Follow me through a particular day of not long ago. It starts as usual. Awake for the first time at 6 am. My phone wakes me, then. I let the phone wake me again about 8 am. Then, I rise to eat my breakfast, dress, and do all of those things that people do at the beginning of their day.
DEAR READERS. I WANT TO APOLOGIZE FOR NOT GETTING MY BLOG PUBLISHED, THIS WEEK. APPARENTLY, PREPARING TO TRAVEL TO TEXAS TO SEE THE ECLIPSE, KEPT MY TRAIN OF THOUGHT AWAY FROM SENDING OUT THIS ARTICLE. BUT, HERE IT IS – LATE. THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE.
Actually, I don’t remember it being a dirty steel town. Although it was a “working man’s town,” it was the short- and narrow-sightedness of the people who lived there that I found difficult to deal with. “Working man’s town.” Mesa farms. steel mills. foreign workers. businesses to support workers. Union Street – lots of bars, and pleasure “palaces.”
Except for the city librarian. I worked at the library, and she was incredible. She had worked at the Denver Library before being hired to be the city librarian for Pueblo. She taught me such a lot. Was such a mentor for me. Allowed me to do stuff that none of the other kids were allowed to do. Like catalog books. Prepare the cards for the card catalog (no computers, then). Even helped me get a grant for money to go to college. She believed that if you were planning to have young people working with you, it was your job to teach them how to go to work. And, she did.
Every day, during the morning and afternoon, Miss Knox would send one of the kids (high school or college) across the street to bring coffee and pastries or pop and cookies for the entire staff. We would have our break all together in the staff room and discuss stuff. World stuff. She believed that we should have an opportunity to get to know each other as people, as well as talk about real-world things. She helped us become citizens of the world. Great woman!
I do remember that when Centennial (my school) played football against Central (the south side school), we were always creamed! Their kids were the sons of the steel workers and were MEAN! And, BIG! We never had a chance. Our kids were the sons of bankers and office workers. Moms were often home makers and not business people. The teams were dead in the water the minute they walked onto the field.
I did not usually go to football games. I had no social life in high school. I wanted to be a teacher. I knew that from the time I was about twelve. And, to do that I had to have enough money – me. My parents couldn’t and wouldn’t have paid for me to go to college. So, it was go to school. Go to work for as many hours I was allowed (for 85 cents an hours). And, go home and study to get good grades. I ranked 13th in a class of 333, and received only one scholarship from Western for tuition but not fees.
My father always said that there was no way I could go to college because my name was Bundy. Figure that out. I couldn’t. But, I’m guessing that I thought, I’ll show you that I can. I think that when he and mom took me to Gunnison with this huge trunk they had purchased for me (and, that I still have), he understood that, at least one of his daughters could and would go to college. And, succeed. Being a college graduate was not a prestigious thing for him. He knew we would need to work and expected us to be blue-collar workers in an office or at the ordinance depot east of town. He did not live long enough to see me graduate, though. I was the only sister to graduate from a college. My other sisters were successful in their jobs. One of us chose to be a stay-at-home mom, raising two boys – Great Boys, by the way. Before her boys graduated from high school, going on to college, she worked as a professional seamstress, and other jobs. Today, she is an incredible quilter! I think we all could be called independent and successful – just what our father wanted for us.
The city council and administrators were getting the idea that the city thinking had to change. It was getting better by the time I left for college. And, we had a community college and a state college (that became the Southern Colorado State College (and, maybe, university, by now). That did not, however, impress the general public with their thinking. Although, I think they were politically,
“progressive” Democrats.
But, ask me if I’d ever go back there to live. NEVER, unless my family was destitute (and there was a job that I could do)!
Be Safe and Be Well
The Cranky Crone
Thoughtful comments are appreciated.
Some things I want to talk about just won’t work for a full article. So, I’ve decided to do a few vignettes of things that I either dislike and that really bother me. Here they are; a warning – some of them are a rant! Well, all of them, really.
Do you make one or more resolutions in January? Lots of people do. I do. I think of them more as “plans for the year” rather than “resolutions,” though. Earlier this year, an event occurred that caused me to make an additional plan. Not a resolution, but a plan that I’m hoping I can fulfill throughout this year and far into the future.
My experiences with Lions International began on the Eastern Plains of Colorado. I was school superintendent in the small district of Agate. We were a school district that saved children. Parents would bring their troubled children to live in our district; and because we were small in number, we could provide a more concentrated time for the students with their special needs. Students stayed in school; they weren’t able to cut classes, or just not appear for school. This seemed to make a difference. We graduated students from high school who would very likely not make it through the system in their other schools.
Katie (my visiting Border Collie) is, I think, the smartest dog I’ve ever known. And, I’ve known a lot of dogs. Her vocabulary (English, of course) seems to increase each time I see her. You know that I believe most dogs are far more sentient than we humans think they are. And, she is a great example of that.
If you read the BLOG of last week, you will know that, just last night, I announced to the rock club folks that I would not be producing their annual dinner for vendors and volunteers, next February. After eight years of planning and producing the banquet to thank all of the people involved with the annual show and sale, I’ve decided that this eighth year will be my last.
A Short Era Ends
A Haibun
Once every year, the rock club I belong to holds a show and sale at a local Fairgrounds. This year, we celebrate sixty years of being an organization! For years – each year – a thank you dinner is held for the vendors who come to sell their wares. Included in the dinner, are the club volunteers who help to do the work of putting on the show and sale. The show and sale is held the last full weekend of February. In 2017, the club allowed me the pleasure of planning the dinner. This opportunity occurs once every year, usually on the last Friday of February. I remember the first years that I planned the dinner; it was held in the basement of the venue where the show and sale was held. What that meant is that food needed to be ordered and brought in from a caterer. A caterer that did not deliver. I remember picking up the meal from the local restaurant, transporting it in my Suburban to the fairgrounds, and getting it into the space we were going to use for the dinner – of course, with the help of club members. The restaurant food was great. Chicken, vegetables, rolls, and all of the things that go with those items. We also had drinks – coffee, water, etc. Without a liquor license, we had nothing with alcohol in it.
Once every year
Volunteer-vendor dinner
Once every year
Dessert was always a huge cake decorated with club logo, as well as the year defining the years that the club has been functioning. Table coverings were the club colors. Flameless candles, gems, ropes of blue, silver, and gold were spread over the tables. A change came requiring that we find another venue for the dinner. Wrigley’s Chicago Bar and Grill (owned by Paula) turned out to be the best location. The venue has a large banquet room, large enough for our gathering. And, there is no charge. So, the next years were all scheduled to be held at Wrigley’s. Again, the table decorations enlivened the room. The full-sheet cake was decorated for the occasion. Attendees enjoyed the activity; maybe, as much as I enjoyed the planning. Then came COVID. Full-sheet cakes were no longer allowed by the State’s health department, so cupcakes were substituted – individually decorated by the baker (Cakes by Karen).
What cake for this year?
What chocolates for the table?
What decorations?
It’s been eight years of pleasure planning the dinner. But, now I am old. It is time for someone younger to take the reins and plan the dinner. He or she will inherit all of the decorations. The flameless candles that must have the batteries loaded and, then, removed, each year. The small plates for chocolates – if the new planner decides to have chocolates. Leftover table coverings – of course, more may need to be purchased. All of the decorations. But, never – never glitter. Paula does not want to clean up glitter from the tables and floor.
Who will plan next year?
I hope someone steps up soon
To plan this event.
And, then, there is my car. I love my Chevy Tahoe. I love to drive but driving these days is only around town. And, only during the daylight hours. No more night-time driving for me. Of course, that means that I have to be very aware of time. If I am somewhere away from home and darkness falls, I’m in trouble. Also, no driving on long trips. Daughter #1 has kindly been the driver for any long trips. She also drives me around town as needed, as has my good friend, Rita. There are so many other critical machines in my home. But, I’ll leave them for another day. And, this is the day.
As I sat with my leg pump for an hour this evening, I thought about all of the machines that help me do my work and provide health care for me. The leg pump has a real name. It’s a leg and ankle compression massager. At least, that’s what I think it’s called, but I can’t find its paperwork.