January 31, 2014.

I feel a little bit like Scarlett O’Hara, after making a gown from the green velvet drapery hung in the great room at Tara, right before she went to visit that scoundrel and traitor, Rhett Butler, in jail.

Remember…I said a little bit.

From Gone with the Wind, Chapter 34:

Scarlett puts on her new green dress and goes to visit Rhett in jail. He is impressed by how prosperous she looks when everyone else is dressed in rags. She tells him falsely that everything at Tara is fine, that she has made money by selling cotton, and that she has come to Atlanta to get some more dresses made so that she can attend balls. She pretends to be distressed about his plight, claiming that she would die if he were hanged. He is moved by her apparent care for him and kisses her hands, but as he does so, he notices that they are rough and calloused.

The jig was up when Rhett reached out to take Scarlett’s hands in his. Having felt the callouses, he knew she was lying to him about her current state of affairs. I don’t have callouses from working in the cotton fields, but my hands are more like sandpaper than skin, and my fingers, cracked and split from the extremely dry and cold Wisconsin winter.

Youtube clip from Gone with the Wind.

And that’s why I find myself sitting now at The Panache Academy of Beauty for a basic manicure. Jen, my student trainee, is more than a bit nervous I realize from her trembling hands.  I have to remind myself to breathe every few minutes and to unclench...my...jaw.  “You’re the first client of mine that I’ve made bleed,” she says apologetically. “Your cuticles are really tough.”  The cost of the manicure today is $5 and that old adage does apply, You do get what you pay for.  She’s a student in a 14-month beauty school program and I realize that everyone has to start somewhere, so I tip her 40 percent and leave.

After a cappuccino and a quick post earlier this morning, I had started my day at Total Design hair salon. My grays are extremely tenacious and my hair grows incredibly fast, so to maintain the somewhat fleeting illusion of youth, I went in for a quick color. All this personal maintenance is a prelude to traveling in a few days to my Alma Mater, where I will be surrounded by colleagues – old and new - as a member of the panel of judges for the 71^st annual POYi.

Goodbye, gray.

 After sitting under the dryer to speed the transfer of the color to my grays, I was reclined at the washbowl for a quick rinse and a shampoo.  There were three other clients in the chairs. One talking about some sort of family gathering where everyone was to “bring a dish to pass.” Another, talking about the Super Bowl…well, the commercials during the Super Bowl. Saying that she was thinking about taping the whole event so that she could watch the commercials later, as if that whole game thing was just a nuisance. The woman in the last chair was talking about a text her daughter got from a man. (I’m not certain what the relationship of the daughter to the man was…) The text demanded that she come over immediately to have sex or he was going to text another woman. The “sex on demand” text was followed by a photograph of him, she explained…”stark naked.”

There’s enough material in salons every day to write a book, trust me. And honestly, truth is often stranger than fiction.

January 31, 2014

Farm & Fleet is an interesting place…quite eclectic, really, for a store that goes by that name and that is nestled in a town of a little over 12,000. You can buy everything from Himalayan Pink Salt, to Licorice Jelly Beans, to black-oil sunflower birdseed, to inflatable mattresses. All of which, by the way, we have actually bought there.

Eclectic mix.

On the way back from buying our new inflatable bed, I unfortunately got behind not one, but two trucks, plowing the highway and spreading salt on the newly fallen snow. So much for that $5 car wash this morning that transformed my 4Runner from a dirty grayish white, back to black.  In anticipation of the need, I did buy 3 wash tokens. Always…have a plan B.  I learned that from a former colleague of mine. She was generally right.

While I was driving back, I was thinking about how nice it’s been, really, to have family so close (physically in the same place) for a change.  It’s been fun to spend time with my sister and her children, and her children’s children.  My sister is a grandmother of eight (and just two years older than I am.) She married out of high school and had 4 children, who all have children. She lives across the street and into the woods from my Mother’s house and her children are always stopping by for one reason or another. It’s also been nice to spend a little time with my brother too. He’s lived in a few different places, not always in Wisconsin, but he’s been in the area for some time now. He starts that new job in Chicago, the first week in February.  I was explaining that to Harry on our way to school this morning.  “Uncle Bruce is moving to Chicago and starting a new job next week. He’ll be living and working in Chicago.” “Well,” said Harry, “He’ll just have to come visit on weekends.” My mother will be happy to hear that.

Grandkids.

Most of all, even though Mom has come to visit me many times in both Dallas and in Boston, it’s nice to spend time with her; and to have her spend time with Harry. And so far, we are coexisting without much effort. 

We are, by no means, a perfect bunch, but thinking of all of them made me smile.

When I returned to my Mother’s, I filled the afternoon - until picking Harry up - with chores. The birdfeeders needed filling. The paths and walkways needed shoveling (3 inches of new fluffy snow and another 3-5 inches on the way). I didn't shovel the driveway, because the last time I did that, my nephew (with the snowplow) showed up the next day. There was laundry to do. Waste for the compost pile and for the deer. And I needed to put drawstrings in the canvas toy bags - an almost complete little side project - that I had sewn for Harry. (Bright orange, sunny yellow and grassy green drawstring, also found at Farm & Fleet.) I had to deflate the old mattress (although it was doing a pretty good job of doing that all by itself), and inflate the new mattress. The new one is shorter in length and barely holds my 5 foot 10 inch frame without my toes hanging over the end of the bed, but it's comfortable and works much better - so far - than its predecessor. I've issued a new rule to Harry...unhappily...no jumping on the new bed!

When I was driving to get Harry from school, I passed the beautiful red sumac trees that line the road.  Trees that I have passed a hundred times already, always thinking about how beautiful they are against a blue sky or covered in snow. There is a picture to make there, I thought. So today, after the new snow, I stopped the 4Runner in the middle of the small country road that Harry calls “Grandma’s road.” I hesitated for a quick moment, because there is a lot more traffic on that small country road then there used to be when I was a kid. I flipped on my flashers, rolled down my window and framed the sumac tree with my iPhone. I touched the little imitation shutter release once and looked up. It was chaos, in an instant. A red car passed me, hurriedly, on the right. I was technically on the right. I watched the little red car scream by me, then glanced up to see a school bus barreling toward me. "Geez," I thought. I quickly adjusted, flipped off the flashers, repositioned the 4Runner on the small country road - more to the right than middle - and drove on. I waved to the driver of the school bus. She didn't wave back. 

One frame, but it’s a nice one.

Sumac tree (belonging to the genus of the cashew family).

January 30, 2014

Harry has taken to getting up on Grandma's step stool to announce his presence to his audience. That audience, for now, consists of me and his Grandmother. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls..." his voice booming and his arms outstretched. This kid has performance in his genes.

After seeing President Obama the other night take the podium, Harry announced, "Mommy, look, it's the president!" Excited to see him, he watched carefully, as the president entered the room, was greeted by well-wishers present for the joint session of Congress, and then began speaking.

Last night, Harry picked up his step stool, placed it in the center of the living room. Then he slowly moved from empty chair to empty chair in the living room, with an outstretched hand, gesturing in a movement as if he were shaking someone's hand in a greeting. He looked at me and said, "Everyone wants to meet the president." 

Delivering the State of the ... well, the living room.

Our blow-up bed has ceased to stay blown up.  It was only about a week into our stay at Mom’s when it first struck a leak.  Harry loves to go bounding into the room and fly (arms outstretched) onto the bed, unfortunately sending the mattress flying into the exposed heating elements along the wall (forced water heat.)  There was a stray piece of protruding metal, meant to hold a panel covering over the heating element that pierced the mattress as it went soaring into the wall. I patched the holes (yes, more than one) with electrician’s tape and it seemed to take care of it for several weeks. When we went to bed the other night, the mattress was severely deflated and squishy. I have examined it closely, looked for new leaks and listened intently for the sound of hissing air as it is squeezed from the mattress, but I’m unable to find the current leak/s. Four nights, now, I’ve gone up the stairs to the room before Harry and re-inflated the bed. (Harry hates the sound of the inflating motor, so he stays behind – downstairs - with Grandma until the bed is fully fluffed.) We close our eyes, and go to sleep on a fully inflated, firm bed, but wake squished into the middle, in a sort of deep cavern, Harry mostly sound asleep on top of me in one way or another.  I haven’t slept those 4 nights, much at all, so it’s off to Farm & Fleet this afternoon to buy another one. They (Farm & Fleet, that is), are coincidentally having a sale on inflatable beds, almost 50% off. Mom said she would buy this one for us, sainted woman that she is.  And hopefully, it will mean a decent night’s sleep tonight for both Harry and I.

I glanced out the library window to see that it’s snowing like crazy outside. I knew more snow was coming today, but didn’t expect it to look so near “white out” conditions. It is, however, a balmy 27 degrees above zero, a welcome change to the bitter, frigid temperatures of the polar vortex.

Lady Justice at the Public Library.

I got a car wash this morning, trying to erase the salt and sand from my 15-year- old gem of a 4Runner.  I’ve been advised a few times by my brother (a long-time resident of the cold) that it’s important to wash all that stuff off when the temperature climbs to the low 20s. And that would be today, after a long time hovering well below that mark. This has been THE best truck ever and I have managed, over the years, to take good care of it. It has taken me 116,000 plus miles in the last 15 years and I hope it will be taking Harry and I to our new home soon.

What came with my oil change.

I’m following up, today, on several leads sent to me from friends in the business.  The New York Times ran a story about a major expansion by The Washington Post, the newspaper where my former boss is the Editor. That expansion did specifically include the photography staff, although I couldn’t find anything on their careers page that gave a more specific description of actual open positions. I sent an email to the Director of Photography there today; asking whether she thought my skills and experience might match something opening on her team. The Wall Street Journal is also looking for a Senior Picture Editing candidate. It seems that the industry is loosening up a little and investing in expansion instead of contraction. I’m still actually hoping something will come from one of the two other applications I’ve made – both promising positions in a bit of a different direction for me.

Things are beginning to look up and I’m confident that I will be re-employed in the next couple of months. We’ll need to be careful with expenses and make smart choices.  Harry and I will be in our new home and we’ll be beginning that next page of our journey together again very soon. I can feel it.

January 29, 2014

I’m sitting down to write this post with a cup of organic green tea and a couple of Pepperidge Farm cookies. The Big Valley is on television. (Remember The Big Valley? It’s really on just for background noise, although Jared is trying a court case that has the whole town all riled up…)

First some random things and then back to the point…

When I was driving home from Starbucks (using the Internet and downing a bonus cappuccino), I saw something in the road in the distance, on the opposite side from where I was. As I got a little closer, I could see that it was a small red fox. A beautiful, brightly rust-colored little red fox. I slowed to take a better look and it just sat in the road, looking at me. Its face had such character, a real spirit. I kept driving because I knew I had just seen a car behind me But seconds later put my foot on the brake…I was thinking about what a nincompoop I was, not to try to make a picture of it! When I checked my rearview mirror, I saw the car quickly approaching and hoped that it too would see the fox. I realized then, that it was too late to make a picture and I regretted that, the whole drive back to Mom’s house. There’s very generally a lot of wild life to see when driving from place to place around here, but that was the first fox I’d seen close enough to greet. Wild turkeys, cranes, deer, pheasant, owls; all crossing the road in front of you or just hanging out in the fields and brush along the roadway. It does make the commute more interesting.

When I pick Harry up from school each day, we like to watch the shadow that the 4Runner makes along the side of the road (the sun is at just the right angle at that time in the afternoon).  We watch it as it whizzes along next to us, disappears into the shadows and reappears. Harry can even see his own shadow in the back seat of the truck. He giggles and asks, “Who is that in our truck, Mommy?”

Today when I was leaving the library, I stopped in the women’s bathroom. There was another woman in there with the contents of her purse strewn along the counter as if she was intently looking for something. She looked up as I entered and immediately said to me, “Maybe you can help me?” I said that I didn’t really know if I could, but asked, “What is it that you need?” She went on to tell me that she was $1.25 short of a cab ride to get home.  I laughed briefly and then realized that I had, and stopped. She looked at me quizzically and I tried to explain, “Well, I lived in a big city for a long time and that is one of the most common scams that people run on the street…they ask for money for the bus, for a broken down car, for a phone call, a quick snack, lots of things." I can’t tell you how many times I was approached on the streets of Boston, and usually I tried to help, even though it probably should have been against my better judgment. If I had a couple of extra bucks on me, I didn’t really mind giving them up, just in case the assumed scam had a bit of truth to it.

I went on to use the bathroom.  She kept talking. And talking. And talking. In just two minutes, I learned that she lived in a nearby town, but was here to help her Grandma and Grandpa who were going through some difficulties and that she couldn’t walk because she had injured her knee, torn some ligaments, I believe. (She later showed me that her knees didn’t look the same through her blue jeans, one appearing much larger than the other.) She talked without stopping, the entire time…while I was in the stall, while I washed and dried my hands. After my hands were dry, I opened my wallet, saying that I thought that I only had about $3 to my name right now. I gave her the $1.25 and wished her luck.  She was still talking when I went out the door.

Heritage display at the Public Library.

When I got to Wal-Mart (my regular, every other day stop to pick up Mango yogurt for Harry), I parked my 4Runner across from a van in what seems to be an always-packed parking lot. The van was empty and not running. There was no one in sight. But the windshield wipers were swishing across the windshield, in regular intervals. I stood there a minute, watching them, and then I laughed…out loud. I still don’t really know why.

I was sitting in the living room last night, listening to the State of the Union address (with my Mother). Harry was dancing around the living room, running back and forth to the kitchen. I listened with heightened interest when I heard the President say “…this Congress needs to restore the unemployment insurance you just let expire for 1.6 million people.”

My ears really perked up as he went on to say, “Let me tell you why.”

And then he told the story of Misty DeMars:

Misty DeMars is a mother of two young boys. She’d been steadily employed since she was a teenager, put herself through college. She’d never collected unemployment benefits, but she’s been paying taxes.

In May, she and her husband used their life savings to buy their first home. A week later, budget cuts claimed the job she loved. Last month, when their unemployment insurance was cut off, she sat down and wrote me a letter, the kind I get every day. “We are the face of the unemployment crisis,” she wrote. “I’m not dependent on the government. Our country depends on people like us who build careers, contribute to society, care about our neighbors. I am confident that in time I will find a job. I will pay my taxes, and we will raise our children in their own home in the community that we love. Please give us this chance.

Change a few simple details, and that story is also my story.

I’ve been working since I was 13 years old. I put myself through college. I’ve never collected unemployment benefits – until now – and I’ve always paid taxes. I chose to have my son Harry as a single parent, who could afford to provide him a bright future. And now I wonder about the future for both of us.

I am the face of the unemployment crisis.

I didn’t just have a job; I had a career. I worked really hard and I was fortunate to be successful. I want that again.

I will build another career; continue to contribute to society, and live in a community that I care about with my son.

And like Misty DeMars, I just need a chance.

My state unemployment benefits expire in a week. Without the restoration of those benefits by Congress, providing a federal extension, I won’t have unemployment insurance either.

So, I’m hoping for that chance soon.

Opportunity.