Holiday Drift

The day before Thanksgiving holiday and the office is open for business but little is getting done. In fact in all the offices I have ever worked, little gets done before any significant holiday. Yesterday the boss brought in lunch, potato and leek soup with mounds of cookies, a bunt cake and pastry. There are still goodies—still nothing compared to what Christmas will bring but still there a festive mood slipping over the place. In fact the boss was just in my office letting me know that she planned to shut the office down around two this after noon. She also not
r a doctor’s appointment in a few minutes and I know that is just going to spill all kinds of fuel on office anarchy until her return. Half of the staff is out leaving just four of here to cover phone and stand ready for emergencies. We four can get awful rowdy given the opportunity and lack of supervision.

It’ been a rough two days this week. There has been a mass of tension in the office as one of the office mates has been under the management’s crucible. Even though the focus of management attention is not on me per se—I still feel the tension. I feel I am being watched, especially if I associate with the officemate who is the center of the storm. Little changes but I feel the tension. Sad but I feel the office mate is on her way out. I see some power play issues going on and some lines recently have been “drawn in the sand”. Youthful pride and a weird brand of elitism. It’s a silly and risky game to play—the stakes can be high. However, the officemate is young, this will be a terrific learning experience for her. She has the resilience of youth on her side and oddly enough the huge bureaucracy of the State. For her age she has been with State for a long time, has built up the State protections, leave and skills to survive in this system. She will do well regardless of the local out come. I guess her selfishness of doing her dangerous places a lot of tension with her mates at the office who cannot afford to be or appear to be so cavalier.

We are a call center, small but a call center, all the same. We live by our calls. However, the day before a holidays the calls have dropped to zip…nothing going on except family members calling to find out when we are being turned loose, get decision for holiday preparations and to have you pick up last minute items before coming home. There is no need to have two operators on today. This is typical. I think the folk we serve realize the “great system” grinds to a halt during this time of year and unless they are desperate: eviction, utility shut off, death or burn out, the folk just hunker down during the cold and hope for the best. Coming out only to pick up food boxes, Toys for Tot deliveries and other essentials of the season.

Holiday Miracle number two. Yesterday I lost my cell phone on the way home from the train—I figured it was gone. Loosing the phone would not have been the end of the world. It’s a very old Nokia, Nokia does not even service the phone any longer and it’s “the old system”. Everytime I go and try to get a new head set or something the inform me of this. So, I maws, sort of hoping ths lost phone would be the force o drive me to get anew one. I noticed the phone was gone this morning and I figured I lost it last night.

Dianne just called and a little Gangsta found it and called her a few minutes ago. Wow! Dianne gave him $5.00 and everyone was happy and I am connected once again.

WHITE GLOVES AND STONES

What a great morning! We actually got to bed at a decent time last night so I was up and out fairly early—I think I left he house about 6:15 am which is best. This time assures me I will get to the train station in time for an early enough train to get me into the office to get my day planned with out the stress of the later times bring.

The City is locked under a massive high pressure system which is blocking any clouds or chance for storms which means temperatures drop like stones in the evening and the mornings are pretty cool if not cold. The cold of late autumn is still too new for me to have gotten all my winter gear out. I have my sweaters, jacket and a few hats but that’s all. I have yet to lay hands on a full set of gloves. The jacket I am using now is very large—this is necessary for me to be able to put on and take off independently especially without having to undo the zipper. I pull the jacket on and off like a shirt. On mornings like this morning I “ turtle”. I pull the jacket up over my head as far as I can and zip up the front to my nose. I then pull my left hand up inside the sleeve of the jacket. I try to do this with my left hand but I must leave the hand out so I drive my power chair and the cold morning air really freezes my hand. I was pondering the need to start seriously checking out the boxes in the garage for the rest of the Winter gear when a white object flashed by the road. The object had an odd shape in the morning darkness. I spun around and backtracked to what turned out to be a white glove when a white object flashed by the road. The object had an odd shape in the morning darkness. I spun around and backtracked to what turned out to be a white glove lying in the road. In fact, the white glove was a right hand glove. The glove could not have lain there l9ng for it was still clean—after a couple of hours on the street the leather would be a lot more scuffed. I thought right off this is the first of the Holiday miracles. I scooped up the glove and tugged it on my hand and sure enough the glove was a perfect fit. I was feeling pretty food—a glove for my right hand and with my other hand tucked up into the sleeve of my jacket I was fairly toasty. I powered forward and was back on my way when I stopped again. The route I take to the train station is industrial and surely the glove(s) had been placed on the hood or roof of a vehicle and been forgotten and lost as the tuck entered traffic. I thought if one glove was gone then maybe it’s mate was close by. I zipped back to the spot where I picked up the glove and sure enough less then 10 yards away there was a crumpled mate…a bit more thrashed then the right hand this left hand glove was wearable and kept the cold blast of morning air off my hand. The glo9ves are not super warm, they are work gloves not winter or snow gloves but they did the trick and kept my belief in Holiday Miracles intact.

I get off the train at the Delta Center, the home of the Utah Jazz, NBA(?) ball team. I assume the building is a nice arena and have a number of events in the building all year round. This morning I was greeted by a fleet of semi-trucks and private over the road coaches( buses)all the coaches match then I remember today is the 22nd. Today day is the Rolling Stone concert—Mick and the other ancients are in my fair city blasting out Satisfaction, Long Tall Women, Start Me Up and I am sure so much more.


I will not be going though—cannot justify the time or the money. I think I want to remember the boys as they were as we all were at some other point in time.

Hey Buddy Can You Spare a Can?

I was up too late last night—family trauma but at least all seems to be ending well. I wish I could blame the lack of sleep on the family trauma because even if the trip to the emergency ward had not taken place I would have stayed up at least till 11:00 PM. I got sucked into Rome and I thought the final episode which DID air last night was on 9:00-10:00 pm edition but I was wrong—last night the 9:00 –10:00 slot was the Encore episode, more specifically, last weeks show. The Series finale was on afterward at the 10:00 to 11:00 PM time slot and I watched it. Had I been smart and patient I would have realized HBO will feature this episode again next week and I would be able to access the show at a better time for me. Like I said though I was into the whole Rome thing by then and besides I was trying to be supportive and stay up till Dianne got home. Dianne did get home about 12:30 am. So I am a bit sleep deprived but I am making it through the day.

It’s the holiday week. I am betting very little really gets done this week. All kinds of vacation is being taken in this office and I know likewise through out the State. So, if you are a consumer needing some type of State support you better be persistent and have your stock piles build up. Offices will be running on skeleton crew staffs, phones will be answered but that is about all. I am working all week but he holiday and half a day on Friday. I plan to come in the morning and make a fast day of it. I just know I am going to get a zillion calls of evictions, utility turn offs and food need. And you know what? I don’t have anything I can tell them. Maybe the food response is doable—I MEAN right after Thanksgiving who will not have a bone to spare? Food banks will tank pretty fast the next week going into Christmas but right after T-Day I imagine something will be available. The Food banks should rebound as Christmas nears with more and more Public Service Announcements air, and more and more local network news crews show up at the main downtown homeless park doing remotes to show the need. Oh yeah, the ever present lunch news feed from the down town soup kitchen line showing not only the grisly older guys hut whole families standing in line waiting for a sandwich, cup of soup or what ever. This is the kind of energy which will start driving the food conscience of all the locals who CAN and SHOULD donate a meal or two if not to the season then to the people in need. The local mangers of the various food bank have been sweating the food donations from the first tsunami this year that everyone will donate to the international crisis and forget about the CRISIS in our own back yard or rail yard or City Park. I had a one hour and forty-five minute call this morning from this waif of a small soul who needs a self imposed special diet. Everywhere she turns she is turned aside. Actually the waif is quite brilliant but a but naïve and beside herself. If she were stupid her systemic abuse would not be so bad because she would not conceive the great conspiracy to her but she does know and is aware which greatly adds to her pain. She feels her religious structure if not her God has forsaken her. She is at odds with just about everyone in her life. The most I can do is listen—sometimes I sense that helps. Other times, I can actually give her a small bit of information or direction which might even help. Many times I must bite my tongue not to judge her comments even if they inadvertently take aim on me and my office; the best I can do is to listen and try to remain objective.

We Did It!!

Hey, I am I am surviving the “cousin sleep-over”. I am a bit groggy but I am doing ok, just a few more hours and we will do the last hand-off to the other grandparents. Honestly, I am still amazed that the first trade off yesterday went off without a hitch. John and Emery( the other Grand Parents GP) even dropped of Jasmine of while Dianne was off getting the other GD(Grand Daughter) Auni. So, there I was the middle aged crip of a grandfather taking the hand-off. I think John and Emery were a bit spooked not really having spent a lot of time with me and not knowing my true skills. There was some small talk making—they were stalling in hope Dianne might drive up but no go. They finally had to cut bait and leave to get to another family function on the other side of the family. We just plugged i one of the Little Einsteins and Jazimine was tranced out. I know Dr Ow has some serious reservation with Little Einsteins but i do not see any harm with Jasmine, who is almost two. Between Little Einsteins and two picnic baskets we have of stuffed animals. Jasmine never even noticed the exit of the other Gps.

Auni spent the night too, I credit part of the reason this sleepover has gone so well is the presence of Auni and her willingness to act as a babysitter. Auni has done a great job, playing with and Jasmine, feeding jasmine and paying attention to her cousin.

Dianne and I are both exhausted. Jasmine just does not go to sleep when it's her time for bed. The kid fights sleep. I even noticed that after we decided to get the baby into bed with us, that jasmine was even sticking her fingers in her eyes as a last ditch effort to conscience; a bit strange but cute. You had to be there. Jasmine only had one bout of crying just as she went to sleep. I think this is when she missed her mom the most. Jasmine finally conked out about 10:30 but she flopped round the bed enough to keep me away and not getting to deep into sleep. Thats OK , I can hold on till the trade-off. Dianne is a sleep for a few more minutes.

The trade off is complete it went well everyone is happy—Auni did great and earned another night—maybe we'll get some sleep tonight.

TIME SHEET-TIME SHEETTIME SHEET-TIME SHEET

TIME SHEET-TIME SHEET TIME SHEET-TIME SHEET TIME SHEET!

I

TIME SHEET-TIME SHEET TIME SHEET-TIME SHEET TIME SHEET!

I just gone through, once again, 120 minutes of terror and horror trying to find my timesheet upon which is calculated you life, your groceries, yopur clothed mortgages and rents and so much more are all dependant on if you get your timesheets in or not—mileage is one thing—I can get by with out the mileage—in fact as I was frantically rifling through the chaos sitting on my desk I happened to find a mileage check I had forgotten to cash in September!! But you have your time sheets and they have to be done right and they have to be in no later the “Friday November 18, 2005 at 5:00 PM!” that is what the memo-email said which was circulated late last afternoon, due, of course, to the Thanksgiving holiday. I was gone so I did not see it this morning when I came in. The mileage check is just recreation money it’s like a gift which comes halfway through the month—the check is the “klickback” I get back from the employer for investing in a bus/train pass once a month…it usually works out to just over twenty bucks.

Not only do you have to have your timesheets filled out and submitted by the end of work today! You have to have to have the OFFICIAL TIMESHEET which was sent with your last pay Stub—you know the document which gives you your record or account of hours earned, annual earned or spent, insurances paid for, etc, etc. I am usually. If the official timesheet is lost, I have learned, it is a major process getting a blank one to just write all the regular info on. The human resource folks just seem to freak And then loath me for doing something as irresponsible as loosing the damn sheet—you can pull them off the State website but oh no, they want the one which came with the work receipt. But, I found the timesheet right on the clipboard where it was supposed to be. I over looked the document when I first looked for it this morning leading to this major desk purge. Too bizarre. But as it is I gotta go. I have a meeting soon and have to drive cross town to get there… hopefully I’ll get a chance to add more to this evening…maybe we are having both granddaughters(GD) mover for a sleep over and I am a bit traumatized. This is the youngest GD’s first time spend the night at our place. This is also the longest she has been separated from her parents. The parents are to be gone about three days and the first night and day will be with the maternal grandparents and we will get her for the last segment. I am worried that we’ll measure up to the job. I have stacked the deck in our favor however. I have invited the older GD, Auni, to spend the night too. Auni and Jazzy seem to get along well. This is as close as Auni gets to be an older sibling- Auni has little contact with her other cousins and having her over is great for us and great for Auni too. So, I gotta get home and help clean and kid proof; we really are not set up for a three year old.

Winter Triple Crown

I can sense the pressure building not even close to a boil but as the friction of the holidays gets closer the heat will create an intense boil. I was wondering what the irritation I kept feeling all week then realized that Thanksgiving is next week—the first of the majors in what I call the winter Triple Crown. Thanksgiving, Christmas and New years! I could throw in Hanukkah and probably anywhere but the Intermountain, United States Hanukkah is right up there with the other big three. But for me and my life they are T.C.&N. which actually sounds like a railroad

We are going to my brother’s this Thanksgiving; actually that is where we go every Thanksgiving. His house is not accessible and I have to be drug up the steps of his porch and pulled into his house. The bathroom is not on the main floor but the main floor is where I will stay the entire time while I am there. I have a bottle for #1 and I just have to pray against having to do a #2—if I have to do a 2 I am going home. My ancient mom will be there and frankly that is the main reason I am going. My brother is incredible. He drives a hour South and back again to bring mom up for dinner then reversed the process. This allows me to spend some equality time with her and not make the drive myself. Again, I would do this drive willingly but the home she lives is not accessible either so I see my mom when I have the opportunity so I am doing the Fam Thanksgiving dinner.

Like every other family in America these days we are a blended family; add to this that our kids are old enough to have spouses which means families and extended families which means they have to be at dinners everywhere throughout the valley. This also means parts of the family do not feel comfortable with other segments of the family so there seems to be some familial territorialzation. I try to minimize the tension as best as I can. So, even though we are not having a giant Thanksgiving feast at out house, it looks as if we WILL prepare a turkey and pies ( we have to bring one pecan and rolls to the gathering) and have something to eat on later in the Thanksgiving evening and plenty of left over the remainder of the weekend.

The tension seems to ebb as I float through the last week of November, knowing I should be diligently doing my Christmas shopping but diligently putting the effort off—which is stupid but adds to holiday tension. Add to this the Christmas plays, parties obligatory church and family get-togethers, heating expenses , eating expenses visa and mastercard payments and on top of everything else…tithing settlement! The friction n has caused enough heat to generate a rolling boil. Spousal arguments increase as does the personal guilt for providing less then a stellar Christmas. But I must pause to regain my composure. Luckily I am from a family and dogmatic background which never understood how to celebrate New Years, the last of the Holiday Triple Crown. I am too old to really do any serious drinking for the event and even if I did or could stand the “morning after” I hate loosing the whole day trying to recover—when I was younger this was not a problem it is now.

Just thinking about the Holidays

OH SHUTE! OH, THAT CHUCK

Oh SHUTE! I just got off the phone with my old buddy Josh , director of the local 211 project. Boy was he pissed. Josh tried to be diplomatic but I could tell he was simmering. Josh was incensed that I told my old buddy Chuck about his secrete 25 years of work party celebration( see yesterdays blog). I, of course, tried to laugh then whole thing off :

Me laughing … “are you kidding you sent a postcard all over the city and you expected that Chuck would not find out?

Josh… “ But you told him! Didn’t you read the card at the bottom it said ‘This is a surprise’

Me: Come on Josh, if not from me—and I did not tell him, I just asked how long he had been director from 211 and he just inferred from that.

Josh: But you told him!

Me: He inferred from the question I asked and besides he thinks the event is for today—I clearly led Chuck away from the event real date which is tomorrow.

Josh: BUT YOU TOLD HIM! I CANNOT TELL YOU ANYTHING(frustration masquerading as stressed laughter).

Me: Yeah, I could never be a spy, the second they started walking toward me with that tooth probe I’d tell them everything. And besides you sent out a general post card with all the information on it.

Josh: (frustration turning to anguish) But it said it was a surprise right on the bottom of the card.

Me: Right! On the bottom, you had to read all the way to the bottom to know that…who finishes a post card?

So, I asked him if he still wanted me to come. I let him know I would not go now…now, that I wrecked everything by letter his precious secrete out. I told Josh I was too ashamed now and besides I had to go to Ogden tomorrow. However, Josh insisted that I show up at least for the award section…I could skip the movie.

I hope Josh doesn't read this blog--Chuck might but Josh works waaaay too hard.

Chuck Who?

Day 34

This is an image of “a” Chuck White” not THE Chuck White which is what today’s blog is about. I am still searching for an image of THE Chuck and have not scored yet. I think I might have some archived on another computer or backed up on a CD somewhere.

My buddy Chuck White works at the local Information and Referral line, in fact at one time he was known as “Mr I&R”. He has worked at this program for 25 years this month and he served as Executive Director of the Line for 12 of those 25 years. Chuck is a marvel, he actually resigned his post of this agency and went back to school to become an educator which he still has to realize. He is close I understand just a couple more yard. Chuck , thank God, came back to a post at the “211” line as an operator and yet he seems relatively happy. Chuck is steady, dependable and Lutheran one of the few, comparatively speaking, in this valley of Mormons. Chuck could be characterized as jolly and though not loquacious, highly verbal. Chuck seems to be a happy professional; answering the questions he is flooded with on a daily base. Chuck is punctual and regular at his work. He is one of those guys you never considered would come in late for work. Chuck is the legend, he is the I&R operator everyone wants to be when they grow up. Chuck is the one who can make the difference. No one can does information like Chuck.

Chuck is being honored sometime this week for his 25 year term—it was supposed to be a surprise and I think I blew it. I actually called Chuck to ask about the event—it was during this call that I looked at the bottom of the post card, I had called from, and saw in small type across the bottom, “This is a surprise!” Great! If Chuck did not know about the event before I called he sure as hell knows about it now. Come on! Do you really expect something like a twenty-five year employment commemoration, on yellow postcards mailed to who knows who, is going to remain “SECRETE!!!” I think not, it was just a matter of time till someone in the area made the call. I was just the buffoon who did the deed. Well, I did tel Chuck the wrong date for the event—so if he does not read this blog I should be OK—Unless, I scan the invitation post card in and list the image of the post card along with the image of the wrong Chuck White. Or I could blur out the critical data—man that’s a lot of work and I love old Chuck dearly but work is work
And the scanner is all the way into the other office.

Winter came during the night—it was like 28 degrees when I headed out for the train this morning. The sky had cleared the great wind which rattled the house all night blew the smog away out over the great desert leaving pristine views of the huge Wasatch Range—this will last a day before today’s commutes smogs up the valley—let the inversions begin.

New Shoe Blues

Day 34

These are my new shoes—Dianne got them over the weekend. They are HUGE but that’s OK. I actually need them huge due to a birth defect on my right foot. My little toe rides up on the toe next to it and will rub on the roof of shoes which have not been worn in. so the bane of my life have been new shoes. It seems that it takes at least a week of painfull rubbing of the toe against the shoe before there is enough wearing the shoe is functional. Being in the middle of ten children this issue did even come along till adolescence when I bought new red wrestling shoes. Brand new, fresh out of the box smell fire engine red with white stripes. ( I really wish I had an image of these to show.) This was very much the exception to the rule.

My shoes usually came from older brothers, cousins or second hand stores but mostly hand me downs. I really never considered anything else—I did not have a clue that others were getting new shoes every year or sooner. Actually, as I write this I remember a set of baseball cleats I got a year or so before the wreck—this I guess has to count as shoes. So yes, I did get new shoes but not many times. Again, usually by the time I got the shoes I was going to get the leather or cloth were worn to the point not hurting my toe when I put the shoe on for the first time.

I think I have unusually fat feet especially for crip feet. It’s not like I am standing on these t blocks flesh at the end of my legs eight hours a day to spread them out. So, I have learned if I purchase shoes large enough I can find a pair that reasonable fit with little discomfort. In order for a shoe to this wide the shoe ends up being long as skies. Life is a trade off. I figure the trade off is worth it since the shoe is going to last a long time, wearing out from the top down. I have a pair of waffle stompers I have had for 15 years that have almost new tread buy really worn out along the wholes where I pull the strings tight when tying the shoes up. Actually there are huge holes in the toe and round the top of the shoe from dog chewing. I know para s who have tennis shoes which have looked new for decades.

So, I have a brand new pair of shoes they are so huge i.e. wide, they barely fit in the Boing chair I push when I am work. I am getting used to the shoes and the chair now it has been almost four hours of wear. I think I will be able to make it through the day with out having to remove them. They are Timberlines over a hundred if not purchased on Sale. Dianne got them for $22.00 such a deal. Even if I just use these shoes for a paper weight the purchase risk is worth it. I think the shoes make my feet look huge is in long but who cares for leather, quality manufacturing and a little toe in comfort.

Summer's True End

Day 32

Dianne harvested the last of our summer produce. A clump of peppers which have were actually planted this Spring by our neighbor La Nae has been growing in the small bed on the side of the house. These were almost renegade plants. Growing at the free will watered occasionally by me and I am sure more by La nae but the grew and they seemed to have grown well. The peppers are large by State Fair standards but they are well formed and tasty. Green peppers and hot peppers (red and green) full of flavor and promise. Dianne pulled them up by the roots dirt and all. They are probably still alive sitting on the sink waiting to be processed however we choose. I'll just chop them up and freeze the peppers in small baggies. The small baggies make perfect amounts for meatloaves, sloppy joes and chili oh yes, and pizza toppings.

My dad used to pull the tomatoes at the end of Summer. He'd yank the whole plants out of the ground and hang upside down in the garage. There would always be hundreds of tomatoes of all sizes and different shades of red, many green. They would hang and ripen. We often served fresh tomatoes at Thanksgiving and beyond. I don't know but I think the peppers would do the same, slowly turn different shades red till finally all red some would yellow but all are good. I knew when I came home from school and saw the tomatoes hanging in the garage that summer was truly over, the promise of warm days were gone till Spring. The freeze would come with in a week and everything in the garden which was not harvested would be “burnt down” to the ground and the cold weather would set in.

The cold has held off for quite a while this year the grass is still green and needs cut and the willow's leave still have yet to turn and flutter to the yard. The rain clouds have broken and the even sky is clearing...I am sensing a freeze is in it's way.

Happy Veteran's Day ?

Day 31

Happy Veteran's Day

Is ' Happy Veteran's Day' oxymoronic? You know one of those phrases that sort of negates itself, Veteran's Day is one of those holidays thst I feel kinda guilty have fun one once I fully understood the purpose of it's origin.

Sort of like Memorial Day—really how can you really have any fun on a day set a side to remember dead folks—even if they are your own. I suppose if your uncle Jack was a molester you could throw a party or something to celebrate his demise and be guilt free but Uncle Jacks or Grandpa Buck s are more the rarity then the norm.

Speaking of guilt and Holidays my neighbor is a veteran, I may have even written of him last Veteran's Day. How he is still experiencing survivor's guilt for living through World War II. He really feels his contribution the effort was minimal if no non-existent. Of course I know this is not true—just as Hilleray feels it takes a”village to raise a child”it takes an “Army to fight a war” every Dough boy and every Jack Tar and every one in between.

I missed the whole experience, which is not tragic but still I wish I could have chose one way or the other. Luckily I broke my neck way before I could even be considered for the draft which was just heating in 1966. However, others in my family was not nearly as luck. My older brother knocked off a gas station with a friend and got convicted for armed robbery. This is a long story though and one day may wind up the fodder of a short story. He became a soldier and therefore a veteran, because in those days the political machine populated many of it's military needs from the minorities, middler and lower class volunteers. Often felons were give the “opportunity” and such the third member of my family served this great union. He went on to become on of the ' the few, the proud, the Marines'. And with his group “of brothers” helped pillage South East Asia. My other brothers served: one pre-Cold War and post WWII and the other did his time during the Cold-war active during Berlin Airlift Cuba debacle. Luckily he had no direct involvement in either. He did his time and moved on. There is also my uncle the spy and my cousins the spies(CIA) who also did their bits for the Union. I just have to say thank you all-- this day is for you and though I plan to enjoy being off work but I AM NOT going to feel guilty for being off work or going to DeRailed and maybe even another movie, hitting a restaurant and who knows what else. Thanks for being there even if you did not want to be or feel what you did was not important. You all made the difference, you all were part of the collective “whole” because of you and what you ALL did battles were won, meals cooked, pallets loaded and aircraft and ships were maintenanced. Armies and would be aggressors were stayed and one great country regained it's humility. Thank you every one.

Bon Voyage Mili !

Bon Voyage Mili !

I have a pretty much set routine each day I get to work. I am the first in the office, usually, so I go to my office “punch” my system on; then I go make coffee as the system boots by the time I get back I password through to my files—by this time my coffee is done so I head back to the kitchen doctor my coffee and transfer from my Jazzy to my Boing(manual wheelchair). Now, with coffee in hand, I check out my emails—first State then personal accounts. Then I check my blog statistics and then click “next blog” to see the next five blogs. I was intrigued today by one blog in particular—a blog by Mili Simic—a lad from Brisbane striking out to see the world. He is going to Canada. He has started a blog specifically for his adventure. Now this lad is not just taking the trip he is moving lock stock and barrel. This is so cool. Mili has some friends at least in Canada where he is planning to land. Here is his blog check it out and leave a message.

http://mili-overseas.blogspot.com/ . Check him out and leave a message and then follow his adventure. He seems to do a lot of images so it will be worth your time.

I did something like this years ago—when I relocated to Nampa, Idaho a berg about thirty miles west of Boise—my home town. Moving to a new city is like a complete computer reboot. Everything is crystal clear because you are so focused n trying to learn your way round the new environment. Everything looks strange until everything becomes invisible from familiarity. Markets, theaters, restaurants and bus routs all seem foreign and intimidating. Doing this out of a wheelchair is even more crazy—you tend do a lot of sidewalk checking or in my case driveways. I learned early cities take poor care of their sidewalks—leaving huge “crack monsters” just waiting to reach up and grab your front castor and heave you from your wheelchair. Cities keep their streets in fairly good repair so that’s where I roll any chance that I get. But, mind you have to make sure your access point is in good condition. I think the best part of the “move” experience is the monumental shake up this does for your life sort of like the “nudge” feature on MSN Instant Messenger. A move rattles you back in to reality and everything counts from clothes to money. You can land with friends or fam but this is not real, living with support is just that: supports. Pulling up your pants and cinching your belt and finding that first job or house in the new environment makes the transition complete. Go Mili go!

Tomorrow’s Veterans Day and I am off on Holiday. Probably just stay home and hang out. Actually I am thinkingn of taking Dianne out to Derailed then out to a small dinner. I’ll probably write tomorrow but if I don’t, Happy Veteran’s Day…go hug a vet!

Lunch Hour Depression (LHD)

Lunch Hour Depression LHD is that phenomenon which occurs when you are forced to take your legally proscribed lunch time and you don’t necessarily feel like taking the lunch hour.

Most of the time I take my lunch hour just because I have too- I don’t want to have to stop my work flow roll over to the fridge to retrieve my lunch, heat it up and eat it. This takes thirty minutes living me with having to get rid of yet another thirty minutes or loose them. I just hate giving anything to the System. I would not mind so much if the system was not so punitive about what the system feels about time abuse. So, I max the lunch hour out every chance I get. Many times I just read my book in the Council meeting room and call it good.

Other times I am forced out of the office to “range” for my lunch—this happens when the council room is occupied and I can’t warm up my lunch. Then I actually climb back into my powerchair—then the problem arises, where can you go in an hour you do a decent lunch. There is the mall across the street with typical mall food=fast food. Restaurant choices are limited without having venture deep into the city which means taking a lot of time getting there then getting “set” then the whole lunch process: menued, ordered and fed then back to the office is impossible in sixty minutes. This process is not too bad if I have an extra hour or two.

I suffer from LHD especially from the above situation—you have to use the time but you are not really hungry, especially not hungry for Mall food or other fast food offering. You actually think you might be interested in some of the restaurant offerings. You have the time, money sort of the interest to find out when you get there there is NOTHING on the menu which sounds appealing. When this happens I get a little weird trying to think of a “good” place to go for lunch in the dwindling time I have left. Sometimes I actually have caught my self spinning my powerchair in circles. This has too look seriously unbalanced to those looking on. I usually end up defaulting to the mall—madly crossing the street, entering the mall elevating to the second level the Food court level and dashing to Taco Time or Dog on a Stick grabbing the hot offering and munching on this so called lunch on the way back to the office. The fastest path takes me past the Men’s Homeless Shelter. The guys are in line for the soup kitchen when I pass—I feel their eyes on me and my grease lunch. I can feel their fried food lust even if I choose not to eat my lunch till I get back to the office. The food is in the rolled up paper bag which radiates with the distinct flavor of fast food. I just stare straight a head power forward and loose myself in my afternoon to work and heartburn..there really should be another option.

It Has Started!

Day 28
It has started! The first of the weight increasing holiday meals which are built, subtly into the day’s events. Today is Council meeting and it is catered and it is good. I had smaller portions of the Thanksgiving staples: turkey, ham, mashed potatoes and gravy. I did forgo the deserts. The deserts looked good but not worth my effort of trying to juggle a full plate and push my wheelchair at the same time. There is just too much risk of making a mess. My goal for the next two month is to eat just smaller portions and try to be more active. I know this can be done I just have to be stronger. I know in the next six weeks I have five holiday dinners or lunches, at least three holiday open houses(work related) where rich food is served and two where liquors and wines are served. I have dodged these last two open houses the past couple of years by am compelled this year just for “community out reach”.

It’s the nature of our phone line to help the callers many times we are called to go beyond just giving s phone number of program descriptions—many times we have to do actually research for the caller. Invariably, these grateful consumers seem compelled send or bring us cookies, candies, nuts or high caloric holiday offering. Now, I guess legally there is some question about State public servants receiving gifts and who is going to bus a grateful consumer for thanking her Information and Referral (I&R) operator. And secondly what State “Scrooge” is going to bust a diligent State worker at Christmas?

I can fight the caloric onslaught but I know I will loose the battle. I can be angry at no one in particular being cynical and dark and ruining others holiday spirit by my negativity but I shall choose not to be so. I will choose to be more adult, own my decisions and keep giant portions of food off my plate and pallet. Even though I am in a wheelchair and have limited ability to exercise; I can choose to do something, anything, physical, and burn off some of the celebratory intake. Maybe this year I will be my own Christmas miracle. I will enjoy each and every meal in moderation, and be truly thankful for my “gifts of life, health, family, employment, ability to serve and enjoy presents”. Whew, that was weird I was beginning to feel like I was lost in a Hallmark card. I must not have gotten enough sugar. It sounds like the meeting is beginning to break up. If I am quick and stealth like I can snag a left over pie or something. Moderation, moderation, MODERATION! How many moderations makes a binge? Are cookies wrapped in napkins stuffed in your drawers, bad? Pumpkin pie slices do not travel well in backpacks and punch never lasts till you get home —they are breaking up in the next room I am off questing sugar.

Monday Morning On the train

Day 27

I have never gotten used to the amount of religion I run into in this town. The religion is everywhere, not necessarily in your face religion like the pious residents who are trying to get you under the water baptized—although there is that too you just have to be careful of where you go or who you speak with. I am speaking to a much more subtle approach to letting the world know that you are one of them and proud to BE one of them. Until Trax the most obvious a person could be was to wear some form of BYU propaganda i.e. sweat shirt, base ball cap, or, some other BYU product line.

The “mormon ghanda approach is quietly sitting or standing on the Trax reading your scripture. Now, I don’t know if it’s mandatory to read the Book of Mormon or would one of the three other standards count as much? Now I think of it many of the readers are reading from their Quad or Triple Combination. I have not seen any one just reading from the Bible. I think it would be way cool if the Born Agains would start a major campaign to read their bibles on the train, and the Jehovah Witnesses could read their Watch Tower the train. The could rage against the page and turn there pages just as loud as the could making sure they are being attended too.

I am sure it is just me. I am probably being threatened by these Book of Mormon readers. These folks who are silently loving me back into the “fold”, These folks want me back and will read their brains out to bring this about. I silently watch them, head down mouthing the words as they plow through “Helaman, Alma or Nephi” or some other Book of Mormon” book. I think to myself ‘ I could bring my own trusty triple combination and look like “them”. In fact if I were to bring my own scripture and have them open and my head down and my mouth moving I would effectively be invisible. I could move this a step further and start asking the pious questions,. like a “pop quiz”. If I were to do the pop quiz trick enough times these guys would hide their “sticks” all the way to the bottom of their briefcases bringing out their books only behind the safe closed doors of their bathroom stalls.

You know I guess I am just way too cynical. I should give these readers the benefit of the doubt. I should be open to the fact that the population can be very uptight and stressed out and possibly dangerous. Maybe the scriptural reading is a safety value, a pressure release which allows these folks to make it through another day.

I am including a couple of other images I took on the train this morning. I was having a blast. I have figured away to turn off the flash mechanism and then folks cannot see that I am taking their pics. I did notice a train cop at the far end of the train scowling at me or it could have been my guilty conscience.

Sunday Apple Pies and Cornbread

Day—26

The pie turned out fine. I was actually surprised. I don't think I used the right kind of apples. I used red delicious and I am sure you are supposed to use granny's or some other tart apple. I also did not have white sugar, what the recipe called for and the only brown sugar I could get my hands on was rock hard and I spent 15 minutes, at least, breaking up the little brown sugar stones into a fine powder dust. It worked though the sugar turned syrupy. I also forgot the butter. But really the pie was like by all who partook of it. I amaze myself. I have to confess I did not make the crust—though I have in the past, I can make crusts. Dianne made the crust and rolled it out and all I had to do was put the crust over the pie group once I had the apples sliced mixed with the nutmeg, brown sugar and salt. The apples were probably more mushy then I would have liked but the pie tasted like apple pie and was a great chaser for the soup I had spent the rest of the day cooking.

The soup turned out OK I should have used more seasoning but the soupy was tasty enough for cold dark evenings. I made about three quarts. I bagged them and they are in the fridge for today and a couple other dinners this week, if Dianne does not eat them for lunch. Lunch is OK, that's why I make these weekend meals—easy food for the rest of the week. I wussed out on the bred though. I had made too much of a mess last night with the pie. I spent my creative energy this morning making breakfast and cleaning up from last night. However, I am going to make some cornbread to go with the soup this afternoon.

On Friday I lunched with by buddy Jerry. Jerry is my one real professional writer. I have written about him before use the “search this blog” engine on top of the page and nit should direct you the blog entry with Jerry's image. The inevitable question rose, “What are you writing?” I had to confess that the only thing I am writing right now is my blog. My daily 500 words is taking all my writing concentration. Still 500 words a day ALMOST every day is roughly 15000 words a month which almost more the 150,000 words a year!!! I may be getting close to novel writing endurance. Jerry writes a column for the paper and he indicated the type of writing I am doing is similar to what he does for his paper. He publishes a couple of times a week. In his other writing he is wring editorials—which again I think is very cool and he also writing the mandatory noel. Jerry has a couple of books out and keeps an apartment in the city for his writing all very cool too. So whe3n Jerry speaks I tend to listen he knows what he is doing in the word game.

I don't think Jerry has actually been to my blog... yet. But when we were talking about it I mentioned I had surprised my self in that I had a number of entries discussing if not jabbing the local transit authority. I mentioned I got a lot of my inspiration from my daily journeys on the train. Jerry suggested that I might explore the idea of writing a column on public transit. Since that is what I seem to enjoy writing about a lot. I doubt if I would actually do this with a real newspaper especially if money became involved. I am not even sure how one goes about this. But, the idea is interesting to the point of seriously consideration. Wow, what a thought a weekly column about riding the train as a middle aged crip. Now, that's something to ponder.

Sunless Saturday

Day 25

It's one of those Saturdays that I just want to set here beside by my window and work on my computer or other house hold tasks. The window I sit by is in the front of the house and there is a heat vent right to my side. But, I know I cannot get away with that. I should run to the market and a few other places but maybe I can get Dianne to do that or I can put it off till tomorrow when, the forecasters say there be more sunshine and pre-week motivations begin to stir. It's hang time right now: too early to really get excited about the up coming holidays. There has just been a few queries extended as to where and when the holiday dinners should be—some food assignments but nothing definitive.

The temperature have finally dropped to a point where one has to wear a jacket at least. However, the temp is not uncomfortably cold yet. There's snow in the mountains but just rain in the valley. I can smell smoke from fire places and wood stoves when I do go out. HBO is on down stairs in hopes of snagging something good to watch while folding the wash. I am just about ready to start making a soup if I could just put my hands on some barley. `I know we have some barely but just where is it. Maybe I'll use some dried mushrooms we have had some time purchased from our favorite Asian market. I have lerft over roast from last Sunday which needs to be used or it will be offended—maybe I'll use some green peppers to. I'll try to get an image of the soup up by this evening.

I may add more later too...I just don't have a lot to say right now. Hope you're having a great weekend. Enjoy it while you can. Because after next week's holiday, Veteran's Day, you have just another week till the holiday season officially begins then there is no rest till after the first of the year.

Addendum: 3:43pm

The soup is coming along fine-sort of an Asian mix especially with the mushroom shreds and sauces I have used. I think the soup still needs more salt flavor but maybe when I add the soy sauce this will be enough. The sun has come out as well, a high pressure system is moving in and I bet tomorrow is beautiful...I still might bake some bread if I get motivated. I don't know though. We got word Auni is spending the night and that always takes extra energy. Dianne is great Dianne usually takes the full brunt of child supervision. Again, there is the mandatory KFC trip tonight. I will see if I can bail on that but time will tell. I have to get to making an apple pie right now. Maybe an image of the pie too. Once again happy weekend.

IN SEACH OF MR E.F. YOUNG AKA EFY

Day--23

I feel there is nothing more promising then a refrigerator full of those origami boxes that you get take-out with from Chinese restaurants. Yesterday when I had finished my lunch I asked to take my leftovers with me. I had to specifically ask for the little boxes with the wire handle. The guy was great when he understood what I wanted. He, of course wanted to use those ubiquitous Styrofoam boxes. My lunch was pretty gooey and those Styrofoam jobs just would not handle the job. I had copious amounts if gravy over my egg foo young and I wanted as much as I could so when I heated the left-over s (today) . He did a great job too taking special care to wrap the box with the gravy in plastic wrap making a perfect seal. I had to transport the food This way because I was traveling in my power wheelchair and would be stowing the containers in my back pouch .

Anyway, it worked. I was able to have a delicious lunch with lots of savory gravy and pallet cleansing rice. No don’t get we wrong. I enjoyed the restaurant an I enjoyed the leftovers today. But, as much as I enjoyed this food and flavor this is not the flavors I remember from my childhood. I am searching for an egg foo young like the egg foo(efy) young old Louie Fong used to make.

The House of Louie was this great Chinese restaurant which used to be located on Capitol Boulevard in Boise Idaho. Old Louie Fong ran the place as I remember. He had a brother Henlee Fong. There were a number of other Chinese restaurants in the Boise Valley in the 50’s and sixties when I was on the scene. The House of Louie is the restaurant we frequented most, two three times a year, when I was growing up . So, I did not have much of a variety of other efy’s to compare.

I understand that the ingredients egg foo young is probably as varied as the chef who make it but I would think there might be some similarities. The only similarities I see is that the efy is round, usually fried and flat. The efy’s I remember from the House of Louie, were round, of course, but literally stuffed with onion, green onions and bean sprouts and they were poofy and huge. The egg foo young would come your table three patties on one of those long oval plates that many Chinese dinners are served on. The patties would be covered with gravy: chicken, pork, shrimp, mushroom or beef. When ever I discover a new Chinese place I always order the EFY in hopes of finding a plump little patty similar to the ones I had the House of Louie of my youth. I have not found them yet. What I end up with small flat patties deep fried covered with gravy. These patties passing for EFY are constant too, no onions(Walla Walla or what ever), no celery . The EFY I had yesterday were a homogenized mixture ( but tasty) formed into a patties and deep fried—actually the patties were square I thought it was an ethnic jab at Wendys. I ‘m still over whelmed that I even found this great little place which will have to sustain until I ome across the next “Pearl of the Orient” or “Twin Dragon” and look for their elusive EFY.

I Get Caught in the Minutia

Day 22


I have been trying all morning to figure out how reset the clock on my office phone. It’s one of those super phones with about 15 million features, non of which I use. I do not even program in messages telling, people who call, where I am or when I will be back. There are a couple of folks in my sphere of contacts who do this religiously. I really envoy them its just one reason why they get huge amounts of money and I just scrape by.

I hate reading the Telrad phone owner’s manual which tells you everything but this one specific task. I know that when some idiot wrote the volume he though it would be entertaining to leave this one direction out. Knowing full well that at least twice a year you might need to get into the phone system and change the time. I even think about calling the “Support number” to see if there really is someone at a cubicle somewhere whose job it is to help people reset their clocks. But, my cynicism leads me to believe that more then likely the number leads to a dead end phone sitting on an unused desk at corporate headquarters which just rings and rings and rings like the opening pages in Dalton Trumbo’s Johnny Got His Gun.

I just got back from a trip I had to take across town. A women in a wheelchair is in town staying at this ancient hotel which is just barely accessible. I rarely get involved in direct services any more but she had a compelling story and she is close by so I decided to head out on my lunch hour and head cross town in my power wheelchair. I was not really to help the lady too much—her case is a long and difficult one but she is a survivor. What really got me excited was this hotel—I have been in this town twenty years and I thought I knew about all the cool old places butt his one had passed me by. The place is old and accessible but a very complicated accessible. You have to know the secrete passage almost. You have to go out and down the alley and into the back and through the garage the use the elevators. Really cool. I plan to put some images up. Then I found a great Chinese restaurant. In a building I have been interested in years about seeing the inside of. Well, today I did and it was wonderful..images to be inserted soon.

Where the Bodies are Buried

DAY 21

Isn’t it weird how things are distorted with age ? I am amazed at how elastic or malleable history is. I have been in this town since 1984. I have been mixing it up with different city, state and federal program which serve folks with disabilities and what I remember is quite different then what is being pass for history out on the street. A good friend of mine who does not live in this city but lives in this state did me the service of validating some of my memories last week. This was great because I thought I was loosing my historical perspective.

When I first moved to this city in 1984, I worked for a private non-profit as a community resource coordinator. The agency I was with was a bit of a rabble-rousing group trying to bring about the civil rights and social justice for people with disabilities. Many of our “battles” were waged with an agency whose job was to assist folks with disabilities obtain work skills and find employment. As a private non-profit, out agency, was directed by an independent board of directors. This board was committed to the philosophy of independent living—that people with disabilities have the right to live and control their own lives. One State agency in particular strove to control the private non-profit. There was not much money involved then, less the $100,000. I just could not understand why so much effort was being placed into this struggle.

Years went by and time has a way of wearing the edges of any object smooth—the board members wore out, resigned and moved on. Staff did the same. Those board and staff who could not tolerate the direction of the private non-profit moved on too. Needless to say that although the private non profit retained it’s 501C-3 status and it’s illusion of independence it had slowly become controlled by the State Agency. They advocated only for the “parent” agency”, they took no risks to speak of and had be come invisible in the community.

Now, this is how I see what has happened to the concept of Independent Living where I live. I have kept it mostly to myself. But, as I stated earlier I was speaking with one of the other past directors of Independent living in the state and I asked her if what I remembered of the history of this subject is similar to what she remembers. I was pleased to find that it was. In fact she would like to visit with me to discuss this issue. She indicates she is very worried. I would like that very much but she lives `a good distance from me and will take at 90 minutes to make the drive. I will have to combine my visit to this person with other business I might have in that area. I am not sure what good the visit will do but will allow two seasoned warhorses time to mingle and validate their memories and agree on one very import fact…they know where the bodies are buried.

When Abuse Is A Trade Off

Day 20

When a person gets to my age and stage in life, consistency can mean a great deal; just knowing things are to be the same from day to the next is worth a great deal. So it’s Monday afternoon and the boss is out of the office for a week. Already, one employee did not even come in, one left at lunch, had to get some early time to prep, for Halloween an now a third has informed me she is feeling “icky” and needs to leave for the day…it’s two o-clock and I am about the only one left in the office. This happens all the time, luckily I am no one’s supervisor but they all come to m to ask if it’s OK if they leave. I am surprised they do…I guess because they know that theoretically their absence will add to my workload. But, that’s OK. I agree because this leaves the office the whole back of the office to me. I can crank up my radio if I want, surf the NET or just get my work done in piece. So, I will sit back here, work on my projects and get things accomplished—if the boss calls doing a “check-in” and I think she does these when she’s on the road. She will get me “Ever Faithful”. I always seem to be here when she calls, and this she will remember. I am probably just “whistling in the “Dark”. Actually I may just be trying to assure myself that “all is well” all things being equal. The fact that my program is coming under review by one of our vendors which could actually wipe us out as currently know it. I guess I am not too worried even if the worst case scenario id played out. I would just “bounce” to another office. I doubt if that office would be with the State and I would hate to leave the benefits program I currently enjoy but one does what one has to do. I really think I would get by.

The “time change” happened yesterday. We “fell” back” I really never really notice the change till the first working day after the change when you roll out of the front door to go home and it’s nearly dark. I assume that it will be nearly dark when I exit the train tonight after work. I will need to exercise caution not only well there be truck and cars to watch out for tonight on the roll home but... ghosts, too.

Rolling in the Rain

Do you ever get the feeling you are being set up? I recently have felt all my Spidy sensors going off in meetings I have attended in the community. You know, animated conversations suddenly cease as you roll in the room, you feel more aggression in in comments made toward my program and I am beginning to feel invisible—folks talk about me in the third person even whn I might be in the room . In someways people are too nice, I cath them looking at me like I was dead. “Shields-up!” Things could get grim.

I have known my program has been in jeopardy for a couple of years due to funding loses at the State level and some of the have voiced concern at the quality of information they have been getting. Lately, though, the whispers have been more forth coming and more difficult to iignore. I should be more concerned especially for my own well being but I have kicked round long enough to know these kind of things have a way of working them selves out. I am keeping my ear to the ground though and keeping an eye on the EXIT signs.

Actually, if I wanted to play the “Denial Game” I could just tell my self this is not about me or my program, it's about a feud going on with th office my program is housed in. My boss is under gun ` by people in the community. She has made some great but unpopular decisions of late. Decisions, I totally feel are in the best interest of the consumers we serve and tend to meld with my basic philosophy of Independent Living. So, I could say I am just in the cross-fire and if I get dinged it's just acceptable losses. But the truth, I feel, is that my numbers are down, information has not been updated in a timely manner and our presence in the community has diminished. I could make any one of a number of excuses but that's what they would be excuses. So, I eed to roll-up and take the heat and work to make the program better if we survive, I survive. Until then the office has entered “battle mode” we are circling the wagons and watching our backs.

So with all this in mind I took off at lunch yesterday. I had my hours in for the week at noon, with the evening time I put in with the russians. I needed to clear my head I needed time to myself. I roll in the city—the wet cold city. The rain should have cleared out by noon but a new wave of clouds had just rolled in and the sprinkles had started. I scurried round to a couple of shops but took some of images then caught the train for home. And get this, I drove my van to the train station in the morning because of the rain. I was so lost in thought on my return that I totally spaced the fact the van was in the parking lot. I got a third of the way home before I remembered THE VAN! I turned round and powered all the way back to the train station.

We Are Not Alone

DAY 16


I read a great short story years again in college titled Probability Storm. I wish I could find it again. The story essentially said that probability was like weather it seemed to act in certain ways. Sometimes for no reason an number of improbably events might happen way beyond the frequency of their normal occurrence. Many times when what feels like a probability storm occurs an explanation can be found and the world seems normal again. I felt this morning coming in on the train. In Mid-town I noticed, what looked like a “homeless basket”. One of those grocery carts taken from a market usually pushed by what appears to be a homeless person piled high with all the worldly passions of the person. Later when I got of the train down town to power my last leg into the office I passed another grocery cart just sitting by the light post. This really seemed strange to since I saw another very similar basket twenty blocks South.

The basket was pushed up against the crossing light pole, actually a little behind the pole up against some bushes. In fact I thought on second glance that maybe the owner of the basket was asleep under these bushes but I could not see anything—feet sticking out or something out or something. I was fascinated with the basket that I stopped my progress and dug out my camera and “clicked”. This was someone’s life sitting here in the grocery cart. Clothes, a radio, a package of opened cookies, various amounts of plastic and aluminum there was even an electric griddle. An electric griddle the kind you can buy for a buck at Deseret Industries, Salvation Army or any number of second hand stories in this city. The griddle has been on my mind all day. What a great idea! Since I now use a electric powered wheelchair I keep an eye out for electric pug-ins, I am surprised at the amount of outlets located on buildings down town. These outlets are everywhere. Say you had enough money for a can of Spam, corned beef or even eggs. Find one of these outlets, plug in and you are on your way to a great breakfast or dinner. You could take this to a next step: plug in the griddle, keep it on warm and then sleep on the thing all night when you are outside in the middle of winter. Where did they go?

The vanishing point is just a block away from an NBA affiliate not that means a whole heck of a lot but still this would be a highly- visible area of town—another oddity is this grocery cart remained there undisturbed all through one day and night. And what is the probability that I would see two such baskets in one day? I remember during the Olympics these folks were “whisked away” during the two weeks the Olympics were in town. This has an “Andromeda Strain” feel to it. What if there are multi-dimensional vortexes scatter through this city and these bag people are time and dimension travelers like John Titor? I want to know where they went

Sitting in the Front of the Train

DAY 15

I always sit at the front of the train, whether I like it or not, whether I want to or not. The mini-high block puts the wheelchair using rider on that first car and that the only place a wheelchair user can ride. It seems I am always on display, its always show time. When I ride, I usually have a book and I try to read in an effort to pre-occupy my self during the ride. Many times though when I am reading I can feel the stare. I can feel people looking at me. This happened to me this morning. I am sitting in the front of the train, head down and reading and I get the feeling. Now when I get the feeling I some times jerk my head up with a snap to see if I can catch the leer and catch him in his crip-stare; other times I am more subtle and slowly lift my head and pretend I am doing something else and casually survey the riders till I can find the eyes boring into me.

This morning, when I looked up, way in the back of the train, I noted an attractive older, silver haired women staring beatifically at me. The stare wa so intense and un-compromised that I thought I had mistakenly gotten in the “line of fire”. This stare was obviously for someone else. I as sitting with my back against the wall, there was no one behind me but yet she was starring and staring hard. I had to be the focus of her gaze. It was flat ass weird. This was not the first stare I have ever incurred I shrugged it off and returned to my book. Two stops later I looked up and she was gone. I did not see her exit the vehicle. Why was she starring so intently, at what seemed to be ...me?

I know this is going to sound romantically stupid…but I am a person who was adopted into a great family even before I was born. It is a remarkable story and maybe one I will write about at some point in the blog but not now. The point is I was adopted never knowing my birth parents. Never wanting to know; know these people has never been relevant to me in my life. I have been receiving some pressure from my kids to some degree especially regarding hereditary issues of life spans, disease susceptibility and biological origins. I am the big question mark in their lives. I still have to sort these questions out. But back to the to romantic question, What if I was being stalked by a progenitor? Is this too weird a question? I mean, who would not want to reclaim me? What a find. Go back and see what you gave up fifty some years ago. Reconnect with a life thought lost—It's happening all the time these day. What if you were lucky enough to find him. Sitting in his powerchair, sitting in the front of the train reading his book, wouldn't you stare?

The Russians Are Eating the Russians are Eating

DAY 14

I made the cross town trip in 45 minutes. I was impressed with myself and my vehicle. I got spooked a couple of times when semi’s zoomed pass me and felt as if I was going to be blown off the Interstate but I got there safe. Typically, the address on the announcement was wrong. Lucky for me, however, there were just two building on the side of the street on my side of the street. One building was the hospital and the other was the “Medical Arts” building AKA the doctor’s offices and drug store which support the hospital. One of the two building had to be the site of the evening’s meeting. I decided to default to the hospital and sure enough Jennifer and the Russians were on the second floor.

What an interesting crew. Jennifer( for clarification is the coordinator for the local Sister Cities program) was directing the five docs and five or six interpreters. There were also other Russian folks who are in the area for one reason of the other. In fact one was set next to me. I was amazed at how young the docs were and they were all women. Mostly, OB GYN, but there was an Internist and another a Pediatrician too. None of the docs spoke a lick of English and all but one was under forty years of age and there were attractive for medicos.

The hospital hosted the meal—I would have been happy to have had an open meal ticket and have wondered through the hospital cafeteria. But, the meal was prime rib, two kinds of vegetables and mashed potatoes with skins left on, served buffet style. I have never seen prime rib served this way: the rib was cut into “healthy” portions and piled all together and sitting in a wok over a can of sterno, the same with the vegetables. What a cool way to serve, the line was fast, we got hot food and got on with the evening sort of. Jennifer made us mingle with the Russians by sitting a Russian speaking MD in between the guests. Luckily she sat Professor Goldfarb next to me who could actually speak good English, he is in U.S. to visit his daughter. His daughter is a M.D. too but going to school for further degrees and she speaks very good English. We had a great conversation. I thought it most interesting that he goal was to get his other physician daughter green carded and over to the States at some time. I figured I had put in enough time and just as I was thinking of packing up and leaving Jennifer reveals she is a member of the West Jordan Choir group and they are going to throw a mini concert and they did singing at least 10 selections—some classical, of course, spiritual and at least one was an old Russian favorite.

Now, I am not saying this is a scam- IT IS NOT! But, what a deal if I was doc to get travel over to USA, put up with nice families for seven to 14 days and then get some nice gifts on top of everything else. A number of the OB-GYNOs were heading over to OB following the dinner to “catch” a couple of birth scheduled for the evening.

Pictures were taken—a massive group shot—I will try to post if I can get a copy in digital format. No alcohol was consumed in the dating of this dinner. I bet the Russians wished they were in any other State but Utah.

Beware Raised Brows

DAY 13

Huge staff meeting today or the “Extended Staff Version” somewhere between a “team building” event and how long can I stare at the table top and get on with my job of answering phones. Actually the exercise was not too bad—uncomfortable in some places growth many times is but I am sure some progress was made and will be made. The conclusion of the three hour meeting was that we are going to put some strategies in place and have another “ follow-up meeting” in a month and see what is happening on the outside. My partner dodged the bullet by calling in sick today, I wish she could have been here. I think she always has great ideas.

Now comes the part I hate everyone stops into the office, MY OFFICE , to get my take on the meeting kind of like a debriefing. Is this not a form of gossip, and was not GOSSIP plainly on the group discussion docket today??? I will be good, I will be good, I will be good. This is my new mantra . Luckily, I have an office way in the back of our building. You really have to want to get to my office to get to my office. I hate the “ what do you think…? Question accompanied with the look usually with raised eyebrows. The raised eyebrow, like “you are one of us…trust me”. I have learned you say something and the next thing you know you are in the bosses. I really wanna, gotta believe the raised eyebrow is not malicious buti have learned that when the eyebrow raised somewhere the hammer falls and it usually falls hard. So this is it. All I an going to write on the subject for now. I have learned from Dooce that some things are best unwritten, some things are best left to speculation. Is that healthy?

I have the Russians again tonight. I have to travel all the way cross the valley to Jordan River Hospital—90 streets South and way West. Dinner is at 6:00 pm and I am off at 5:00 so I have but an hour to make the trip during drive-time traffic. I have driven more in the past three months then it seems I have all year. They say drive-time on the West side is always bad. I plan to just chug along on surface streets and get there alive even if I am late. Actually, the event should be cool—five docs from former soviet block Russian states, all women, surgeons, ob-gyns, and others over to US-Utah to learn and be cultural. I am to be at the dinner representing folks with disabilities. Folks with disabilities are still kind a are invisible in this part of the world. Jennifer , who is kinda the director, of this project wants these docs to see people with disabilities from the independent living point of view. There will be interpreters present and I know a small bit of Russian but I anticipate a fast but quiet dinner. I am the disability eye candy.

The Clock Is Ticking

DAY 12

On October 12^th I was approached by UTA(see October 13^th blog) to see what I thought about limiting disabled ridership on certain UTA vehicles due to the elevated risk factor regarding UTA's use of a less then safe bridge-plate for their “San Jo” pronounced “san ho” or just “Ho” light rail cars.

I am going to use the October 12 date for my starting point to count down the days till UTA gets the bridge-plates manufactured. I am using this date because that is the date the UTA spoke with me. Now, I have learned the same rep has spoke with other people if the disabled community and got their input as well which is cool—it's what I would have expected. My question is what date did they quote for completion? IT does make a difference to me. I want those “Jo's” safely use able soon as possible. It's only fair! Once again, able bodied folks are getting the ride when folks with disabilities are waiting up. Same old story because of costs we are regulated to a separate but equal, bastardized transit consumer status. I did not feel good about the trade off then ( there was not trade off except not to make too much of a stink for at least 45 days) and I don't feel good about it now. But I can watch the clock and if they cannot meet their promise then I feel some sort of reparation is in oder.

So, using October 12 as the beginning date of the 45 day count I come uo with Friday November 25. The day after Thanksgiving. This date is straight calendar days. No holidays or weekends. Of course, in my naiveté I did not ask any of these very important questions. Truth be know I was wrestling with the interpersonal battles of “was I a sell out or, why the hrll was I even being asked?” I really was not thinking very straight.

Soccer Uncle

I took some time I had earned this last pay period yesterday or loose it. I did not go into the office yesterday, Auni and Dianne had contacted my sister in law who informed her it was my nephew’s soccer tournament. So Dianne and Auni were going to go over and watch the action. The kid had a game in the morning and one in the afternoon. The games were all the way cross town and I was not sure if I wanted to go on a search and appear at the soccer game but I would see what would happen.

I spent the morning at my workers office getting them to turn some of my 401 K loose. The process was much less painful the I had anticipated the process would be. I was in and out-start to finish in less then an hour. I should have a check in a few day. No problem. I was feeling energized so I thought I would do the trek cross town and find the soccer fields. Forty-five minutes later I had found he tournament. Of course there was, in the best case scenario little parking and no disabled parking, let alone parking with enough space to park a van and deploy the wheelchair lift. I cruised the soccer field twice”sharking” for a parking space and gave the thought of finding something close in. I noticed a church across the street, about a block away from the fields and figured this would do. I was the only vehicle in the parking lot. After all I had my power chair and I can go just about anywhere with the Jazzy.

The time was just after lunch and Dianne indicate that lunch as part of the agenda so I figured I had missed them. I still was not totally sure this was the exact soccer field, they may have been others and the neph may have been at one of those. And tough I an a committed uncle I was just about “searched” out. I checked in to the Operations Table and found there WAS a team fitting my neph’s description and they would re-convene at 1:00 for the next game. I figure I would hand for the next round. If I did not see anyone I knew by then I was off the hook. I had made to effort. I was going to go home.

However, the fam appeared at 12:55 with bags from Burger King—not only were they impressed to see me they had food left over from the ‘Light Eaters’” cold chicken and cold oily fried but it all tested good to me. I was the hero, I came ALL the way out to see the neph play his game. When ever we how up they make it out like this is a major event. We have always told them let us know when the kids play and we will make n effort to be there.

So I took the hero’s welcome: the crip unc who (not only took off work) but motored all the way to the soccer field to cheer on the little guy. Easy duty if you don’t count the fact it took me 66.00 to fill the tak this morning.