So, what do you do all day?

I just completed year seven of my retirement.  I had hoped by now that I would no longer be asked the question, So what do you do all day?  I seem to be running out of answers.

My pat answer when people ask about retired life has always required a big grin and a reply like this, "Great!  I can do whatever I want when I want."  However, the truth of the matter is that I have been retired for seven years now and I am running out of ideas for what I want when I want.  Ideas that don't involve a lot of money, that is.

I have spent many hours reading.  A good book can keep me tied to a recliner for hours.  I have read many good books in seven years.  But, I'm hitting a dry patch. Too much of what I've read lately is mediocre or repetitive.  I don't even finish the downright awful stuff.  My book club's latest choice has received rave reviews, so I'm hopeful.  But, then what??

I could do chores around the house, I guess.  I'm trying to downsize my possessions so that when I die my nieces don't have to spend months swimming through my junk.  Every time I attack my office, I don't get very far.  I hate throwing away something I might need.  And trust me, if I throw it away, I will need it.  A recent example involved stories I wrote as a kid.  My friend Joan Nobile and I wrote mini-books about people who interested us, those people specifically being Julie Andrews and Thomas Grugen, our handsome gym teacher who lived with his mother in a home a few blocks away from the school.  I threw them away one day while cleaning out a filing cabinet. About six months later, I was reunited with Joan through Facebook. We were reminiscing about how we had written stories together the last time we saw each other some forty-five years ago.  She flipped out and was so excited when I told her I still had them!  Well, I had had them up until six months ago.  Damn.

Gardening exhausts me.  I think it's because I am so short.  I was trimming the bushes in front of my house with the electric trimmer I bought for $8 at a yardsale.  It's a great tool, but my arms ached the next day from holding it so high and tight.  I need to cut back the lilac bush, but I'd have to stand on a ladder to do that.  And I'd need my chain saw which is even heavier to hold and control.  Can you visualize the potential disaster as bloodily as I can? Bending to plant bulbs?  Oh, my knees and back ache just thinking about it. I may be short, but I'm not that close to the ground. I had nice petunias this summer, as long as I replaced the hanging pot every month.  Who can't grow petunias?  Me! A friend from the pool confessed that she had artificial flowers scattered throughout her garden.  From the road they look good.  And, for those of us on fixed incomes, they are a lot cheaper than hanging gardens.

Volunteering!  All organizations are looking for volunteers, right?  No they're not.  They are looking to regularly schedule people who are willing to work a parttime job for no pay.  I tried that this summer when I volunteered at my church to run the office while the regular secretary was on vacation.  I enjoyed the job, and I love helping my church, but I ran into some problems trying to schedule the rest of my life around my "work" days.  That's not quite doing what I want when I want, is it?  I will continue to volunteer at my church.  Grace Place is a wonderful thing for me to do.  So is the Food Bank.  But, I'm not so sure I want to go to all the meetings involved with being a volunteer. I hate meetings; they give me a form of  PTSD  directly related to all the faculty/in-service meetings that traumatized me during my thirty years as a teacher. I shudder at the mere mention of meetings. Meetings are the reason I won't consider any kind of a club, no matter how much I like red hats.

Walking is free.  I could walk.  I would lose weight.  It would take up a lot of my time because I walk a sloooooow mile.  Yep, walking!  That's what I can do.  Did I mention my aching knees and back?  I think I will take a walk tomorrow.  It's too dark right now.  Guess I'll take Trixie with me for some Mommy and dog-ter time. Oh wait, not tomorrow.  Trixie will be having dental work.  Maybe I'll go without her.  No, that's cheating.  She would love to walk with me.  Oh ok, I'll walk tomorrow, with or without her. That's one hour down.....or maybe just a half hour.  Unless it rains.

I really should start doing what I had planned to do when I retired seven years ago.  I promised myself I would take day trips.  But, I haven't done much of that because those day trips can add up. Gas is expensive. If I'm parking in the city,  that's a chunk of change.  Then there's the expense of lunch.  Perhaps there's an admission cost.  Day trips can cost a lot.  I spent one afternoon taking a day trip to see the sunflowers in Harford County.  They were breathtaking!!  And free!  I took lots of pictures.  I'd love to do more things like that, so I am asking for your ideas.

What are some interesting ways to spend a day?  I don't know how many of them I have left, and I'd sure like to live each one to the fullest.

Not so amusing...domestic violence

Right now, the video of Ray Rice beating his wife in the elevator of a Jersey casino is the talk of the Facebook feeds.  This is just my observation and opinion, but men and women seem to react to it differently. Both are shocked.  But the men seem to focus on the lack of punishment meted out by the Ravens.  The women seem to focus on how could she let that happen and go back to him.  I'm not surprised by either view.

Domestic violence is a crime that our society is not always sure is a crime.  It's not a new crime, and the way it plays out in the media isn't new either.

I'm in my sixties.  I vividly remember a block party one summer when I was a kid (not my block, but where friends of our family lived).  At one point in the early evening, there was a loud ruckus from the corner rowhouse.  The men gathered together to go do their neighborly duty, stop the drunk husband from killing his wife.  The women gathered not so much to comfort her, but to make sure she was ok and make sure she didn't aggravate him again that night.  No one gave any thought to calling the police because nobody thought this was anymore than family business.  A crime to beat your wife?  No, just a family dispute.  Once the men had intervened, the event was over and the party continued. And life went on, pretty much unchanged.

In my working years, I knew too many women who had banged into open doors, had fender benders in a car that had no dents, tripped over toys that turned them black and blue from head to toe, wore sun glasses inside the workplace because their eyes were sensitive to light, or wore long sleeves and turtlenecks during hot weather because they were "cold."  No amount of makeup hid what those women were hiding;  their husbands, many of whom were "pillars" of the community, were beating the hell out of them.

If the police were called, they counseled the men like my father's generation did.  Then they moved on to "real" crimes.

I do not believe it is up to the Ravens to punish Ray Rice.  What he did is a crime, supposedly punishable by the law.  But he isn't in jail and he will play football again.  If he's good this season, mark my words, all will be forgiven and forgotten.

 In fact, as I read the shocking statements about this event on a friend's page, I am convinced he is already on the way to forgiveness:

 I would take a couple punches for half his salary...

At least Rice didn't kill anyone. Baby steps.

I am a GIRL/WOMAN and my father taught me , if you hit a man his reflexes are So fast, you ARE going to get hit back. If she HAD NOT hit him, I'm quite sure she would have not received what she put out! WOMEN WANT EQUAL RIGHTS, KEEP YOUR HAND TO YOURSELF!!!

I am not going to discuss why his wife didn't leave him.  There are too many complicated reasons why women don't leave. The fact remains, though,  none of those reasons are criminal.

These are just a few disturbing revelations about domestic violence:

---Domestic violence is the leading cause of injury to women between the ages of 15 and 44 in the United States, more than car accidents, muggings, and rapes combined. ("Violence Against Women, A Majority Staff Report," Committee on the Judiciary, United States Senate, 102nd Congress, October 1992, p.3.)
--- There are 1,500 shelters for battered women in the United States. There are 3,800 animal shelters. (Schneider, 1990).
--- One woman is beaten by her husband or partner every 15 seconds in the United States. (Uniform Crime Reports, Federal Bureau of Investigation, 1991
--- A battering incident is rarely an isolated event.

I leave you with this thought:

Battering tends to increase and become more violent over time.

                               Time will tell, Ray Rice.  Time will tell.

Labor Day Blues

When I was a kid, our neighborhood had a block party the last Sunday in August every year to "celebrate" Labor Day.  It centered at the D'Aprile's house, but was played out on the whole block.  It was a great time!  Good food.  Good friends.  Neighborhood kids roaming wild into the night.  One year was particularly memorable;  Mrs. D'Aprile went into labor and delivered a son. The party went on, even though she was at the hospital laboring away.  I used to love those parties and running wild with the neighborhood kids.  However, I still can recall that awful sense of dread that filled me when I'd go to bed.  School.  Work. Schedules. Ugh.

Labor Day is my least favorite "holiday."  What can you say about a day that signals the end of fun and the return to a regular work schedule? Yes, I know I am retired.  I know I don't have to go to work. However, once again, committee meetings will command assigned evenings on my schedule. The pool is closed, even if the day is a sunny sweltering ninety degrees.  Routine. Requirements. Short, short days.  And eventually winter.  Yep, nothing much to celebrate about Labor Day, is there?

Maybe..... Maybe not.

Barack Obama believes Americans should celebrate Labor Day because workers are the foundation of civilization:

It was the labor movement that helped secure so much of what we take for granted today. The 40-hour work week, the minimum wage, family leave, health insurance, Social Security, Medicare, retirement plans. The cornerstones of the middle-class security all bear the union label.

However, I suspect many more of you are willing to celebrate Labor Day for the same reason Bill Dodds does:

Labor Day is a glorious holiday because your child will be going back to school the next day.  It would have been called Independence Day, but that name was already taken.  


Whatever the reason, fire up the barbeque and enjoy your weekend!  

Back to School Snit

I'm in a snit.  Yes, I know I promised myself to not write when I'm feeling snitty, but this wouldn't be the first promise to myself that I've broken.  I'm in a snit, and you get to hear about it.

I am so angry with the Harford County Council that I am beside myself.  They recently voted to increase the salary of the County Executive  by 25%.  Why are they giving him such a generous raise?  Because they can.  Because they want to. Why does he "need" such a raise?  Well, dear readers, it's because he hasn't had one in a long time. I mean seriously, how can one live on $105,000 per year? And hey, they didn't pass the bill giving the council members big fat raises, so what are we complaining about?  As Billy Boniface has said, the county executive is not paid nearly as well as many neighboring county executives.

Try selling that to the teachers of Harford County. Teachers have been denied raises and step increases for six (or is it eight now?) years.  For six years their contracts have been ignored.  For those six years, the cost of living has increased, health care costs have increased, taxes have increased...why, the teachers in Harford County are earning less now than they did six years ago.  Yet, the governing board of this county pats itself on the back claiming they have done their part and it is up to the school district to manage its money.  Teachers are leaving for better paying counties.  The cream of the crop graduates avoid Harford County for neighboring districts that pay better.  Are all the teaching positions (especially math, science, and special ed) filled by highly qualified professionals? They weren't, the last I read.  That is not doing your job.  That is not how you show you care about the education of the children of Harford County.  You tell us that education is a number one priority when you run for office.  I call bull!

I will agree, however, that the Superintendent of Harford County needs to work a lot harder to distribute the money that the school district receives.  She won't do it by adding more admins to the fold.  She won't do it by cutting support staff.  She won't do it by ignoring contractual pay scales. And she sure as hell won't do it by charging kids $25 for each activity that they wish to participate in at school.  Thus the crux of Rant, Part II.

I am so angry about the fee collected by Harford County for kids to play sports and join clubs.  Was there any accounting to the public of how much money was collected and where it went?  Was there any consideration about adjusting the fee, and by that I mean lowering it, according to its effect on the students of Harford County.  Good grief, this county pays a bundle for tests and assessments - who's assessing this fee? Where's the data proving this is a good and necessary fee? 

I am a teacher.  Yes, I am a retired teacher, and every time I open my mouth to criticize Harford County, I hold my breath that they don't start chipping into my retirement benefits.  But, first, I am a teacher.

Kids need extra-curriculars!  They need clubs where they feel their interests are important.  They need sports for the physical benefits as well as the ultimate benefit - a possible college scholarship.  Seriously, how dare the school district charge kids $25 a piece to participate in a community service organization?  And don't try to bullsh*t me with the old we don't charge the kids on free and reduced lunches because they can't afford it.  Guess what!  Your middle class families can't afford the fees either.  How many kids are being denied such an important part of a public education because of this policy?  I can't answer that question. Assessment-happy Harford County hasn't gathered? released? any data.

Yes, I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore.  Oh wait.....yes I am.  Because I can't do a darn thing about it, and those of you in charge know it.

Summer Breeze

I'm sitting at the kitchen table as I write.  The sun is shining and a gentle breeze is wafting through the open windows.

It is August in Maryland.  What the hell is going on?

I don't understand this summer.  I have not used the air conditioner for days at a time.  If you know Maryland, that is not typical for the summer.  Do you remember the Twilight Zone episode with the two women in an abandoned apartment building?  The sun is melting them, water is rapidly disappearing, and they are sweating profusely as they fend off a crazed stranger willing to kill for a glass of pineapple juice. Now that's a pretty typical Maryland summer.

The grass is still green and lush.  The produce this summer, while expensive, has been absolutely juicy.  Just luscious!  The sweetest peaches ever.  The slurpiest cantaloupes.  The most tender sweet corn.  Bing cherries as big as prunes. It's a vegetarian's heaven.

Facebook friends fill their pages with descriptions of daytime bike rides, trail walks, and jogs.  In July? In August? In Maryland?  This time last year it sometimes felt too hot to leave the house to go to the pool.

What a blessing this summer has been, especially after such a brutal winter.  And what a blessing it is to be retired and free to enjoy each day to the fullest.

The Unexpected End of a Life

The news today is heartbreaking.  Robin Williams chose to end his life.  Those of us who were his fans could hardly believe this information.  There are so many rumors spread on the internet that many of my friends were actually waiting for the announcement that this was a hoax.  It wasn't.

His isn't my first experience with suicide.  My grandfather, a retired Philadelphia cop, ended his second wife's life and then took his own.  I remember his death.  I specifically remember being put to bed in my parents' bed because I was hysterical.  However, I didn't know how he died until I was an adult.  My family kept the details from me, the child, and then just never got around to telling me the truth.  I was shocked when my mother told me the news she thought I had always known.  It explained a lot.

Years ago, I had a wonderful pen pal named Keith.  He lived in California, was about my age, and he loved to write.  We wrote for years, joking about our miserable love lives, analyzing the world's problems, discussing books, movies, and TV shows.  One day I was headed out to the mall for a serious shopping spree and the mail lady delivered a fat brown envelope with a familiar return address, but an unfamiliar name. In it was a heartbreaking letter from Keith's mother and all of the letters I'd ever written him.  He had saved them.  She thanked me for being such a good friend to him.  I questioned what kind of a friend I was to not know, to not be able to help, to not be able to stop his suicide.

A friend from college, married with children. Gone.  A young teacher I worked with. Gone.  A friend from church. Gone. A young man from my early theatre days. Gone.  Too many former students. Gone.

What is it that makes some of us fight to live while others give up?  Why do some people realize they can get through the bad times, no matter how bad they are?  It's not religion and it's not love, for I have known people who've had an abundance of God and family, but just couldn't survive their lives.  What is it?

Who knows?  Nobody really.  Not even William Shakespeare who wrote many years ago about the struggle.

To be, or not to be: that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;

No more; and by a sleep to say we end

The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil.

Kids and the Single Woman

Kids are exhausting.

That's probably a strange thing for a retired middle school teacher to say.  I mean, after thirty years of seventh graders, that fact should be no surprise.  But, I never had my own for 24/7.  There's a difference.

For two weeks this summer, my tiny house held not only Trixie and me, but it was filled with two kids who were excited about attending horse camp.  The first week I had both nieces with me.  Two weeks later, Billie was back for camp with her BFF, Alex. I was up each day at 7:30 am fixing breakfast and packing lunch.  I drove back and forth to camp for twenty to twenty-five minutes ten times a week.  That's a lot of gas.  I used even more gas to drive to our evening activities; heaven forbid these kids feed and entertain themselves. Another meal - exhausting!  And the chatter!!  Non-stop.  I felt like I was cantering on Coco and Ariel.

Camp is over.  The kids have finally all gone home.  I should be resting and relaxing, but I can't.  I'm restless. The house is too quiet. OMG.  I miss them!

A day ago, I was ready to change my name and not tell anyone.  Now, I miss hearing "Aunt Barb!"  A day ago I was tired of fixing dinner.  Now, I'm trying to figure out what to have and I'm too apathetic to do anything about it.  I want to hear Alex exclaiming that my pasta is the best she's ever had. (My recipe?  Tri-colored pasta and Hunt's spaghetti sauce sprinkled with Parmesan cheese.)  I want Billie flipping out in joy because sloppy joes are on the menu with a side of Eastern shore cantaloupe.  Yes, dinner was different a day ago.

No trip to horse camp is complete without dips in the pool.  I had such fun with the girls at the swim club. When Reba and Billie were here, they got along well and we laughed a lot. I was so proud of them.  They were well-behaved and appreciative.  They made Baxter smile when they thanked him for cook-out night.  I saw adults thank him, but no other kids.  Mine made me proud; oh, but I said that already.

Yesterday, I took Alex and Billie to the pool cook-out.  They gobbled their food and raved about how good it was. They thanked Baxter for cooking and me for taking them.  But, they especially made me happy when one of the children asked to play with them.  She is a shy girl, and I think she has some trouble making friends.  Billie and Alex explained their game and she joined right in.  They invited her to eat dinner with us, and she was happy for the invitation.  When it was time to go, they walked over and hugged goodbye.  That warmed my heart.  What good, good kids.

Kids are exhausting.  And exhilarating.  I'm blessed to have two "daughters" that I keep at my sister's house (and my "almost" daughter who lives with her mom).   I'm so glad they enjoy coming to Camp Aunt Barb once or twice a year.  They give me an excuse to buy junk food.  I'm on the go instead of on the couch.  And for some reason, I sleep like a log when they're here.

                              Children make your life important. -- Erma Bombeck