to evacuate residents of a mobile home park being flooded by the creek it is next to. Some went to fire alarms activated by the storm, or power blips. Some checked out a car stranded in water on a flooded road. Then a barn fire, which was burned to the ground by the time it was discovered and the first fire fighter got there.
They’ve been running between setting up warnings at the impassable roadways to pumping water from a basement before a furnace or other costly appliances are ruined or a fire started, to trees fallen on power lines or across roadways or both, to assisting rescue squads with emergency medical calls - and there’s no sign of them getting any break soon.
Hopefully there have been enough people so they can take a little rest between calls, and also hopefully the faithful, helpful auxiliaries have been making food for them.
It’s not just our county, either. I can hear some areas of Greene County and they’ve been just as busy if not busier. All day. As I am sure others throughout the storm track area have been.
And you know what’s the best part? They do this because they want to help their families, friends, neighbors, communities. That’s right, they don’t get any pay except for the grateful thanks of the people they help, and the waves when they march past in the firemen’s parade. No pay, no benefits, no retirement. They just want to help. And they do. We’d be in a sorry mess without them.
Here’s what I think: these men and women don’t get enough credit. Friends have posted a video on Facebook of an area firehouse with floodwater around it – where are the people who staff this building? Out helping their neighbors – I wrote the first part yesterday, and this morning they are heading out again, after a full day and night of helping, to check out an odor of smoke in one of their neighbors homes. Hoping that it is not a fire, for everyone’s sake. The firefighters we invited to see the dress rehearsal of Grease, after they responded to our cast house fire, kept thanking us for the invitation, and I kept saying no, we thank you for what you did-this is little enough we can do. We all need to give these people a great big THANK YOU for everything they do, and we need to do it more often
The fire companies are a whole ‘nother story, though. The county called all departments out to stand by in quarters starting at 8 a.m. today. Many of them have been flat out since before that. Heavy rain brought flooded and washed out roads, and then flooded basements. Now the wind has picked up a bit (nowhere near the predicted but it’s a bit brisk) and trees are starting to fall. Fire departments responded for a family needing help getting out through the water surrounding their house and to evacuate residents of a mobile home park being flooded by the creek it is next to. Some went to fire alarms activated by the storm, or power blips. Some checked out a car stranded in water on a flooded road. Then a barn fire, which was burned to the ground by the time it was discovered and the first fire fighter got there.
They’ve been running between setting up warnings at the impassable roadways to pumping water from a basement before a furnace or other costly appliances are ruined or a fire started, to trees fallen on power lines or across roadways or both, to assisting rescue squads with emergency medical calls - and there’s no sign of them getting any break soon.
Hopefully there have been enough people so they can take a little rest between calls, and also hopefully the faithful, helpful auxiliaries have been making food for them.
It’s not just our county, either. I can hear some areas of Greene County and they’ve been just as busy if not busier. All day. As I am sure others throughout the storm track area have been.
And you know what’s the best part? They do this because they want to help their families, friends, neighbors, communities. That’s right, they don’t get any pay except for the grateful thanks of the people they help, and the waves when they march past in the firemen’s parade. No pay, no benefits, no retirement. They just want to help. And they do. We’d be in a sorry mess without them.
Here’s what I think: these men and women don’t get enough credit. Friends have posted a video on Facebook of an area firehouse with floodwater around it – where are the people who staff this building? Out helping their neighbors – I wrote the first part yesterday, and this morning they are heading out again, after a full day and night of helping, to check out an odor of smoke in one of their neighbors homes. Hoping that it is not a fire, for everyone’s sake. The firefighters we invited to see the dress rehearsal of Grease, after they responded to our cast house fire, kept thanking us for the invitation, and I kept saying no, we thank you for what you did-this is little enough we can do. We all need to give these people a great big THANK YOU for everything they do, and we need to do it more often
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Visiting one of my past lives
I took a step back into one of my past lives a few days ago. After not going there for several years, I went to Springfield, to the truck company I worked for, and visited the few people still working there that I know, and then met some of them for dinner. The occasion was instigated by one woman I was good friends with, she recently left the company (which isn’t even named what it was when I was there) to drive for another outfit, was home for a week and wanted to visit everyone. Just worked out right I had a day off when it happened. I haven’t seen her sine I left, over 9 years ago. Talked on email, on facebook, on the phone a couple of times, but haven’t seen each other, so it was really nice. Lot of catching up, general chit chat and laughing. Some ’have you heard about’ – both good and sad news.
Made me miss both the place and the driving. They all say it’s not the same as it was when I was there, and I can see that – Our little company has been absorbed by one of the owner’s other companies, and that’s not a change for the better from what they all were saying.
It was a good place to work, I thought. Small, everyone like family, always friendly and ready to talk, just to visit or to try to work out a problem. One reason I left is that the trying to work out problems part was not happening as much. There are other reasons as well, but that was one.
But for the 17 winters I was there, I was part of that family. I started as a rookie, with a few months of regional driving miles behind me, but with a whole lot to learn. There weren’t trainers as such and I mostly had to pick up things as I went, but I didn’t get into too much trouble. I remember being so pleased when the first partner they put me with said to the office, after my first shift driving ‘she does good – I slept for 8 hours’.
I went from that to being the ‘special projects’ trainer over the years there; it seemed every time they had a new driver that needed special attention, they gave them to me to train. Some worked out, some didn’t. Some I was proud to have a hand in, some wouldn’t have worked out no matter who tried. Oh well.
I got an award from the company at an annual driver’s dinner; I had done a collection for a special thing for Feed The Children, combining it with the theatre I think it was the 30th anniversary season, and collected things to donate to that group. That winter I won the Humanitarian Award. I had just made it in on the afternoon of the dinner, and didn’t have what I’d normally have worn to such an event with me, but put on a nice shirt and clean jeans and went – and was totally surprised to win something. A plaque and $250. Plus they let me take the things to FTC in Oklahoma City.
Same as they let me drop off the Evita coffin in Chicago on one run.
I felt part of the company. Even when I’d go visit in the summer, they’d stop to chat. And ask ‘you back?’ For a while I’d get The Bakery’s pumpkin donuts and take a couple of bags over when I went for my first trip, and so when I was ready to start in the fall I’d call and say ‘it’s pumpkin donut time!’ I called one time and was leaving a message for dispatch, and when the girl (someone new who didn’t know what it meant) repeated ‘tell him it’s pumpkin donut time?’ I could hear Kevin in the background yelling ‘She’s Back!’.
So many memories, mostly good, a few bad - I think I left before the bad got to be more than the good. But mainly what I remember is being part of it – of the company, of the people, of just driving in general, with the other drivers I was ‘one of them’. That’s a good memory.
Here’s what I think: yes, most of the time I’m fine to have left that behind me, but every now and then I sure do miss it. I was part of it, I belonged, I could do it. And I know I’m happy that they remember me and make me feel welcome, even after being away almost 10 years. And I think maybe I’ll try to put more stories about that life on here. Maybe, if I get to it.
Made me miss both the place and the driving. They all say it’s not the same as it was when I was there, and I can see that – Our little company has been absorbed by one of the owner’s other companies, and that’s not a change for the better from what they all were saying.
It was a good place to work, I thought. Small, everyone like family, always friendly and ready to talk, just to visit or to try to work out a problem. One reason I left is that the trying to work out problems part was not happening as much. There are other reasons as well, but that was one.
But for the 17 winters I was there, I was part of that family. I started as a rookie, with a few months of regional driving miles behind me, but with a whole lot to learn. There weren’t trainers as such and I mostly had to pick up things as I went, but I didn’t get into too much trouble. I remember being so pleased when the first partner they put me with said to the office, after my first shift driving ‘she does good – I slept for 8 hours’.
I went from that to being the ‘special projects’ trainer over the years there; it seemed every time they had a new driver that needed special attention, they gave them to me to train. Some worked out, some didn’t. Some I was proud to have a hand in, some wouldn’t have worked out no matter who tried. Oh well.
I got an award from the company at an annual driver’s dinner; I had done a collection for a special thing for Feed The Children, combining it with the theatre I think it was the 30th anniversary season, and collected things to donate to that group. That winter I won the Humanitarian Award. I had just made it in on the afternoon of the dinner, and didn’t have what I’d normally have worn to such an event with me, but put on a nice shirt and clean jeans and went – and was totally surprised to win something. A plaque and $250. Plus they let me take the things to FTC in Oklahoma City.
Same as they let me drop off the Evita coffin in Chicago on one run.
I felt part of the company. Even when I’d go visit in the summer, they’d stop to chat. And ask ‘you back?’ For a while I’d get The Bakery’s pumpkin donuts and take a couple of bags over when I went for my first trip, and so when I was ready to start in the fall I’d call and say ‘it’s pumpkin donut time!’ I called one time and was leaving a message for dispatch, and when the girl (someone new who didn’t know what it meant) repeated ‘tell him it’s pumpkin donut time?’ I could hear Kevin in the background yelling ‘She’s Back!’.
So many memories, mostly good, a few bad - I think I left before the bad got to be more than the good. But mainly what I remember is being part of it – of the company, of the people, of just driving in general, with the other drivers I was ‘one of them’. That’s a good memory.
Here’s what I think: yes, most of the time I’m fine to have left that behind me, but every now and then I sure do miss it. I was part of it, I belonged, I could do it. And I know I’m happy that they remember me and make me feel welcome, even after being away almost 10 years. And I think maybe I’ll try to put more stories about that life on here. Maybe, if I get to it.
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