After graduation worked a few temporary jobs while deciding what route to take with my degree. A friend at church decided to move back to Houston and suggested I move there too. With no obligations and knowing my grandparents and Odies (my brother’s roommate for many years whom I considered a second brother) and Kathie (his wife who later was my matron of honor) lived there, I took the plunge and moved to Texas. Was excited about the change and stayed with my grandparents for a short time until I found a job and an apartment. Moved to the other end of town which would be closer to church and landed a job as a court clerk trainee in Criminal District Court.
When we talked on the phone, Joy seemed glad I was in town but always had an excuse for never getting together. I finally came to church and Odies and Kathie were pleased to see me after having talked on the phone a few times since my arrival. Joy appeared to be pleased to see me and we went to lunch and over to her friend’s house to hang out with some of the other singles. Being reserved I felt somewhat apprehensive with the new surroundings and people but tried my best to fit in. We weren’t there long and Joy had to go, leaving me with a room full of total strangers. Something seemed off but didn’t try to make anything of it. That night Joy saw me in the foyer before service but somewhat brushed me off. Great, another one bites the dust. Didn’t understand. Very confusing and should have called her on it. It would be a lie to say that it didn’t hurt.
While staying at my grandparents earlier, my relationship with my granddad became severed so even with Odies and Kathie around felt pretty much alone but was determined to make the most of the situation and concentrate on work. There was speculation that Joy really liked my brother when in New Mexico and Mom or Don wondered if she was using me to get closer to him. Whether that’s true, I have no idea but it sounded plausible and the only thing that made sense.
Tried to function and do recollect pushing myself, running hard, having mental lapses at work, and collapsing in bed every night from pure exhaustion. After four months, wanted to move back to Albuquerque. Although I had a car, my parents knew something was wrong and flew out to take me home. What can I say? Apparently I wasn’t eating much and they were horrified to see standing in front of them their 24-year-old, 5’6-½” tall, emaciated daughter who weighed 95 pounds. Every setback plummets you further down into a gutter of despair and failure and knew my parents were disappointed in me once again, and I was disappointed in myself.
(to be continued)
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
HIDDEN TRUTHS REVEALED - Part 5
The focus shifted back to food and exercise and continued to go through the motions. Continued the tennis lessons and got a job as a waitress at Dennys, a job I had always thought would be fun. Most would find it odd for a person with eating issues wanting to work around food. At least I could observe other people salivating over great looking food and not have to worry about the calories. Lasted three days because our pulpit minister called and offered me a job as the church secretary to the youth and personal evangelist ministers (my second and final job that fell into my lap). Continued working for six months until an old friend talked me into attending Oklahoma Christian College. Had my reservations but decided it would be good to get away.
Since there were no Criminal Justice or Police Science degrees so chose Mass Communications as my major in hopes of becoming a sports broadcaster. There were two tennis courts located between the men’s and women’s dorms. Outside of class or study time, that’s where you would find me. Played in an intramural tournament and was runner up. Became the top ranked player on the women’s tennis team (only two women on the team but a major feat for me). Fell in love. Ate in the school cafeteria with surprisingly very little hang-ups and so much ease that I was constantly teased about the full content of my tray, always to include a dessert with soft-serve ice cream. Still ran every day and Mom said that was the best I had ever looked--an ideal weight of 120. Part of our Phys Ed grade consisted of running a mile every day and documenting each time. My goal was to run it in under six minutes. Did accomplish that goal and the reward--a Brahm’s quarter pounder, onion rings, and a German chocolate shake.
Although broke up with Mark, still had tennis to get me through the rest of the school year without too many ill effects, but I had no desire to return the next year. Teresa said not to let Mark ruin things and talked me into returning and we would live in an apartment across from campus and would not be eating in the cafeteria. It was not one of my better decisions. Seeing Mark bothered me and with the other issues in school started to focus on my apparent “comfort zone”--food and exercise. Daily meals became instant oatmeal, granola bars, V-8, soup, apple, and peanut butter on celery and the weight started to drop, along with feeling cold and very depressed. No, there would be no glee or joy this semester.
Left after the Christmas break and transferred to the University of Albuquerque and changed majors to Criminology. Life revolved around studying and not much else. Continued the summer tennis lessons and met Cindy. We became tennis partners and played in a doubles match during one city tournament. Cindy knew I wasn’t much of a partygoer and thought I needed to loosen up so she took me to a bar--my first time at age 21. My parents didn’t drink and I always had steered clear of any temptation, which wasn’t hard since I never socialized much outside a church setting (and if you were a church member who drank, it was not advertised). Took a taste of an Amaretto Sour and it was--sour. Did nothing for my taste buds. Took a sip of a Pina Colada. Tasted like a pineapple soda (pineapple juice over vanilla ice cream for those of you unaware) so why drink it and destroy my brain cells. No, Debbie would stick with an orange juice on the rocks. Took a trip with her to LA and stayed at Pepperdine where my brother worked. She tried to change my appearance with makeup and a different hairstyle. My brother knew that Cindy and I were on different planes and was skeptical of a lasting friendship. He was right.
No fun. No enjoyment. Just going through the motions. Sadness. Crying spells. Not wanting to wake up in the morning and start the cycle all over again. The severity of these emotions fluctuated year to year, but I still pretended to be fine and exercised harder and planned the meals day to day and month to month with more rigidity. My parents knew there was a need for professional assistance and offered to pay, but their generosity was declined. Knew eventually I would get better on my own once this happened or that was completed.
Started working and going to school at night but wanted to finish sooner so quit work and became a full-time student including an overload during the summer. At least it kept my mind occupied. Finished in 1-½ years and graduated with honors but still felt the emptiness inside. After so long it gets to the point that you want to either crawl into a hole, go into a coma and wake up with amnesia, or just plain die.
(to be continued)
Since there were no Criminal Justice or Police Science degrees so chose Mass Communications as my major in hopes of becoming a sports broadcaster. There were two tennis courts located between the men’s and women’s dorms. Outside of class or study time, that’s where you would find me. Played in an intramural tournament and was runner up. Became the top ranked player on the women’s tennis team (only two women on the team but a major feat for me). Fell in love. Ate in the school cafeteria with surprisingly very little hang-ups and so much ease that I was constantly teased about the full content of my tray, always to include a dessert with soft-serve ice cream. Still ran every day and Mom said that was the best I had ever looked--an ideal weight of 120. Part of our Phys Ed grade consisted of running a mile every day and documenting each time. My goal was to run it in under six minutes. Did accomplish that goal and the reward--a Brahm’s quarter pounder, onion rings, and a German chocolate shake.
Although broke up with Mark, still had tennis to get me through the rest of the school year without too many ill effects, but I had no desire to return the next year. Teresa said not to let Mark ruin things and talked me into returning and we would live in an apartment across from campus and would not be eating in the cafeteria. It was not one of my better decisions. Seeing Mark bothered me and with the other issues in school started to focus on my apparent “comfort zone”--food and exercise. Daily meals became instant oatmeal, granola bars, V-8, soup, apple, and peanut butter on celery and the weight started to drop, along with feeling cold and very depressed. No, there would be no glee or joy this semester.
Left after the Christmas break and transferred to the University of Albuquerque and changed majors to Criminology. Life revolved around studying and not much else. Continued the summer tennis lessons and met Cindy. We became tennis partners and played in a doubles match during one city tournament. Cindy knew I wasn’t much of a partygoer and thought I needed to loosen up so she took me to a bar--my first time at age 21. My parents didn’t drink and I always had steered clear of any temptation, which wasn’t hard since I never socialized much outside a church setting (and if you were a church member who drank, it was not advertised). Took a taste of an Amaretto Sour and it was--sour. Did nothing for my taste buds. Took a sip of a Pina Colada. Tasted like a pineapple soda (pineapple juice over vanilla ice cream for those of you unaware) so why drink it and destroy my brain cells. No, Debbie would stick with an orange juice on the rocks. Took a trip with her to LA and stayed at Pepperdine where my brother worked. She tried to change my appearance with makeup and a different hairstyle. My brother knew that Cindy and I were on different planes and was skeptical of a lasting friendship. He was right.
No fun. No enjoyment. Just going through the motions. Sadness. Crying spells. Not wanting to wake up in the morning and start the cycle all over again. The severity of these emotions fluctuated year to year, but I still pretended to be fine and exercised harder and planned the meals day to day and month to month with more rigidity. My parents knew there was a need for professional assistance and offered to pay, but their generosity was declined. Knew eventually I would get better on my own once this happened or that was completed.
Started working and going to school at night but wanted to finish sooner so quit work and became a full-time student including an overload during the summer. At least it kept my mind occupied. Finished in 1-½ years and graduated with honors but still felt the emptiness inside. After so long it gets to the point that you want to either crawl into a hole, go into a coma and wake up with amnesia, or just plain die.
(to be continued)
Monday, May 28, 2007
HIDDEN TRUTHS REVEALED - PART IV
Judge Sanchez was very intimidating. The man was tough and strict and not a favorite of many of the attorneys. Each month all the judges would rotate types of cases--domestic relations, and criminal and civil jury trials. The jury months, especially the criminal cases were the best times. (Know the judge tried at least one major case because a senior moment is only letting me remember the TV cameras present.) Confidentiality was imperative which at times was difficult especially when you see court files of couples you know who go to church and have filed for divorce, or a school acquaintance who is being charged with a crime.
Besides a secretary, I also was the jury clerk so had the opportunity to be in the courtroom numerous times. Civil was okay but there were some real snoozers. Tony nodded off in his chair many times, but what a pleasant guy to be around, except when he smoked those nasty cigars. There were no smoke-free environments so when Tony went into the courtroom, he would leave his lit cigar in the ashtray adjacent to my desk. I constantly moved it out of smell range and not always in the spot. The smell of cigarette smoke gives me terrible headaches but cigar smoke leaves me quite nauseous. Lest you forget, Tony’s eyesight was not to keen, so it did make for an amusing source of entertainment to watch Tony find it. John smoked a pipe and although not quite as bad as cigarettes or cigars, I still didn’t care for the smell, but when Tony would switch to a pipe, he used cherry tobacco. Must admit it smelled pretty good.
Might have already blogged about this, but I’ll always attribute my work ethic to Judge Sanchez. Always like to be busy and never did like to twiddle my thumbs so one day saved what the judge gave me that morning for the afternoon. Later that morning Judge Sanchez asked for the letter and, of course, it was not done. He ripped into me and since that time, I’ve always completed everything post haste. I’ll confess, the judge had me in tears quite a bit the first year but oh what a great job!
After my heel surgeries, felt so blessed and was so thankful to be walking and not a cripple that I took up running. Started out gradually at first and then consistently ran daily at least two miles, interspersed with three to four miles and at times pushed myself to five. Also decided to pick up the sport my family had begged me to play several years earlier. Became a tennis fanatic and took city lessons every summer with my brother being one of my instructors. Lessons were on weekdays in the early evening or Saturday mornings. Soon you could habitually find me on the court practicing serves for an hour in the early mornings. Watched every match on TV, and read Tennis and World Tennis magazines. Wanted to be the best I could possibly be (a perfectionist’s frame of mind).
Thoughts of food were constant. Every morsel thoroughly contemplated. Comparing sizes of apples, potatoes, or slices of bread to see which one was smaller or larger depending on what was eaten earlier in the day. It would go in cycles, once you eat something for either breakfast, lunch, or dinner, it had to become a daily ritual and would continue for quite some time until some change was made and a different cycle would begin. All meals were planned with utmost thought with dinner being the largest and the most well balanced. Any deviation from the menu plan whether it be an invite to go out, a party, or something else either being brought to work or home would produce tremendous anxiety. Each meal was planned and dependent on the other. Calories counted. And in order to eat, exercise had to be done. Constantly obsessed about the looks of my body, especially the stomach area and at each opportunity when passing a mirror, would lift the shirt and check on its shape. In my eyes, not flat enough, hence, was still too big but a warped perception to all others.
Losing the weight with the daily exercise grind gradually lead to the disruption of my female plumbing. Went to a doctor, tried some pills and had a catscan but no answers and nothing to be done except wait until the time came to bear a child. Functioned in the real world and nothing seemed out of the ordinary at least in terms of how others perceived me. Didn’t do much socializing in church or outside church but still kept up with tennis. Had a few friends but would seem to always sabotage at least one of those relationships for one reason or another. Had a few crushes on some of my brother’s friends at church but never thought any of them would be interested. There just was no joy in much of anything, but could lose myself in tennis and TV. The running did produce a euphoric feeling but didn’t last long enough.
After 2-½ years, quit working for the judge in order to attend a community college in Tyler, TX. In one of the tennis magazines read about a school tennis program that offered students an opportunity to manage a tennis club. The tennis coach was a member of the Church of Christ, the one our local minister had attended years earlier. The program also included practicing with the school’s tennis team and attending a few courses off campus. Although I didn’t have an automobile, the coach offered to get me there and back. Shared a dorm room with Donna and got acquainted with her two other friends and everything seemed fine. Of course, appearances are deceiving. Practiced with the team a few times and felt so inferior and not good enough not only to play but not good enough for the program as well. Felt guilty Coach Fred had to take me to class--just don’t like inconveniencing people because of my situations. Also, I was just plain homesick and decided I was not meant to be a manager in a tennis facility. Called my parents and with my brother they advised me to stay and switch majors to Police Science, something I had talked about and had wanted to become a cop since watching Mod Squad. Their pleas fell on deaf ears and Mom and Dad came and took me back home. What a huge disappointment I must be and felt like a total failure. (And I couldn’t go back to work for Judge Sanchez.)
(to be continued)
Besides a secretary, I also was the jury clerk so had the opportunity to be in the courtroom numerous times. Civil was okay but there were some real snoozers. Tony nodded off in his chair many times, but what a pleasant guy to be around, except when he smoked those nasty cigars. There were no smoke-free environments so when Tony went into the courtroom, he would leave his lit cigar in the ashtray adjacent to my desk. I constantly moved it out of smell range and not always in the spot. The smell of cigarette smoke gives me terrible headaches but cigar smoke leaves me quite nauseous. Lest you forget, Tony’s eyesight was not to keen, so it did make for an amusing source of entertainment to watch Tony find it. John smoked a pipe and although not quite as bad as cigarettes or cigars, I still didn’t care for the smell, but when Tony would switch to a pipe, he used cherry tobacco. Must admit it smelled pretty good.
Might have already blogged about this, but I’ll always attribute my work ethic to Judge Sanchez. Always like to be busy and never did like to twiddle my thumbs so one day saved what the judge gave me that morning for the afternoon. Later that morning Judge Sanchez asked for the letter and, of course, it was not done. He ripped into me and since that time, I’ve always completed everything post haste. I’ll confess, the judge had me in tears quite a bit the first year but oh what a great job!
After my heel surgeries, felt so blessed and was so thankful to be walking and not a cripple that I took up running. Started out gradually at first and then consistently ran daily at least two miles, interspersed with three to four miles and at times pushed myself to five. Also decided to pick up the sport my family had begged me to play several years earlier. Became a tennis fanatic and took city lessons every summer with my brother being one of my instructors. Lessons were on weekdays in the early evening or Saturday mornings. Soon you could habitually find me on the court practicing serves for an hour in the early mornings. Watched every match on TV, and read Tennis and World Tennis magazines. Wanted to be the best I could possibly be (a perfectionist’s frame of mind).
Thoughts of food were constant. Every morsel thoroughly contemplated. Comparing sizes of apples, potatoes, or slices of bread to see which one was smaller or larger depending on what was eaten earlier in the day. It would go in cycles, once you eat something for either breakfast, lunch, or dinner, it had to become a daily ritual and would continue for quite some time until some change was made and a different cycle would begin. All meals were planned with utmost thought with dinner being the largest and the most well balanced. Any deviation from the menu plan whether it be an invite to go out, a party, or something else either being brought to work or home would produce tremendous anxiety. Each meal was planned and dependent on the other. Calories counted. And in order to eat, exercise had to be done. Constantly obsessed about the looks of my body, especially the stomach area and at each opportunity when passing a mirror, would lift the shirt and check on its shape. In my eyes, not flat enough, hence, was still too big but a warped perception to all others.
Losing the weight with the daily exercise grind gradually lead to the disruption of my female plumbing. Went to a doctor, tried some pills and had a catscan but no answers and nothing to be done except wait until the time came to bear a child. Functioned in the real world and nothing seemed out of the ordinary at least in terms of how others perceived me. Didn’t do much socializing in church or outside church but still kept up with tennis. Had a few friends but would seem to always sabotage at least one of those relationships for one reason or another. Had a few crushes on some of my brother’s friends at church but never thought any of them would be interested. There just was no joy in much of anything, but could lose myself in tennis and TV. The running did produce a euphoric feeling but didn’t last long enough.
After 2-½ years, quit working for the judge in order to attend a community college in Tyler, TX. In one of the tennis magazines read about a school tennis program that offered students an opportunity to manage a tennis club. The tennis coach was a member of the Church of Christ, the one our local minister had attended years earlier. The program also included practicing with the school’s tennis team and attending a few courses off campus. Although I didn’t have an automobile, the coach offered to get me there and back. Shared a dorm room with Donna and got acquainted with her two other friends and everything seemed fine. Of course, appearances are deceiving. Practiced with the team a few times and felt so inferior and not good enough not only to play but not good enough for the program as well. Felt guilty Coach Fred had to take me to class--just don’t like inconveniencing people because of my situations. Also, I was just plain homesick and decided I was not meant to be a manager in a tennis facility. Called my parents and with my brother they advised me to stay and switch majors to Police Science, something I had talked about and had wanted to become a cop since watching Mod Squad. Their pleas fell on deaf ears and Mom and Dad came and took me back home. What a huge disappointment I must be and felt like a total failure. (And I couldn’t go back to work for Judge Sanchez.)
(to be continued)
Sunday, May 27, 2007
HIDDEN TRUTHS REVEALED - PART 3
At that moment I was determined to make a change. So on January 1, 1971, decided to lose weight--or in other words, the start of my downward spiral into hell. (Mom had gone back to work after a 15-year hiatus and was not aware of the mistakes her daughter was to make.) Daily fare consisted of ½ grapefruit for breakfast, ½ cheese sandwich or a small box of raisins for lunch, and a well-balanced dinner with the first two weeks having no dessert (a major accomplishment for a sugar addict). Didn’t really exercise except some calisthenics, whatever was done in PE class, and walking to and from school. Stopped hanging with friends during lunch breaks and gradually stopped socializing (didn’t want to be around anything involving food). Lost at least 25 pounds within a relatively short period of time (not surprising since I ate very little). Although proud of my accomplishment, I became a recluse and unsociable; pretty much a loner who studied hard. Television was still the main focus of entertainment up through high school graduation.
Hated school and during my junior year had enough credits to graduate. Had no plans to attend college and wanted to become a legal secretary. Took Advanced Typing, Shorthand, Bookkeeping, Creative Writing, and Business Law and finally achieved the one goal that had alluded me throughout high school--making straight As.
During that year had difficulty with my heels and put padding in the back of each shoe. A few months before graduation saw an orthopedic surgeon who diagnosed my problem as “pump bumps” (bone spurs) and operated on the right heel two months before graduation. Although off the crutches by graduation, it was painful limping down the stairway of the university sports complex to get my diploma and should have stayed down on ground level with another disabled graduate. A week later had an operation on the left heel.
While in bed recuperating, received a phone call from John, a long-time church friend who happened to be a court reporter. He was going to be working in District Court for Judge Sanchez who was appointed by Governor King, and the judge needed a secretary. After I had recovered and was off the crutches, had an interview and the job was mine (wish jobs would fall into my lap now). So there I was on my first day, a 16-year-old high school graduate working for a 61-year-old judge. The rest of our group consisted of Tony, the bailiff, a sweet man around 60 who had very poor vision, and, of course, John (my mom’s age) and the reason I had the one job that is still my favorite to this day.
(to be continued)
Hated school and during my junior year had enough credits to graduate. Had no plans to attend college and wanted to become a legal secretary. Took Advanced Typing, Shorthand, Bookkeeping, Creative Writing, and Business Law and finally achieved the one goal that had alluded me throughout high school--making straight As.
During that year had difficulty with my heels and put padding in the back of each shoe. A few months before graduation saw an orthopedic surgeon who diagnosed my problem as “pump bumps” (bone spurs) and operated on the right heel two months before graduation. Although off the crutches by graduation, it was painful limping down the stairway of the university sports complex to get my diploma and should have stayed down on ground level with another disabled graduate. A week later had an operation on the left heel.
While in bed recuperating, received a phone call from John, a long-time church friend who happened to be a court reporter. He was going to be working in District Court for Judge Sanchez who was appointed by Governor King, and the judge needed a secretary. After I had recovered and was off the crutches, had an interview and the job was mine (wish jobs would fall into my lap now). So there I was on my first day, a 16-year-old high school graduate working for a 61-year-old judge. The rest of our group consisted of Tony, the bailiff, a sweet man around 60 who had very poor vision, and, of course, John (my mom’s age) and the reason I had the one job that is still my favorite to this day.
(to be continued)
Saturday, May 26, 2007
HIDDEN TRUTHS REVEALED - PART 2
During that time there were no computers, Gameboys, video games; just television, at least in our household. Did not participate in any school sport or extracurricular activity. Just played with neighbors, school and church friends or sat on my butt and watched television. I did do my fair share of reading--mystery novels mainly, but the boob tube was my favorite source of entertainment. And it would be fair to say it was our main nightly family activity at least with Dad. Mom would sit there but was usually preoccupied with a book or completing an unfinished chore from earlier in the day.
We were a typical middle-class family who had clothes on our back, enough food on the table and never really in desperate need of anything but as a kid you’re always in want. Don’t consider myself or my brother ever spoiled or catered to. I tried to manipulate the system to get what I wanted but did not always succeed. Manipulation meaning running around the house screaming especially in the summertime when the windows were opened (a necessity when having a swamp cooler). Mom didn’t want the neighbors thinking she was abusing her child.
Also during that time food was food. There was no concern regarding fats, transfats, too much sugar, too much caffeine, limited number of eggs per week, butter versus margarine, or whole milk versus skim. I ate exactly as I pleased. Received a weekly allowance for doing chores and every jaunt to the store resulted in purchases of candy especially cinnamon balls or Jolly Roger sticks or something else to appease my sweet tooth. In the summertime the hand was literally in the cookie jar first thing in the morning. Didn’t matter what kind as long as it was sweet. In New Mexico you could receive a home delivery of Charlie’s Chips that came in a golden tin can and were considered the best chips you could possibly eat. My favorite thing to do was sit with the can of chips and dip each chip in a jar of peanut butter. Every Christmas--screw the gifts and let me at my stocking where hopefully was a Lifesaver book and box of chocolate covered cherries.
The family took up the game of tennis and tried to get me to play. No, thanks, I was too busy watching Gilligan’s Island or I Love Lucy. The more my parents and brother tried to get me to cut down, the more Debbie kept at it. Hey, things were going fine and still had friends but deep down knew it bothered me especially during PE class in middle school. We had to wear these awful short, blue one-piece gym suits with a sewed on belt around the waist and elastic around the legs which really accentuated my thunder thighs. Became friends with Mary who was heavier than me. Don’t recall ever having discussions about our weight but felt comfortable being together. The worst part of class was the gymnastic portion and getting on the balance beam. Shook like a leaf--not a pretty sight and did wonder what others were thinking or if they were laughing behind our backs.
Went to a brand new high school which was the first in the city to start with the 9th grade. Soon became acclimated to the surroundings. Had been within walking distance during elementary school and was bused to junior high but now we had to make the long 1-½ mile trek each way. At least got some exercise but not enough for what food was still inhaled. One side of the cafeteria served the traditional fare as in most school cafeterias, but the other side had a new concept--vending-type selections. Debbie’s daily lunch of choice: chicken fried steak sandwich, bag of Fritos, container of orange drink, and a Nestle’s Crunch. Nourishing, ain‘t it?
Had considered making a change but kept procrastinating. Christmas came again and got the presents and the goodies in the stocking. Ate them with the usual flair. Dad always took home movies and still shots during major holidays or celebrations. My brother had just had major hip surgery and one particular picture caught my eye. Around the tree stood my brother with crutches, and me sitting on the couch, an out-of-shape 12 year old who weighed 135 pounds. The picture still haunts me to this day.
(to be continued)
We were a typical middle-class family who had clothes on our back, enough food on the table and never really in desperate need of anything but as a kid you’re always in want. Don’t consider myself or my brother ever spoiled or catered to. I tried to manipulate the system to get what I wanted but did not always succeed. Manipulation meaning running around the house screaming especially in the summertime when the windows were opened (a necessity when having a swamp cooler). Mom didn’t want the neighbors thinking she was abusing her child.
Also during that time food was food. There was no concern regarding fats, transfats, too much sugar, too much caffeine, limited number of eggs per week, butter versus margarine, or whole milk versus skim. I ate exactly as I pleased. Received a weekly allowance for doing chores and every jaunt to the store resulted in purchases of candy especially cinnamon balls or Jolly Roger sticks or something else to appease my sweet tooth. In the summertime the hand was literally in the cookie jar first thing in the morning. Didn’t matter what kind as long as it was sweet. In New Mexico you could receive a home delivery of Charlie’s Chips that came in a golden tin can and were considered the best chips you could possibly eat. My favorite thing to do was sit with the can of chips and dip each chip in a jar of peanut butter. Every Christmas--screw the gifts and let me at my stocking where hopefully was a Lifesaver book and box of chocolate covered cherries.
The family took up the game of tennis and tried to get me to play. No, thanks, I was too busy watching Gilligan’s Island or I Love Lucy. The more my parents and brother tried to get me to cut down, the more Debbie kept at it. Hey, things were going fine and still had friends but deep down knew it bothered me especially during PE class in middle school. We had to wear these awful short, blue one-piece gym suits with a sewed on belt around the waist and elastic around the legs which really accentuated my thunder thighs. Became friends with Mary who was heavier than me. Don’t recall ever having discussions about our weight but felt comfortable being together. The worst part of class was the gymnastic portion and getting on the balance beam. Shook like a leaf--not a pretty sight and did wonder what others were thinking or if they were laughing behind our backs.
Went to a brand new high school which was the first in the city to start with the 9th grade. Soon became acclimated to the surroundings. Had been within walking distance during elementary school and was bused to junior high but now we had to make the long 1-½ mile trek each way. At least got some exercise but not enough for what food was still inhaled. One side of the cafeteria served the traditional fare as in most school cafeterias, but the other side had a new concept--vending-type selections. Debbie’s daily lunch of choice: chicken fried steak sandwich, bag of Fritos, container of orange drink, and a Nestle’s Crunch. Nourishing, ain‘t it?
Had considered making a change but kept procrastinating. Christmas came again and got the presents and the goodies in the stocking. Ate them with the usual flair. Dad always took home movies and still shots during major holidays or celebrations. My brother had just had major hip surgery and one particular picture caught my eye. Around the tree stood my brother with crutches, and me sitting on the couch, an out-of-shape 12 year old who weighed 135 pounds. The picture still haunts me to this day.
(to be continued)
Thursday, May 24, 2007
HIDDEN TRUTHS REVEALED - PART 1
Doubt many of us remember when we were little kids and either ask our parents or watch home movies of those moments they are always so eager to capture on film. Mom said I was an active tyke who liked to tease and was not afraid of anything. Ran all over the place but for the first 17 months more so on my hands and knees than on my feet because it seemed to be the fastest way to maneuver around the house.
At a very young age I was a gad about, the happy-go-lucky child who had no problems with eating; the total opposite from my brother who was reserved and quiet with a finicky peanut butter appetite. Of course, now those roles have been reversed--I’m the more reserved and my brother is the one with the quirky mannerisms, a kook, or for lack of a better word, a total nut. But who is a great teacher, is fun to be around, and is quite entertaining. (Reminds me of two bearded gents I know.)
As a youngster I was quite the tomboy. Oh, I played with my Barbie dolls, but I also was out there with the neighborhood kids riding bikes, shooting hoops, playing hide and seek, and in the dirt creating a baseball field on the mesa behind our house. I was considered the homerun king on our little neighborhood baseball team--the Golden Hurricanes--wearing our little green shirts with a golden hurricane proudly displayed on our chests that were so meticulously drawn by my brother.
Yes, those were the days--a child not bogged down with psychological hang-ups but only troubled with the usual day to day problems such as fights with an older brother, scraped knees, or having to ingest creamed asparagus on toast while tightly clamping the nasal passages with the right hand.
So, what went wrong?
(to be continued)
At a very young age I was a gad about, the happy-go-lucky child who had no problems with eating; the total opposite from my brother who was reserved and quiet with a finicky peanut butter appetite. Of course, now those roles have been reversed--I’m the more reserved and my brother is the one with the quirky mannerisms, a kook, or for lack of a better word, a total nut. But who is a great teacher, is fun to be around, and is quite entertaining. (Reminds me of two bearded gents I know.)
As a youngster I was quite the tomboy. Oh, I played with my Barbie dolls, but I also was out there with the neighborhood kids riding bikes, shooting hoops, playing hide and seek, and in the dirt creating a baseball field on the mesa behind our house. I was considered the homerun king on our little neighborhood baseball team--the Golden Hurricanes--wearing our little green shirts with a golden hurricane proudly displayed on our chests that were so meticulously drawn by my brother.
Yes, those were the days--a child not bogged down with psychological hang-ups but only troubled with the usual day to day problems such as fights with an older brother, scraped knees, or having to ingest creamed asparagus on toast while tightly clamping the nasal passages with the right hand.
So, what went wrong?
(to be continued)
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
HIDDEN TRUTHS REVEALED - THE SERIES
I’ve delayed this long enough. Figured out other blogs to write about in order to postpone the inevitable. You’d think there wouldn’t be any more baggage left to share, but those of you who have chosen to read these postings over the last six months know I have no qualms about sharing my life and revealing innermost parts that most would just as soon sweep under the rug. Not quite sure where this will head, how many parts will be written, or when it will end. And doubt I’ll start posting daily unless the words start flowing. All I know, it will be hard to write about--how can you explain what you fully don’t understand; and difficult to share. But as I’ve said before, if I didn’t share, it would defeat the purpose for starting this weblog in the first place. Blogging has become a therapeutic release to help knock down some walls and try to stop putting on a façade--afraid if people knew the “real me,” nobody would like me (of course, so far from your comments, I now know that’s not true.)
My immediate family and a few old friends are somewhat aware of the issues that will be addressed, but no one knows the full extent of the turmoil and torment which has plagued me for 37 years (since the 9th grade), with the possible exception of Carl. Will start from the very beginning and talk it through. You might say it will be my own therapy session and the issues are interrelated. Tried the counseling route (will be talked about in greater detail later on), but I’m one who thinks I must solve everything myself. And it has been said that shrinks are more screwed up than their patients (hey, that sounds like the career for me). Even if nobody read these next several postings, it undoubtedly will produce beneficial results. Meaning--the weight of my baggage will become lighter. Who knows, this could possibly turn into my autobiography and could change the title to, “Don’t Let This Happen to You.”
My immediate family and a few old friends are somewhat aware of the issues that will be addressed, but no one knows the full extent of the turmoil and torment which has plagued me for 37 years (since the 9th grade), with the possible exception of Carl. Will start from the very beginning and talk it through. You might say it will be my own therapy session and the issues are interrelated. Tried the counseling route (will be talked about in greater detail later on), but I’m one who thinks I must solve everything myself. And it has been said that shrinks are more screwed up than their patients (hey, that sounds like the career for me). Even if nobody read these next several postings, it undoubtedly will produce beneficial results. Meaning--the weight of my baggage will become lighter. Who knows, this could possibly turn into my autobiography and could change the title to, “Don’t Let This Happen to You.”
Sunday, May 20, 2007
MEEKNESS
A few weeks ago Greg started a great series on the beatitudes. Don’t know about you, but I’ve heard countless sermons on Matthew 5:3-11 and studied the same in various Bible classes, but never quite understood its meaning until now. I’ve told Greg before, have written about it before, and will continue to sing his praises, but Greg presents things in a way that makes it easier to comprehend and the mind (at least mine) doesn’t seem to wander quite so much. (Yes, call me a fan and Greg’s going to owe me big time for all the nice things I‘ve said.)
Today’s “beatitude” was “Blessed are the meek….” What does meek mean? The correct synonyms found in a thesaurus would include mild, gentle, tame, and patient, but most would agree with Steve’s “namby-pamby.” Yes, most people would think that meek people are weak people; or as I would call, a “total wimp.” But that could be further from the truth as Greg said, “Meekness takes more strength than most of us can muster.”
One question in particular caught my attention--“Do I do what I want to do, or what God wants me to do“? Greg mentioned a few things he should have done but chose not to do and was even embarrassed to admit to them. Made me stop and think about my own should haves, could haves, and would haves. We all make excuses, have other plans, and don’t like to be inconvenienced. My biggest excuse--it’s out of my comfort zone. Will definitely need to start changing some things and think more of the other person and less of myself.
With Chipper’s beautiful mug splashed up on the screen, Greg made an analogy of his half-obedient “psycho pup” to those of us who are “mostly” obedient. Really, what good are we if only obedient part of the time? Guess that would make us a part-time Christian. Doubt that’s what God has in mind.
Today’s “beatitude” was “Blessed are the meek….” What does meek mean? The correct synonyms found in a thesaurus would include mild, gentle, tame, and patient, but most would agree with Steve’s “namby-pamby.” Yes, most people would think that meek people are weak people; or as I would call, a “total wimp.” But that could be further from the truth as Greg said, “Meekness takes more strength than most of us can muster.”
One question in particular caught my attention--“Do I do what I want to do, or what God wants me to do“? Greg mentioned a few things he should have done but chose not to do and was even embarrassed to admit to them. Made me stop and think about my own should haves, could haves, and would haves. We all make excuses, have other plans, and don’t like to be inconvenienced. My biggest excuse--it’s out of my comfort zone. Will definitely need to start changing some things and think more of the other person and less of myself.
With Chipper’s beautiful mug splashed up on the screen, Greg made an analogy of his half-obedient “psycho pup” to those of us who are “mostly” obedient. Really, what good are we if only obedient part of the time? Guess that would make us a part-time Christian. Doubt that’s what God has in mind.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
CAREER FRUSTRATION
I don’t know about you, but deciding what type of career to have can be very mind boggling especially for those who graduate from high school, enter college, and wonder what they are going to do with their lives; or college graduates coming out and really wondering if the degree they now have in their hot little hand was actually the correct choice. You would think by the time you reach the golden age of 50 all those decisions would be long behind you. That doesn’t seem to be the case for this soon to be 51 year old. They say the average person will change jobs 7-10 times in a lifetime. Seems like I’ve done that many in just the last five years.
Haven’t had much luck with employment lately. Constantly seem to be making wrong choices. Have had a lot of interests over the years. Have tried a lot of different things and usually know within the first two weeks if it’s going to be a good fit. Probably accepted the mail order pharmacy position last November out of pure desperation as no other offers were coming my way. Always avoided call center environments like the plague, so I really shouldn’t have been surprised at what transpired. Applied to numerous jobs of interest but since money was a factor, always chose or returned to the administrative (meaning clerical) route. Knew I was good at it, but just wasn’t my passion. Read an article a few weeks ago about middle aged people seeking employment or having career changes. One of those factors to consider--What is your passion? So, Debbie, what is your passion?
Went to the Arco station the other day to get gas. Pumped the gas, put the cap back on the tank and observed an elderly woman coming out of the store who looked very confused. Got in my car and watched her for a minute as she struggled with the hose. Started my car and noticed the woman was still struggling, so turned off the ignition, got out and went over to help. Got the hose to work properly. The woman thanked me. It felt great. Yes, in that moment I realized what I always knew deep down--my passion is helping people.
When Carl died and everything was blown out of the water, Jonathan and I moved in with my parents. During the next couple of years I helped cook and clean and in my mind was “taking care of” my parents even though my parents were quite capable of taking care of themselves. In my job confusion, thought I wanted to take care of something, but in actuality it was somebody. Have been a nonmedical caregiver for an elderly lady and helped my aunt numerous times. After many anxious prayers, a 100-watt light bulb came on the other day. My passion--taking care of ELDERLY people. So I went over to the retirement facility where my parents reside and applied for an activity assistant position and anything in food service. Of course, the salary won’t be as good, but that is secondary.
Watched a story on Oprah this week proving the fact that it is never too late to fulfill your dreams. Karen wanted to be a doctor and was deemed to be the first one to enter college, but she got pregnant while in high school. Had no support from her husband to pursue college and by the time she was 29, she had five kids. Eventually she graduated from nursing school but still wanted to be a doctor. Secretly applied to medical schools as Karen thought people would think her crazy. Crazy? Don‘t think so--she is the first grandmother to graduate from Yale School of Medicine. Karen also has school loans to pay off. A national skincare company was so impressed with Karen’s story they have agreed to pay the $160,000 school debt.
Although still would like to be a cop, that ship has sailed even though I consider myself in better physical shape than at 25. Also, don’t think being a veterinarian is the way to go. So, I’ll consider getting trained as a certified nursing assistant and possibly even pursue a nursing career. In the meantime, I’ll still work at the fire retardant business until something develops. It is quite a relief to have “figured out” what career to pursue. Now my only downfall is thinking too much and making excuses why it won’t work. And if a great job in an administrative field with tremendous salary and minimal commute drops in my lap, will have no qualms about accepting the offer.
Haven’t had much luck with employment lately. Constantly seem to be making wrong choices. Have had a lot of interests over the years. Have tried a lot of different things and usually know within the first two weeks if it’s going to be a good fit. Probably accepted the mail order pharmacy position last November out of pure desperation as no other offers were coming my way. Always avoided call center environments like the plague, so I really shouldn’t have been surprised at what transpired. Applied to numerous jobs of interest but since money was a factor, always chose or returned to the administrative (meaning clerical) route. Knew I was good at it, but just wasn’t my passion. Read an article a few weeks ago about middle aged people seeking employment or having career changes. One of those factors to consider--What is your passion? So, Debbie, what is your passion?
Went to the Arco station the other day to get gas. Pumped the gas, put the cap back on the tank and observed an elderly woman coming out of the store who looked very confused. Got in my car and watched her for a minute as she struggled with the hose. Started my car and noticed the woman was still struggling, so turned off the ignition, got out and went over to help. Got the hose to work properly. The woman thanked me. It felt great. Yes, in that moment I realized what I always knew deep down--my passion is helping people.
When Carl died and everything was blown out of the water, Jonathan and I moved in with my parents. During the next couple of years I helped cook and clean and in my mind was “taking care of” my parents even though my parents were quite capable of taking care of themselves. In my job confusion, thought I wanted to take care of something, but in actuality it was somebody. Have been a nonmedical caregiver for an elderly lady and helped my aunt numerous times. After many anxious prayers, a 100-watt light bulb came on the other day. My passion--taking care of ELDERLY people. So I went over to the retirement facility where my parents reside and applied for an activity assistant position and anything in food service. Of course, the salary won’t be as good, but that is secondary.
Watched a story on Oprah this week proving the fact that it is never too late to fulfill your dreams. Karen wanted to be a doctor and was deemed to be the first one to enter college, but she got pregnant while in high school. Had no support from her husband to pursue college and by the time she was 29, she had five kids. Eventually she graduated from nursing school but still wanted to be a doctor. Secretly applied to medical schools as Karen thought people would think her crazy. Crazy? Don‘t think so--she is the first grandmother to graduate from Yale School of Medicine. Karen also has school loans to pay off. A national skincare company was so impressed with Karen’s story they have agreed to pay the $160,000 school debt.
Although still would like to be a cop, that ship has sailed even though I consider myself in better physical shape than at 25. Also, don’t think being a veterinarian is the way to go. So, I’ll consider getting trained as a certified nursing assistant and possibly even pursue a nursing career. In the meantime, I’ll still work at the fire retardant business until something develops. It is quite a relief to have “figured out” what career to pursue. Now my only downfall is thinking too much and making excuses why it won’t work. And if a great job in an administrative field with tremendous salary and minimal commute drops in my lap, will have no qualms about accepting the offer.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Troubled Water
Moved my keyboard to my parents' place two weeks ago to practice in a better environment. Would be able to turn the volume up without disturbing the neighbors (the hearing in a retirement facility is not as keen), but seriously, the walls are actually quite soundproof. Mom also would be able to play once in a while when the mood strikes.
Yesterday, practiced that song I so wanted to learn many moons ago. Struggled with it for over two hours. All I can say is that I felt sorry for Mom having to experience such torture. (Dad was in the bedroom with the door closed watching TV which tells you something.) Usually have no problem quitting after utter frustration and surprised I lasted so long. Surprised myself even more by returning today although won’t be practicing quite as long. So, apparently I’m determined to persevere until it’s right. Who knows, it might sound bearable by the end of the year.
Yesterday, practiced that song I so wanted to learn many moons ago. Struggled with it for over two hours. All I can say is that I felt sorry for Mom having to experience such torture. (Dad was in the bedroom with the door closed watching TV which tells you something.) Usually have no problem quitting after utter frustration and surprised I lasted so long. Surprised myself even more by returning today although won’t be practicing quite as long. So, apparently I’m determined to persevere until it’s right. Who knows, it might sound bearable by the end of the year.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
HODGEPODGE
Been a little behind in blogging but besides the few hours working at the job that made life suck, have been spending my free time practicing. Now since there’s a little reprieve there are a few thoughts I wanted to say over the past week and will encompass them all into one. (Yeah, it would probably be easier, and shorter, making separate blogs for each, but then I would have to come up with more than one title, or do it in parts.)
Well, it became official Sunday, April 22, 2007, around 11:45 a.m. The announcement, which I knew, was coming for quite some time. It’s just more real when stated from the pulpit in front of a 100+ people. Worked in with a sermon about the neglected parable from Mark 4:26-29, or in other words, the parable of the growing seed. Done in quite an articulate fashion with the background of Josh, the acquisition of the soon to be England Family Mortuary, and father and son who will be getting an opportunity of a lifetime--working side by side in a family-owned business.
Greg and Janice are two of the nicest and most caring people I have had the privilege of knowing. Who you don’t want to see leave but are happy for them and who will be sorely missed. A man who speaks and writes with such adoration about his lovely wife of 32 years and who would never tell any of those “take my wife please” jokes. (I was fortunate to have had such a man in my life and hope to have again some day.) Have only known this couple for 1-½ years, but think I’ll miss them just as much as those who’ve been at LBCC the entire 14 years. Although not the only reason, they are a big part of why I’m here.
Although raised in the Church of Christ and attending the same most of married life, we became disgruntled after some Christian school experiences regarding Jonathan while living in Texas and never planned to step foot in a Church of Christ again. After moving to California tried different denominations but they all seem to have the same fundamental thought--we’re right and everybody else is wrong. We went to a Baptist congregation and the minister was raised in the Church of Christ and started knocking…… Thanks, but no thanks! We became fed up with the whole concept of denominations and started attending nondenominational assemblies.
After Carl passed away, Jonathan and I moved in with my parents until he graduated from high school. Mom and Dad sold their house in Oceanside and moved into an apartment complex in downtown Long Beach. They had visited LBCC once and decided to attend on a regular basis. Mode of transportation--the Metro bus. I moved up to Long Beach a couple of months later and stayed with my parents on a short-term basis. I was a less than stellar churchgoer. My parents went to church and I was on the Internet and watching the Food Network channel. I offered to drop my parents off at church and they could take the bus home, but they refused. This continued for several weeks and Debbie started to get a guilty conscience. Something is wrong with this picture. Who lets their parents take a bus to church? Decided to take my parents. It wouldn’t hurt to sit in a pew for 1-½ hours. Would just sit. Had no interest in becoming involved, getting to know anyone, or placing membership. This would be a short-term basis only.
Know Mom and Dad had talked about “their daughter” and several people came and introduced themselves. (I have always appreciated those who are nice to and take an interest in my parents.) Every week a lovely, sweet, and pleasant Southern belle always asked me how things were going in my job search. Her name was Janice, the preacher’s wife. Ed and I related about job search struggles. Steve and Laura talked about a fellow acquaintance, the same person who was the best man at Ed and Sylvia’s wedding. Barbara and Pam who had taken my parents up to the Pepperdine Lectureship. Arlene who had grown up in the same town and whose father I had heard preach. Bruce and Chuck who always acknowledged my presence. Sharon who invited me to the singles’ Christmas party. Was somewhat skeptical at first because I’ve attended congregations where the people are overly attentive to you until you place membership, then drop you like a hot potato. Reminds me of a membership sales department in a club-type atmosphere. It soon became apparent that people at LBCC do indeed care about others.
The minister preached sermons that were innovative and thought provoking. Sermons that were out of the C of C philosophy, at least the ones I attended. Issues I actually agreed with and wondered why others hadn’t preached about a long time ago. Praise team, hands raised in the air, clapping. Who cares? A preacher who admitted his infirmities--in public! An elder who admitted past addictions and struggles! People who celebrated other individuals’ sobrieties! Made you want to go outside and look at the sign. Yep, it says Church of Christ.
Suffice it to say, I was hooked and placed membership. I’m continually amazed how this group of people love and support each other and feel so lucky to be included. Greg is a special person (you don’t write a poem for just anyone) who has been such an encourager and supporter to me. They say every person is replaceable. All I know is Greg will be a hard act to follow and there is no one I’d rather have perform my wedding or funeral (whichever comes first). Greg and Janice, I’m going to miss you. (Oh, and Chipper too.)
***********************************************************************
Medicine. Doctors. Lab tests. No wonder people get frustrated and fed up. Dad was scheduled to have his angiogram on Monday of last week and the bypass on Tuesday. Drove Mom and Dad to the hospital and dropped them off two hours before the procedure. I would come back at noon.
When I returned, Mom, B and D were surrounding Dad while he lay on a bed in the Heart Institute. No angiogram or bypass would be done. The doctors determined that Dad’s red blood cell count (RBC) was low, he was anemic, and needed a blood transfusion. Excuse me? I knew his RBC count was low after the lab tests came back when Dad was taken to the ER three weeks earlier. One of the doctors explained how minute differences in RBCs from month to month are not vital but when compared with lab results from nine months ago, there was a significant drop. Hm, I would have checked that before ever scheduling Dad for surgery and wouldn’t have waited until he was already in the hospital before figuring it out; but they don’t pay me the big bucks for my medical opinions. At least I should be grateful that it was discovered before the procedure had started. Dad will have to see his primary doc in two weeks and his heart doc in one month. We’ll then be back to square one and start this whole process all over again.
***********************************************************************
I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be at work but am getting used to Master Quinn (the dog). The first thing I wanted to be growing up was a veterinarian until finding out how much schooling was involved. Unfortunately, I let that keep me from what could have been a satisfying and lucrative career. Who knows, I might have turned into a great animal activist.
Still hating the commute but bought a digital voice recorder to use for blogging so commuting won’t feel as much of a waste of time and money. (However, I should be looking for a new job instead of writing blogs.)
************************************************************************
Well, the day finally arrived. Sunday, the day of my debut. Had helped set up Saturday morning and got to meet Randy and see Keith again. They came out for the annual Pepperdine Lectureship and would be playing in the band. We had a great rehearsal that night and the nerves were already off the charts. High anxiety. Adrenaline pumping. Very antsy. All four emotions were to remain until the conclusion of the gig. Decided during our first practice session that the pinky ring was too much of a hindrance so there would be no good luck charm this night (Still can’t figure out how Liberace played with all those huge rocks, but his response: “Very well, thank you.”)
Morning worship service was not only very inspirational but also very emotional. Cecil, an elder at a church of Christ in Florida, who was also here for the lectureship, gave the communion talk. He spoke from the heart about his church combining membership with a non C of C entity and
being ostracized from a place he had been a key force in for many years.
Keith was prepared to give a sermon on “HOPE” (I know, because I had asked him Saturday), but Cecil’s testimony moved him to speak of his own Christian life battles. You know, I just don’t get it. Christians are commanded to love each other. Traditions, philosophies, disagreements should not matter--a common belief in Christ and the Bible, trying to live a Christ-like life, helping others…these basic things should be our focus. No wonder people take the nondenominational route--they don’t get bogged down with the inane things like instrumental music, raising hands, clapping….
Before our performance that night I had a good talk with Keith. Appreciated what he and Cecil had said. What a neat guy with a great sense of humor! Told Keith if I ever were to move to Northern Alabama, Creekside would gain one new member. Unfortunately, I didn’t get that same chance to talk to Cecil.
The Praise Band was on stage ready to start. Have always enjoyed their performances. Now I was part of this group and standing in front of the Yamaha keyboard. Camille, one of our teens, was to sing the first song. During practice, Camille had trouble projecting. Before she was to perform, told her to think American Idol audition with Simon sitting there (actually I wanted to tell her to picture Greg as Simon--that would make anyone belt out in song). Camille has a sweet voice and didn’t disappoint. Other guests performers: Randy who sang and played guitar and Keith who played the drums. Very talented. The regulars: 1) Steve who looks the part with beard and longer hair, a diverse player of several instruments with an exceptional voice; 2) Ross who plays bass and as Keith noted “fast as greased lightin’”; to me the knowledgeable professional; 3) Greg who is musically gifted but not sure he actually believes it, and now with facial hair looks quite bandish, meaning belongs in a band (okay, so I made up that word). Seem to remember the growth as a Pepperdine tradition, but maybe I’m mistaken. However, it looks good and he should keep it. Miss hearing Joanna sing with the band since she’s been away to college. Think she has a “voice of an angel” and should be the next American Idol.
Greg gave me a nice introduction and said I “blew him away.” Not sure of his meaning, but that would be the last thing to describe my playing. Although having dabbled on a keyboard for 40 years, if you were to calculate actual playing time, I doubt it would total five years. The one who would blow somebody away would be the regular keyboard player, Daniel, a junior in high school. He’s a member of his school’s jazz band and has played some solo performances at church. Greg asked me to fill in for Daniel as he would be out of town at a jazz festival. (His mom told me the band placed first in their division, so kudos.) Talked to Daniel once and have tried to on several other occasions. He seems reserved and has his head down when passing by. Maybe it’s just me, but seems like most teens put their head down when approaching an adult; however, at times I catch myself doing the same thing. Thought Jonathan was shy and reserved, but he told me otherwise. Having a 21-year-old son, you’d think I could have a repartee with a teen without appearing to be a total dweeb (Mom asked if I made up that word too). Anyway, I’ve been invited to become a regular member of the band and think Daniel will be able to teach me a thing or two.
Still hard to believe I was on a stage playing music with a band (only in my wildest dreams). My parents had listened to me for an entire week practicing the songs along with a CD. Received many compliments and Mom said we sounded better than the artists on the CD. After the performance, we all enjoyed a meal and fellowship together.
Will just say this--Practicing, performing Sunday night, and being a part of a band is the biggest thrill this 50-year-old broad has seen in a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO NG time!!!!!
************************************************************************
Just a side note--Again, want to thank you all for taking the time to read my blogs, whether you comment or not. It means the world to me and has been great therapy. I love each and every one of you.
Well, it became official Sunday, April 22, 2007, around 11:45 a.m. The announcement, which I knew, was coming for quite some time. It’s just more real when stated from the pulpit in front of a 100+ people. Worked in with a sermon about the neglected parable from Mark 4:26-29, or in other words, the parable of the growing seed. Done in quite an articulate fashion with the background of Josh, the acquisition of the soon to be England Family Mortuary, and father and son who will be getting an opportunity of a lifetime--working side by side in a family-owned business.
Greg and Janice are two of the nicest and most caring people I have had the privilege of knowing. Who you don’t want to see leave but are happy for them and who will be sorely missed. A man who speaks and writes with such adoration about his lovely wife of 32 years and who would never tell any of those “take my wife please” jokes. (I was fortunate to have had such a man in my life and hope to have again some day.) Have only known this couple for 1-½ years, but think I’ll miss them just as much as those who’ve been at LBCC the entire 14 years. Although not the only reason, they are a big part of why I’m here.
Although raised in the Church of Christ and attending the same most of married life, we became disgruntled after some Christian school experiences regarding Jonathan while living in Texas and never planned to step foot in a Church of Christ again. After moving to California tried different denominations but they all seem to have the same fundamental thought--we’re right and everybody else is wrong. We went to a Baptist congregation and the minister was raised in the Church of Christ and started knocking…… Thanks, but no thanks! We became fed up with the whole concept of denominations and started attending nondenominational assemblies.
After Carl passed away, Jonathan and I moved in with my parents until he graduated from high school. Mom and Dad sold their house in Oceanside and moved into an apartment complex in downtown Long Beach. They had visited LBCC once and decided to attend on a regular basis. Mode of transportation--the Metro bus. I moved up to Long Beach a couple of months later and stayed with my parents on a short-term basis. I was a less than stellar churchgoer. My parents went to church and I was on the Internet and watching the Food Network channel. I offered to drop my parents off at church and they could take the bus home, but they refused. This continued for several weeks and Debbie started to get a guilty conscience. Something is wrong with this picture. Who lets their parents take a bus to church? Decided to take my parents. It wouldn’t hurt to sit in a pew for 1-½ hours. Would just sit. Had no interest in becoming involved, getting to know anyone, or placing membership. This would be a short-term basis only.
Know Mom and Dad had talked about “their daughter” and several people came and introduced themselves. (I have always appreciated those who are nice to and take an interest in my parents.) Every week a lovely, sweet, and pleasant Southern belle always asked me how things were going in my job search. Her name was Janice, the preacher’s wife. Ed and I related about job search struggles. Steve and Laura talked about a fellow acquaintance, the same person who was the best man at Ed and Sylvia’s wedding. Barbara and Pam who had taken my parents up to the Pepperdine Lectureship. Arlene who had grown up in the same town and whose father I had heard preach. Bruce and Chuck who always acknowledged my presence. Sharon who invited me to the singles’ Christmas party. Was somewhat skeptical at first because I’ve attended congregations where the people are overly attentive to you until you place membership, then drop you like a hot potato. Reminds me of a membership sales department in a club-type atmosphere. It soon became apparent that people at LBCC do indeed care about others.
The minister preached sermons that were innovative and thought provoking. Sermons that were out of the C of C philosophy, at least the ones I attended. Issues I actually agreed with and wondered why others hadn’t preached about a long time ago. Praise team, hands raised in the air, clapping. Who cares? A preacher who admitted his infirmities--in public! An elder who admitted past addictions and struggles! People who celebrated other individuals’ sobrieties! Made you want to go outside and look at the sign. Yep, it says Church of Christ.
Suffice it to say, I was hooked and placed membership. I’m continually amazed how this group of people love and support each other and feel so lucky to be included. Greg is a special person (you don’t write a poem for just anyone) who has been such an encourager and supporter to me. They say every person is replaceable. All I know is Greg will be a hard act to follow and there is no one I’d rather have perform my wedding or funeral (whichever comes first). Greg and Janice, I’m going to miss you. (Oh, and Chipper too.)
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Medicine. Doctors. Lab tests. No wonder people get frustrated and fed up. Dad was scheduled to have his angiogram on Monday of last week and the bypass on Tuesday. Drove Mom and Dad to the hospital and dropped them off two hours before the procedure. I would come back at noon.
When I returned, Mom, B and D were surrounding Dad while he lay on a bed in the Heart Institute. No angiogram or bypass would be done. The doctors determined that Dad’s red blood cell count (RBC) was low, he was anemic, and needed a blood transfusion. Excuse me? I knew his RBC count was low after the lab tests came back when Dad was taken to the ER three weeks earlier. One of the doctors explained how minute differences in RBCs from month to month are not vital but when compared with lab results from nine months ago, there was a significant drop. Hm, I would have checked that before ever scheduling Dad for surgery and wouldn’t have waited until he was already in the hospital before figuring it out; but they don’t pay me the big bucks for my medical opinions. At least I should be grateful that it was discovered before the procedure had started. Dad will have to see his primary doc in two weeks and his heart doc in one month. We’ll then be back to square one and start this whole process all over again.
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I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be at work but am getting used to Master Quinn (the dog). The first thing I wanted to be growing up was a veterinarian until finding out how much schooling was involved. Unfortunately, I let that keep me from what could have been a satisfying and lucrative career. Who knows, I might have turned into a great animal activist.
Still hating the commute but bought a digital voice recorder to use for blogging so commuting won’t feel as much of a waste of time and money. (However, I should be looking for a new job instead of writing blogs.)
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Well, the day finally arrived. Sunday, the day of my debut. Had helped set up Saturday morning and got to meet Randy and see Keith again. They came out for the annual Pepperdine Lectureship and would be playing in the band. We had a great rehearsal that night and the nerves were already off the charts. High anxiety. Adrenaline pumping. Very antsy. All four emotions were to remain until the conclusion of the gig. Decided during our first practice session that the pinky ring was too much of a hindrance so there would be no good luck charm this night (Still can’t figure out how Liberace played with all those huge rocks, but his response: “Very well, thank you.”)
Morning worship service was not only very inspirational but also very emotional. Cecil, an elder at a church of Christ in Florida, who was also here for the lectureship, gave the communion talk. He spoke from the heart about his church combining membership with a non C of C entity and
being ostracized from a place he had been a key force in for many years.
Keith was prepared to give a sermon on “HOPE” (I know, because I had asked him Saturday), but Cecil’s testimony moved him to speak of his own Christian life battles. You know, I just don’t get it. Christians are commanded to love each other. Traditions, philosophies, disagreements should not matter--a common belief in Christ and the Bible, trying to live a Christ-like life, helping others…these basic things should be our focus. No wonder people take the nondenominational route--they don’t get bogged down with the inane things like instrumental music, raising hands, clapping….
Before our performance that night I had a good talk with Keith. Appreciated what he and Cecil had said. What a neat guy with a great sense of humor! Told Keith if I ever were to move to Northern Alabama, Creekside would gain one new member. Unfortunately, I didn’t get that same chance to talk to Cecil.
The Praise Band was on stage ready to start. Have always enjoyed their performances. Now I was part of this group and standing in front of the Yamaha keyboard. Camille, one of our teens, was to sing the first song. During practice, Camille had trouble projecting. Before she was to perform, told her to think American Idol audition with Simon sitting there (actually I wanted to tell her to picture Greg as Simon--that would make anyone belt out in song). Camille has a sweet voice and didn’t disappoint. Other guests performers: Randy who sang and played guitar and Keith who played the drums. Very talented. The regulars: 1) Steve who looks the part with beard and longer hair, a diverse player of several instruments with an exceptional voice; 2) Ross who plays bass and as Keith noted “fast as greased lightin’”; to me the knowledgeable professional; 3) Greg who is musically gifted but not sure he actually believes it, and now with facial hair looks quite bandish, meaning belongs in a band (okay, so I made up that word). Seem to remember the growth as a Pepperdine tradition, but maybe I’m mistaken. However, it looks good and he should keep it. Miss hearing Joanna sing with the band since she’s been away to college. Think she has a “voice of an angel” and should be the next American Idol.
Greg gave me a nice introduction and said I “blew him away.” Not sure of his meaning, but that would be the last thing to describe my playing. Although having dabbled on a keyboard for 40 years, if you were to calculate actual playing time, I doubt it would total five years. The one who would blow somebody away would be the regular keyboard player, Daniel, a junior in high school. He’s a member of his school’s jazz band and has played some solo performances at church. Greg asked me to fill in for Daniel as he would be out of town at a jazz festival. (His mom told me the band placed first in their division, so kudos.) Talked to Daniel once and have tried to on several other occasions. He seems reserved and has his head down when passing by. Maybe it’s just me, but seems like most teens put their head down when approaching an adult; however, at times I catch myself doing the same thing. Thought Jonathan was shy and reserved, but he told me otherwise. Having a 21-year-old son, you’d think I could have a repartee with a teen without appearing to be a total dweeb (Mom asked if I made up that word too). Anyway, I’ve been invited to become a regular member of the band and think Daniel will be able to teach me a thing or two.
Still hard to believe I was on a stage playing music with a band (only in my wildest dreams). My parents had listened to me for an entire week practicing the songs along with a CD. Received many compliments and Mom said we sounded better than the artists on the CD. After the performance, we all enjoyed a meal and fellowship together.
Will just say this--Practicing, performing Sunday night, and being a part of a band is the biggest thrill this 50-year-old broad has seen in a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO NG time!!!!!
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Just a side note--Again, want to thank you all for taking the time to read my blogs, whether you comment or not. It means the world to me and has been great therapy. I love each and every one of you.
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