My Own Little Epiphany

I'm back. I have new glasses and now I can see again. (Which was just one of the reasons I've been gone awhile.) My eyes have given me a lot of problems ever since the fall last May. Actually the problem does go back to my birth. Along with the Arterial Veinous Malformation in my head, I was born without the vitreous (a jell like substance that fills and supports the eyeball behind the lens) in my eyes. If you've been reading this blog, you already know that. This problem was discovered during my second pregnancy. Which I've always considered one of Gods little blessings. If the problem had shown itself during the first pregnancy while under the Army's care in Germany several years earlier, I probably wouldn't have gotten the immediate care or diagnosis.

That fall last May, tore loose some of the scar tissue that is in the back of the eye where the vitreous should be. This time none of the tissue was attached to the retinae so there wasn't the same damage. I pretty much knew what had happened and I was waiting for things to settle before changing my prescription. (That prescription was new in January before the fall.) The fuzzy, smoky fog had mostly dissolved and I made my appointment with a Doctor I had seen just once, the last time I got glasses.

At this appointment, I learned of another of Gods little gifts. The first time I saw this Doctor, he knew what I was talking about when I described my eye problem. This time he told me he'd injured one of his own eyes years before and had experienced some of what I did. A pulled, not detached, retinea which caused him some scar tissue. Other Doctors over the years didn't know what I was talking about (said they couldn't see any problem in my eye) and actually dismissed me as being mistaken. (My doctor from 1971 had died and I didn't have any of his records.) What a relief. I now have a Doctor who I have faith in. And he gave me some advice that is working beautifully. "Relax. Don't struggle so hard to see." The loose scar tissue in my left eye (that I fell on) is flapping around and occasionally covers or bumps the lens. It's not just common floaters that I notice. When the scar tissue interferes with my vision, I shouldn't try so hard to see through or around it. He told me to blink a few times. If that doesn't help immediately, I should close my eyes a few seconds and relax. Maybe tip my head back if I'm sitting. This advice is for when I'm reading, which is when I have the most trouble. Or looking at something that needs tight focus. It's not such a problem in a general wide view. Relax. Don't struggle. Such a simple thing. I always tend to panic a bit when my vision goes fuzzy or dark blotches get in the way. But, tensing up makes it worse. It's been very frustrating. Along with the headaches (That A.V.M. time bomb up there that is worse with age) and the fear for my vision, (plus sinus and other assorted old age problems) I've not been a happy person. Or easy to live with.

Now for my Epiphany. I had a dream last night. (Rare in itself with my insomnia problems) The story line doesn't matter. (I was me, but living a different life involving music.) But, the lesson I woke up with, my Epiphany, may (I hope) help me be a happier person, and easier to live with. My deep faith has always been a part of me. It's just there and I know God is in Heaven. I've always believed we are here to learn lessons not possible in a perfect Heaven. To follow the Golden Rule and help each other. I know it, I believe it, but it hasn't made this life any easier. (Sometimes, especially when the pain is bad, I just want God to let me go home to him.) My dream was wrapped around music and mixed up with the Doctors words. "Relax, don't struggle so hard to see." I woke up with the words of an old gospel song ringing in my head. "There's A Better World Awaiting, In The Sky, Lord, In The Sky." Suddenly it was more clear then it had ever been. This world is temporary. The struggle is temporary. We do the best we can. Struggling through life, trying to see what is beyond us, gets us nowhere and causes pain to our loved ones. Now if I can just hang on to this feeling. "Relax, don't struggle so hard to see." "There's A Better World Awaiting, In The Sky, Lord, In The Sky."

College Boys

Falls weren't my only reason for wanting to leave the college account. I love young people and I thought working on a Christian College would be a good environment. Most of the girls were fine. There were a few who believed themselves superior to a vending attendent, with the resulting attitude. I could handle that. It mostly amused me.

It was the boys I ran into trouble with. They were rude and demanding, and a few were even worse than that. My second winter on campus, I became the object of one young star athletes spiteful aggression. I have no idea what this fellows problem was. The first encounter with him was an accident, but he enjoyed it so much he continued to torment me.

In each dorm building, my machines were situated in a room between the front lobby and one of the halls leading to the rooms. There were swinging doors on each end of the narrow room. My storage cabinet was behind the swinging door in the boys dorm that led to their rooms. I was in front of the storage cabinet when he slammed that door wide, crushing me against my storage. My back and head were both hit hard and I cried out in surprise and pain. And he laughed. It became a game to him. I don't know if he always went through every door that way, but he always came through that door with all the force he could muster. Which was quite a lot for the schools football hero. No matter how I altered my schedule, he was able to crush me several times a month. I even stopped parking my car in front of that building in the hope he wouldn't know I was there. I couldn't understand how he was able to catch me as often as he did. When I had to get stock from the storage, there wasn't any way to avoid being in the right spot for that door to hit me. I even propped the door open so they wouldn't have to move it to come through. He would just give it a shove anyway. And, working behind the door, I was never able to hear him coming first. You can imagaine how badly I wanted to smash that sneering, laughing face. I did file a complaint with the college, but it continued all that school year. They did move him to a room in the other hall the following year, so he had no reason to use that door. But, I'd had enough of young men with his attitude. The one that said the stupid vending lady was fair game.

The boys dorm was also where all the stealing went on. My company was in the habit of bolting the row of machines together. It diminishes the shaking that people will attemp to dislodge products. That showcase must have been used in another account before going to the college. One side was bolted to the pop machine, but on the other side was a bolt hole where it had been bolted at some other time. The boys discovered they could use a straightened coat hanger to fish candy or snacks into the serving tray through that small hole. They were so brazen, they would leave the coat hanger swinging on the side of the hole. One night they even went so far as to cut the lock on my storage cabinet. The thieves were never discovered because they slid candy bars under everyones doors, and every room in the dorm had a supply of my stock. That is what goes on in the boys dorm of a Christian college.

Combined with the falls and having to lift and carry so much pop through snow and ice, I just wanted to move on to an account with adults, and everything under one roof. Even if it cut my hours.

This One Hurt

Things came almost to a standstill on the Nazarene Campus over summer. Due to seminars and a few adult classes and several conferences, there were still machines to check in the common buildings. I also worked accounts for our people on vacation, so I still worked plenty of hours. Filling in at strange accounts is a bit stressful. The rules were that all orders and paperwork had to be completed before we went on vacation, so I only had to fill and keep things going when I covered an account for someone else. Still it was a challenge finding my way around a few accounts I'd never been in before. I rather enjoyed the change of pace, though I wouldn't have wanted to do it all the time. I managed the vacations so well that the vending company wanted me to be a "floater." Working where ever I was needed. That meant over several counties in our district. I turned it down. With my headaches I worried about unknown situations I might find myself in as a floater. There had been several more minor snow and ice related falls on campus and the idea of a lot of unknown places through the winter didn't sound promising to me. I preferred my own account where I had some idea of what to expect.

I sure didn't expect what happened that third autumn. Leaves were falling and it had rained. I had two cases of pop and a small box with a few bags of chips and some candy bars to take to the machines in the Administration basement. The admisistration offices are in a large, beautiful old three story house on the property that the college was built on. The decor has been kept true to the period of the house. Which didn't include vending machines. I entered through a back door leading through a small enclosed porch that led to the kitchen. The steps to the basement are right inside the door, on the left. Three or four steps lead to a landing, then turn right and on down to my machines at the bottom of the steps. It's an enclosed concrete and stone cave to the bottom. It looked to me like the enclosed porch might have been added later to replace one of those outside entrances to the basement.

I left one case of pop in my car trunk and took the other case with the small box balanced on top. The flagstone path to the door was wet and covered with slippery leaves. I proceeded cautiously and climbed the steps to the back door without incident. Balancing my load on the iron rail, I got the door open and made it inside. I couldn't see well around my load and I was leaning on the door frame while feeling for the top step with my foot. The same procedure I'd used many times for two years. It was sudden. My foot slid off the step and I went down. I didn't stop at the landing. The pop was bouncing off the stone and concrete steps and walls and I was aware of them exploding around me as we tumbled all the way to the bottom. When all the movement stoped, I was twisted up with my jacket pinning my arms so I couldn't move. Not that I really wanted to move. I was seeing bright lights full of rainbow colors. People started arriving before I had even gathered my wits. Later they told me they heard the racket all the way to the third floor. I heard someone yell to call an ambulance and I yelled "No" with enough force to forstall them. Two ladies were poking and prodding for injuries. Another handed me my glasses. That helped. Vision settled down and I only felt bruised. I was able to get to my feet and convince them I didn't need the ambulance. I did ask them to call my supervisor. Someone started to pick up scattered, busted pop cans. The two who had poked at me refused to leave before my supervisor showed up. I said something about the mess, but they told me someone else would clean it up. They only found 23 cans. I never did find out where the last one ended up. (Is it possible anyone could have actually pocketed it considering the circumstances?) I believe all the candy and chips were accounted for. Cathy arrived about 20 minutes later. They found some wet leaves at the top of the steps and we decided they had been stuck to the bottom of my shoes and been responsible for my fall. Sisal mats were found and placed on both sides of that outside door and someone was assigned to keep the flagstone path clear of leaves. No, I didn't sue, it never even occured to me. Cathy finished my job that day and sent me home. I was back to work the next day. But, I was a black and blue and very stiff and sore vending attendant. And, I told Cathy I was interested in changing accounts when another became available. I wanted something inside one building. Even if it meant less hours. I'd had enough of carrying pop through the outside elements.

Vending at The Naz.

I had pop and showcase machines in three Dorm buildings. One a mans dorm and two were womens dorms. There were also pop machines at the laundry building, the community center and a pop and showcase in the basement at the Administration house. After I started, we picked up another pop machine in the library and several in the Auditorium. I had storage cabinets in all but the library and Administration basement. Those two didn't require visits every day, but I didn't have as much to carry if I did them every day. I was promised a golf cart to get around campus, but it never materialized. I hauled pop in my car and used a dolly when there were several cases to haul. I tried to avoid carrying even one case very far.

A new account is always a problem till you can work out a routine. As you become familiar with the "normal usage" it becomes easier to order and take care of each area. So at first there may be a lot of hauling certain kinds of pop from one area to another.

And that led to my first accident at the college. Knox County is hilly. The college property is not flat and the land rolls with buildings on different levels. I was short on 7-Up in one of the girls dorms. At another dorm on higher ground, I found I had enough 7-Up to transfer. But, rather than drive back for one case, I decided I'd walk out the back door and down the hill to the first dorm. It was pretty close. We'd had a dusting of snow and I didn't make the "trip" in a very dignified manner. My feet went out from under me at the top of the hill and I sat down hard with the case of pop landing on my lap. Down the slope I slid on my butt. The worst part was that I had to yell for the kids down below (who never saw me coming) to clear the sidewalk at the bottom so I wouldn't knock them over. Look out below! Scrambling out of the way, they were vastly amused, and I was vastly embarrassed. Maybe I should have told them I did it on purpose. At least I had an easy and fast trip carrying that pop to the other building. No dignity left, but I wasn't hurt.

The second accident was even more embarrassing. I was filling a pop machine that following spring in one of the womens dorms. Anyone who handles aluminum cans knows how easy it is to puncture them. The insides of pop machines are treacherous with sharp edges. I often gave myself soda showers. (I blame my clumsyness on the A.V.M. in my head.) Once a can is punctured it sprays all over and you have to contain the spray quickly or the sticky mess it makes can cover a room. This time I found myself without a trash can near by and the only thing I could see was the open window beside the pop machine. I sat the can on the window ledge with the spray pointed toward the yard, and proceeded to dry myself off and clean up the mess. By the time that job was done, the can had quit spraying. I reached for it, knocked it over and made a mad grab for it, and tumbled right out the window with a bit of a screech. About three feet to the ground. Why couldn't it have happened when no one was around? Must be one of Murphy's Laws. It was our first early warm spring day and the yard was full of girls. Again, I had a big audience who was vastly amused. They helped me up and instead of walking around to the door, I decided what the heck. I climbed right back through the window and finished my work. My reputation on campus was set. I would have been in my early 40's by then. About the same age as the Mothers of most of those girls. Bet they never saw their own Mothers chase a pop can out of a window. And, I wasn't through with accidents at the college. The next one wasn't funny though.

My Part Time Job

When I first took the job with the vending company shortly after the aneurysm in 1978, I was under the impression I had a year to live. My boys were both in school and I was a wreck just sitting at home waiting to die. I hoped the part time job would occupy my mind. I knew I'd never get through a full time day of work. The Dr. thought I was crazy to work at all and tried to talk me out of it. I was in pain, but it was a pain I'd always known. The headaches that would get worse whenever I pushed myself to hard or fast in doing things. I'd learned to pace myself to keep it managable. The vending job fit. Lifting a case of pop was the hardest part, but having a cart to load with six packs kept that at a minimum. I started at our combined hospitals working 5 hours a day. Filling, cleaning, paperwork and occasionally fixing a machine could be done in a way that allowed me to complete each day without overdoing. I seldom saw my supervisor and worked on my own. And it was the perfect place to be when I electrocuted myself. That story was posted on Dec. 30 of '06.

Then a new hospital building was built and I only had one building. Storage became a problem. I went from a storage room in each building to two gutted vending machines for storage. They didn't hold enough to stock up supplies. And cases of pop had to be moved to reach what I needed. Supplies were only delivered twice a week, (except cold milk and sandwiches that came three times a week) so ordering had to be monitered closely so I'd have what I needed without receiving more then I had room to store. I still kept the pop organized so I always knew what I had and what I needed. (I covered some vacations in accounts where the girls just shoved the pop in the cabinet where you couldn't see what was behind what and never knew what was in there. Drove me crazy. Half the deliveries had too much of one selection and none of another. And when I went on vacation, I would come back to the same mess.) One cabinet held pop and the other had to store most of the chips, candy, coffee machine supplies, plus the condiments, napkins, straws and cleaning supplies, money and my paperwork. Cold food and milk for the sandwich machine had to be stored in the hospitals cooler. Where everyone in the kitchen had access to it. I was constantly being hassled by my company about inventory and I believed most of that problem was due to stolen sandwiches. I'd had a cooler in the storerooms at the old buildings, and my inventory was always good.

A few things could be stashed under the snack machine, which is called a showcase. the showcase displays chips, candy, cookies, pastry and gum/mints. Along with the showcase, my hospital account also had the 8 row pop machine, coffee machine and the sandwich machine with two microwaves. Working at the first two hospitals gave me 5 hours a day. The new hospital building meant a cut in my hours to three a day. So I agreed to take on a new account at our local Nazarene College. That gave me a total of 6 hours a day. There were no sandwich or coffee machines at the college. Just a showcase and a pop machine in each of 6 seperate buildings.

It didn't take me long to realize that it was more then I could handle in the time allowed. By then I'd been with the company for 9 years and I could choose which account I wanted to keep. The hospital meant dropping back to just 3 hours a day. The college was growing and would mean at least 5 hours a day. Without the cold food machine at the college, I wouldn't have that waste to deal with. The vending company wanted the food machines kept full, but they harassed us about waste. You really can't have it both ways. But, then again, the college meant handling a lot more pop. And doing it without the cart I'd depended on. The college allowed room for one storage cabinet and even with the bottom of the showcase, ordering would still be tight. But without the coffee machines to fill and clean each day, I could get by with less storage.

I chose to give up my hospital account after all those years and take the college account. My choice was mostly due to the hours. Three hours a day hardly seemed worth the effort of getting up every morning. And I wanted the money. This choice began three years of a most unusual and totally different vending experience. The college turned out to be a dangerous place for me to work.

My Family Grows

Once back in Toledo, JT met the love of his life. But, that is his story and certainly not a part of my own memories. (I was so far away, and grown boys don't keep in touch like a daughter would.) My family was expanded by his wife and her young daughter. Who has now grown up with her own family. Again, I am a Great GrandMother.

Where have the years gone? I remember hearing others saying that. I was usually amused by the question. Now I know it takes the years of living to bring us to the realization that time does indeed fly. This story has reached the time that my oldest son was a man. My youngest was about to finish high school. Another marriage, another daughter-in-law, and TK's children will join my family. JT is still married. TK is not. I'm running into problems of what belongs on these pages. Certainly I have memories of their stories, but they aren't my stories. Even telling about their lives from my perspective, just seems invasive.

So, I will be introducing the members of my story as they enter into my life, and leave my boys stories to them as much as possible.

I have recently signed up for the Social Security I will be eligible for on my next birthday in April. Because I haven't been able to work since that Achilles Tenden problem, followed by the broken wrist, followed by Mono. and various infections, I will not wait to collect S.S. at a later age. (I'm also in the second stage of application for disability.) All of this has brought my attention into the present. I find my memories harder to sort out. The last 20 years have gone by quickly. Gloriously average and boring. After those years of upheavel and drama, I'm finding less to write about. Everything seemed to happen at once and now I've entered a much calmer time. I won't call it normal, there is more to tell, but life settled down to something more like what my friends were experiencing.

Except that age has brought an increase in the pain in my head. Along with the usual aches that go along with age. All those years ago, after realizing the A.V.M. time bomb wasn't going to kill me as soon as the Doctors forcast, I was told that as I aged and blood vessels lost elasticity, I would experience more pain. I didn't trust Doctors by then, and I didn't believe it could get much worse. The intensity might not be worse, but the high level of pain is now more constant. Therefore I'm having even more trouble sleeping. It's getting harder to function and depression is creeping into my days. We've had a lot of storms this winter. They effect how I feel. And, I fear the storms of spring will cause even more pain. Therefore, I'm giving fair warning. I may not be writing as often. And, I don't promise all the humor. But, I intend to try, if only to elevate my own moral. Even without pain, old age brings maturity and a seriousness that I don't welcome. Thank goodness for children, grandchildren and love to keep us on the silly side.

First GrandChild

JT had known nothing of a child till he phoned "that woman." I'm sorry, but I can call her nothing else. When I learned another young mans name was on the birth certificate, my emotions were in turmoil. Regardless of my opinion of "her," the child wasn't to blame. If JT chose to be with her, I would make the best of it. I'm not sorry. The boy is important to me.

Bear and I drove over to Columbus to meet them. A first grandchild should be a time of excitement and expectation. I was consumed with conflicting emotions over suddenly being presented with a little boy almost a year old. My feelings when I first held the little one were nothing like they should be when meeting your first grandchild. He was a stranger. I could find nothing of my family or JT's Fathers family in him. (I disliked his Mother as much as I expected to.)

My journey with this young man over the years has been a strange one. I've come to love him every bit as much as if we'd been a real family. But, "that woman" made it impossible. Our relationship has been random and sporatic. JT didn't stay with her long. But the child and I wrote off and on as he grew up. And managed several visits. Then his Mother would remove him and I wouldn't know where to reach him. Suddenly she would contact me again. Off and on it went over the years.

On three seperate occasions, JT would receive a notice from the courts to appear for paternity tests. She was on welfare and the courts wanted child support. JT would make the trip from Toledo (where he ended up) back to Columbus. Missing work to be in court. But, each time, "that woman" would be in contempt of court by not showing up with her son. The first time, JT stopped to see me before driving back to Toledo with the news that when his case was called; three men stood up for the paternity test.

The child is now a young man; who still doesn't know who his real Father is. He has survived the angry years; for the most part. There is still bitterness and he isn't always sure who he's mad at. But I am, and always will be his Gram Lee. He met and married a very sweet young girl who's childhood was every bit as tormented as his own. I fell in love with her immediately. They have a beautiful little girl and a baby on the way. My "first great grandchilds" picture is on my fridge. They are so young and I fear the odds are against them. But he is very protective of her and there is an obvious and loving connection between them. I pray they will make it. For all he's been through, he is a young man to be proud of. He still disappears from my life for months at a time. But, he always comes back to me, eventually. Asking for and accepting nothing but that I'm still here and I care deeply.

JT, Call Home!

It was months before I finally got the phone call. He was somewhere in the deep South. Georgia, I think, but I won't swear to it. He sounded happy and excited. But his news of a job shook me up. JT had joined the circus. Driving trucks, set up, running rides, a bobo clown in the dunk tank. Where ever they needed him. He was having a grand old time touring the south and up the east coast.

That's all I know about that job. When he was ok, he'd call me. When I didn't hear from him, I always feared the worst. Sometimes it would be weeks or months at a time.

Eventually I got a phone call from Maryland. He'd left the circus when he found a job in construction there. Before I could get excited about the "real job", he clarified it by saying "high rise construction." The idea of JT and his bad luck working up there somewhere in the air didn't make me feel better.

Again, he's never given me any details, but I was right to worry. There was an accident. More horseplay. No one was badly hurt, but they weren't wearing the mandatory safety harness and were fired because of it.

He wanted to come home for a visit, then go back. After his visit, I took him to the bus depot in Columbus OH. (about 55-60 miles from home) I don't remember why I couldn't stay till the bus got there. Probably my job. I thought he was on the bus back to some friends in Maryland.

A few days later I got a phone call from Columbus. He'd never gotten on the bus. Somehow, he'd hooked up with some girl he'd met sometime, somewhere earlier while with the circus and he was living with her in Columbus. He phoned to tell me I was a GrandMother and his son was about 8 months old. (JT should write a book.)