Don't take my ongoing silence as a disinterest in writing. I've actually been doing quite a bit of it - just not here (if you don't count the two drafts I started... and gave up on.)
I've been spending the last week or so writing a couple of very long letters on Sam's behalf to the MRC. One letter is giving a "brief" recap of what he's been doing for the last year, what it looks like he will be doing for the summer, and hopefully laying some groundwork for the early fall and beyond.
The second letter was in response to comments I got back from the first letter - which then resulted in a long followup phone conversation.
In addition, I've been making other phone calls - not only to the
MRC, but also to SSI to clarify his standing with them. And in between
those two, I've been starting to look look into the possibility of available ADA transportation in our area. I haven't made much headway with that, but after I get some of this other stuff in motion, and after I have a meeting with Sam and his Job Coach next week, that's pretty much next on my list.
Unless something else comes up.
All of this is a part of that same process* I've written about too many times before - of feeling my way along that dark corridor, hoping I'm heading in the right direction, and hoping, as I stumble along, that I'm finding the right doors.
So, there you have it. Now, aren't you glad I haven't written?
(* i.e., life)
Friday, June 30, 2017
Thursday, June 22, 2017
This Past Weekend
I think I've said this every time that the kids have been able to come home for a day or two, and if I haven't, then I've certainly felt it. But I want to say again how nice it was to have all of the kids around this past weekend.
Doing what used to be the everyday things, becomes even more special as time passes.
Doing what used to be the everyday things, becomes even more special as time passes.
Sunday, June 18, 2017
Father's Day
Much like the rest of my life, I’m at the point with this blog where I can’t remember if I’ve told a particular story or not - so I either tell it again, which is OK, or I don’t tell it at all. Which, I guess is ok too.
I know I've written about some of this before but a little bit of it, at least, was in a memory book, given to Dad many years ago.The general story was the same, but I left out some things back then. And I left some things out of it here, as well. If I didn't, it would probably be at least three times longer - digging deeper into the minutia that no one but me would be interested in. And in the end anyway, it's all the same story. With that being said...
Here’s a picture of a postcard I came across a while back. This is a picture of the corner drugstore that was an integral part of Dad and I running our Saturday morning errands together. This was always our first stop. The picture is almost exactly how I remember it (aside form the old cars), and it's before the storefront was redone many years later.
The drugstore was long and narrow, with a back door emptied out into a parking lot -which was where Dad and I parked when we got into town. Coming in through the back door, you would pass the pharmacist on your right, who stood high up on an elevated platform behind a tall, wood paneled wall and a high counter. Dad usually stood at this counter while the pharmacist waited on him and I usually stood behind Dad - at least for a few short minutes.
Across from the pharmacist and behind Dad and me, was an old wooden phone booth. While I was waiting for Dad, if I wasn’t further down the store, standing transfixed in front of
the candy bars, or up front, staring at the cool gumball machine, I
would be in the phone booth, opening and closing the doors - which was pretty neat because when you went inside and closed the
heavy wood and glass doors behind you, a dim yellowish light and a fan
on the ceiling would automatically turn on. Open and close the doors
once - they would turn on. Open and close the doors again - they would
turn on. Open and close the doors three times - they would turn on. On and on it
would go.
When Dad finished up, we would head over to the bank. And after the bank, maybe we would go to the hardware store, the lumber yard, or... who knows.
One of the places we might go was to "The Crest", which if you look real close at the postcard, you can see it in the background, on the right. The Crest was mostly a newsstand, although they sold other things too - cigars, greeting cards, even things like tubes for your TV.
When we went to the Crest, Dad would usually buy me a couple of comic books or some Batman trading cards or sometimes both.There was a phone booth in the back of the Crest, as well, but there was no light or fan in it, so it wasn't as much fun as the one in the pharmacy. And since we were really only going there for my benefit, there was no reason for me to be the one killing time.
Afterwards, we would take our time and walk back to the car. Dad and I might make another stop. Or two. Or three. Or sometimes, we would just head home. But either way, I knew - there would always be next weekend.
The drugstore was long and narrow, with a back door emptied out into a parking lot -which was where Dad and I parked when we got into town. Coming in through the back door, you would pass the pharmacist on your right, who stood high up on an elevated platform behind a tall, wood paneled wall and a high counter. Dad usually stood at this counter while the pharmacist waited on him and I usually stood behind Dad - at least for a few short minutes.
Across from the pharmacist and behind Dad and me, was an old wooden phone booth. While I was waiting for Dad, if I wasn’t further down the store, standing transfixed in front of
the candy bars, or up front, staring at the cool gumball machine, I
would be in the phone booth, opening and closing the doors - which was pretty neat because when you went inside and closed the
heavy wood and glass doors behind you, a dim yellowish light and a fan
on the ceiling would automatically turn on. Open and close the doors
once - they would turn on. Open and close the doors again - they would
turn on. Open and close the doors three times - they would turn on. On and on it
would go.
What made it even better was the old phone inside the booth. It wasn't old for that period of time, but this was back when you had to actually dial a phone, as opposed to pushing buttons. And that kind of made it better because it felt more mechanical and it made kind of a clicking sound when you spun dial spun. So I would wait in there, sitting on the wooden seat, opening and closing the doors, spinning the phone dial and flipping the spring loaded coin return down. It was like having my own personal rocket ship - which is exactly what I was pretending it was.
When Dad finished up, we would head over to the bank. And after the bank, maybe we would go to the hardware store, the lumber yard, or... who knows.One of the places we might go was to "The Crest", which if you look real close at the postcard, you can see it in the background, on the right. The Crest was mostly a newsstand, although they sold other things too - cigars, greeting cards, even things like tubes for your TV.
When we went to the Crest, Dad would usually buy me a couple of comic books or some Batman trading cards or sometimes both.There was a phone booth in the back of the Crest, as well, but there was no light or fan in it, so it wasn't as much fun as the one in the pharmacy. And since we were really only going there for my benefit, there was no reason for me to be the one killing time.
Afterwards, we would take our time and walk back to the car. Dad and I might make another stop. Or two. Or three. Or sometimes, we would just head home. But either way, I knew - there would always be next weekend.
Thursday, June 15, 2017
Another Stroll Down Memory Lane
I see that Adam West has passed away. I’m sorry to hear of his passing. From everything I’ve read, he was a really nice guy, which is always comforting to hear about one of your childhood heroes.
I was about ten years old when the Batman TV show was on, and I, like most sane ten year olds, thought it was the most awesome show ever to be on TV. But my viewing pleasure was slightly handicapped back then.
First of all we only had a black and white TV. It wasn’t until the Batman movie came out that I realized how even more awesome it looked in color. It’s not that I got to see the movie in the theaters. I only had the opportunity to glimpse it from afar when, on a family trip home from the mall one night, Dad pulled the station wagon over on the side of the highway, so I could watch a minute or two of it on a drive-in movie screen which was about a half a mile away.
The other thing that handicapped me was that this show was on during Dad’s thankfully short lived, “No TV on a School Night” phase. While that phase was short lived, it was enough to severely cramp my viewing pleasure - especially for a show like this. Unlike maybe every other show in history, Batman was on two nights a week - Wednesdays and Thursdays. Wednesday’s show ended in a cliffhanger with the exciting conclusion to be wrapped up the following night. On those occasions where Dad buckled in from my incessant pleading and let me watch a show, it was invariably the Wednesday night episode I got to watch. But that was it. For me, the exciting conclusion would have to be wrapped up by listening from the outskirts to the breathless recounting of the episodes by my fellow inmates in the schoolyard of the Harris State Penitentiary.
And speaking of the Penitentiary, I remember having one of those cool rubber Batman rings which I got from a gumball machine. I made the mistake of wearing it one day, at lunch time. Big mistake. I was sitting on the “Cold Lunch” side of the cafeteria, trying my best to blend in with the faceless masses, when I was spotted by one of the guards (Mrs. Moynahan, as I recall.) She came over, put down her billy club, and asked me for my ring (because, obviously, it was causing a major disruption in the enforced fear and silence of the lunch room.) I handed over the contraband and she then proceeded to put on my ring and walk around the cafeteria, mocking both me, and my ring. Ah, good times! Another hard learned lesson about the dangers of being an individual.
Anyway, despite that all of that, I have fond memories of the show and of those times - outside of the penitentiary, that is. And, it really was a pretty cool ring, especially if you were only ten years old.
I was about ten years old when the Batman TV show was on, and I, like most sane ten year olds, thought it was the most awesome show ever to be on TV. But my viewing pleasure was slightly handicapped back then.
First of all we only had a black and white TV. It wasn’t until the Batman movie came out that I realized how even more awesome it looked in color. It’s not that I got to see the movie in the theaters. I only had the opportunity to glimpse it from afar when, on a family trip home from the mall one night, Dad pulled the station wagon over on the side of the highway, so I could watch a minute or two of it on a drive-in movie screen which was about a half a mile away.
The other thing that handicapped me was that this show was on during Dad’s thankfully short lived, “No TV on a School Night” phase. While that phase was short lived, it was enough to severely cramp my viewing pleasure - especially for a show like this. Unlike maybe every other show in history, Batman was on two nights a week - Wednesdays and Thursdays. Wednesday’s show ended in a cliffhanger with the exciting conclusion to be wrapped up the following night. On those occasions where Dad buckled in from my incessant pleading and let me watch a show, it was invariably the Wednesday night episode I got to watch. But that was it. For me, the exciting conclusion would have to be wrapped up by listening from the outskirts to the breathless recounting of the episodes by my fellow inmates in the schoolyard of the Harris State Penitentiary.
And speaking of the Penitentiary, I remember having one of those cool rubber Batman rings which I got from a gumball machine. I made the mistake of wearing it one day, at lunch time. Big mistake. I was sitting on the “Cold Lunch” side of the cafeteria, trying my best to blend in with the faceless masses, when I was spotted by one of the guards (Mrs. Moynahan, as I recall.) She came over, put down her billy club, and asked me for my ring (because, obviously, it was causing a major disruption in the enforced fear and silence of the lunch room.) I handed over the contraband and she then proceeded to put on my ring and walk around the cafeteria, mocking both me, and my ring. Ah, good times! Another hard learned lesson about the dangers of being an individual.
Anyway, despite that all of that, I have fond memories of the show and of those times - outside of the penitentiary, that is. And, it really was a pretty cool ring, especially if you were only ten years old.
Wednesday, June 14, 2017
Today's Brief Update
It’s been another week occupied with a whole bunch of stuff, each of them with their own rapidly approaching deadlines: Sam’s IEP and establishing his summer program, issues with the house, and as I mentioned, my car.
Where am I at with each of them? Who knows. Hopefully closer to resolution than not - but I’ve long since learned that until something is done and final, it’s best not to assume that something is almost done and final. I’ve been proven wrong too many times. But I’m hoping…
Where am I at with each of them? Who knows. Hopefully closer to resolution than not - but I’ve long since learned that until something is done and final, it’s best not to assume that something is almost done and final. I’ve been proven wrong too many times. But I’m hoping…
Thursday, June 8, 2017
Old Friend
I think it's finally time to get a new car. And when I say “new”, I mean “used.” I hate dealing with stuff like this. The gamble of a “new” car and whether it's going to be a lemon or not, the new expenses. It makes me uncomfortable.
I remember a night, several years ago. Rachael was living out in the Berkshires at the time. One cold, rainy night, Helaina, Jake and I drove out to pick her up and bring her home for the holiday. (Was it Thanksgiving? Christmas? I don't quite remember. But that's unimportant) We got there early (naturally), so the three of us killed some time at a rundown department store and then we headed over to the next town, where we loaded both Rachael and her luggage into the car for the ride home.
On the slow ride home, the car was filled with the kind of laughter and conversations that people have when it’s been awhile; the kind they have when they’re glad to see each other. And the scattered silences, as the conversations wind down, are filled with contented smiles.
When it comes to things like this, I always wonder how this purchase is going to come back and bite me. How long will it be before it breaks down and I find myself standing on the side of the road - most likely a deserted country road. Far from home. With no cell phone service. In a cold rain. At night.
But as bad as the worry of the unknown is, what's even harder for me is getting rid of my car.
But as bad as the worry of the unknown is, what's even harder for me is getting rid of my car.
Every car I've ever had, I've had for quite a while, and this one is no exception. I've had this car for eight years. A lot has happened in eight years. Back when I got it, the girls were in college, Jake was still in high school and Sam was still in middle school. Many miles over many years were spent shuttling each of them back and forth to their respective schools or to doctor's appointments or spent running errands. A lot of time was shared in this car and like my other cars, it becomes a part of our history.
I remember a night, several years ago. Rachael was living out in the Berkshires at the time. One cold, rainy night, Helaina, Jake and I drove out to pick her up and bring her home for the holiday. (Was it Thanksgiving? Christmas? I don't quite remember. But that's unimportant) We got there early (naturally), so the three of us killed some time at a rundown department store and then we headed over to the next town, where we loaded both Rachael and her luggage into the car for the ride home.
On the slow ride home, the car was filled with the kind of laughter and conversations that people have when it’s been awhile; the kind they have when they’re glad to see each other. And the scattered silences, as the conversations wind down, are filled with contented smiles.
And while I don't remember the conversations, what I do remember is the feeling of it all- that we were all together, and we were heading home for the holiday. I remember the sounds of the conversations mixed with the now freezing rain as it hit the windshield, and the rhythm of the wipers as they as they kept their steady beat. And I remember looking in the rear view mirror and seeing the smiling faces behind me, shining in the silvery glow of headlights of the occasional passing cars.
But I digress.
This car is, unfortunately, showing it's age. Over the last few years, certain parts of the interior would break off and I would either have to stick them back on with Velcro, or leave it off entirely.
But I digress.
This car is, unfortunately, showing it's age. Over the last few years, certain parts of the interior would break off and I would either have to stick them back on with Velcro, or leave it off entirely.
It started when whatever the pre-Velcro mechanism is which holds the up driver’s side sun visor, broke. Then, the part in the cup holder that helped my cup stay in an upright position, snapped off - thus allowing my cup to tip onto its side, spilling coffee, every time I turned a corner. Then the “hidden” change holder door broke, so that on certain corners, along with my coffee tipping over, coins would also spill out. Some people would take these things as warning signs. But I took them all as minor losses of conveniences which I really didn't need.
But unfortunately, it hasn’t just been the loss of a few minor conveniences. There have been more and more repairs, coming more and more frequently. And each repair is becoming more and more expensive. And now, along with these ongoing repairs, the mileage has started to plummet, as well.
But unfortunately, it hasn’t just been the loss of a few minor conveniences. There have been more and more repairs, coming more and more frequently. And each repair is becoming more and more expensive. And now, along with these ongoing repairs, the mileage has started to plummet, as well.
Loss of conveniences, more and more repairs, declining mileage - I’m finding this car and I have a lot in common.
So, with some trepidation and some amount of loss, I realize that I have to give this car up and get another one. I'm hoping this new one will be repair free - at least for a little while. And I hope that, like the other cars - it will be more than just transportation; that it will be a place where we continue to share time together and create new memories.
Friday, June 2, 2017
Photo Gallery
I'll get around to posting something at some point. I think. Until then, here's some lovely photographs I took with my own two thumbs. Enjoy!
I'm pretty sure this is a partial portrait of the side of my hand, no doubt missing whatever once in a lifetime shot I was trying to get.
This one I really have no idea. I'm thinking it might involve food.
This one obviously is a photo of some Venetian blinds. How or why I accidentally took this photo, I have no idea (though, I guess that answers part of my own question.) This isn't even in my own house, which happens to be about the only place I know of that has any Venetian blinds. I like to look at this photo while the song "Private Investigations" runs through my mind. (If you're not familiar with the song, you probably shouldn't even be on this blog... But that's ok. For you, I'll make an exception.
Here's another self portrait, capturing what many feel is my best side - which is, the toe area of my right foot - but only if my sneaker's on. If my sneaker is off, then the opinions tend to be exactly the opposite.
That's it for right now. Feel free to print them out and make your own captions. Rest assured that none of these are copyrighted, and even if they were, I have no inclination to sue anybody (despite my constantly saying otherwise.)
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