I must admit, I've always been hardheaded, stubborn, obstinate, whatever you want to call it. And yes, I've often made things difficult for myself. I can think of countless situations where there was the easier, softer, way and the Megan way.
I also learned that when someone was as passionate about something as I was, that other person could dig his heels in just as firmly as I could, and in the end, there'd be lots of energy spent, but neither person convinced one iota more than they were before the discussion that their viewpoint needed adjusting.
My best examples came not from people exhorting, but from those who'd simply state their position and have their actions illustrate their words. Something along the lines of getting more flies with honey rather than vinegar combined with someone walking the walk.
I remember reading an article years ago, sometime in the late 1970s, about a woman who had cancer. What I remembered most from that article was that she wanted to go for the cure and not just treat symptoms. At the time the article was published, she had finished chemotherapy and was declared in remission. I hope that held true.
What I saw was that going for the cure versus treating symptoms could be demonstrated in any number of situations. I saw it when I was in banking, for instance, and consolidation loans were being touted as the answer to everything (unless you're a sci-fi fan, because, of course, the answer to everything is 42. But I digress.)
As bank employees, we were coached to talk up these loans and how wonderful they could be. Now, this is akin to two different patients seeing the doctor, and both complaining of a headache. If he encourages each to take two aspirin, it's highly likely that their headache symptoms will abate, but there may be two completely different reasons why the headaches occurred. In one case, it might have been the person skipped a meal; in the other, it might have been from stress. So, while the aspirin will take away or reduce the pain, that addresses only the symptom. The cure in the first case would be to eat some food, and in the second to find a way to deal with the stress a bit better.
I thought of that article when I was in banking in the 1990s, hearing this "push the consolidation loans" message. Wouldn't you want to know why people needed the consolidation loan? If they simply were not living within their means, then the consolidation loan would not be the cure; it would only address a symptom. If they had some huge event occur, like a long-term illness where the major wage earner was unable to work and the money coming in was insufficient to cover necessary expenses, but said person had since recovered and was back to earning, then the consolidation loan could help them to repay the debt more easily.
What I came to see was that the bank didn't care why people were in that situation, they simply saw a way to make money and offered the product.
I saw easily a hundred of these loans closed at my branch office, and in nearly every instance, a few years out, the people were back for another consolidation loan because they had run back up credit cards. It seems that even though in some cases they were required to close some credit lines in order to be approved and did so, they found that after a while, they wanted some gee-gaw or other, didn't have the money, and if they didn't have sufficient credit on the card they had, they opened another one. So, when they returned for the second consolidation loan, the amount of their outstanding debt was more than it had been at the closing of the first loan. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Most of these people were well-intentioned, any number of them held down responsible, high-paying jobs, but they didn't seem to understand they had created their own misery by not living within their means. The thinking had to change in order to ensure success. Most often, it did not.
I took that as a warning, and rarely acquire debt. When I do, it's for big-ticket items, and even then, it's not done willy-nilly, and I do what I can to pay it off completely or as quickly as I can.
Twenty years out from banking, and bariatric surgery is booming. I see this fraught with the same problems that I saw with the consolidation loan scenario. The surgery is NOT a magic bullet. It can be a tool in the toolbox, but it's not the cure. It addresses only one symptom.
I've not known that many people who've had the surgery, so from a scientific viewpoint, my n is not large enough from a statistical standpoint, but what I've seen is depressing. Nearly every person I've known who's had this surgery said they yes, they were ready to make a change, and do whatever it took. Yes, they jumped through the medical hoops, yes they were excited to make this change, yes it was going to be a lifestyle thing. blah, blah, blah.
In every long-term case, i.e., over 12 months out, save one, they've either gained back at least half the weight they lost, or they've stayed stuck at a weight that still has them in an obese category. Except for the one case, they all reverted to a number of their old eating habits. Eating foods that are nutritionally empty but taste good to them. Eating foods that allow them to gain weight easily. Like the consolidation loan candidates, these people were utterly sincere when they promised they would do all the steps. Well, they did do them, they just didn't continue to do them; at some point, they all stopped.
Except the one. She found herself gaining some weight and wondered why, so wrote down everything she ate to see. She determined that she was eating a lot of nuts. Nuts are nutritionally sound food, but the amounts she ate were too much for her, so she cut back on how often she ate them, and the pounds she had gained fell away.
I did not distinguish between lap band surgeries and the more invasive stomach stapling, and again my n is small.
One of my acquaintances has decided this surgery is for him. He's as pigheaded and stubborn as I am, and my concerns have fallen on deaf ears. I would love to see him succeed and prove me wrong, but I don't think it'll happen. sigh.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
First recital down!
Well, i'm glad I can say the recital went well. There were 20 of us all told. I was about a third of the way down the list, and my teacher mixed up the list pretty well. Besides piano or keyboard students like myself, there were also those learning guitar or drums. There was a 12 year-old student who played beautifully, and one of the pieces was his own composition, a jazzy, bluesy piece. One of the older students, an adult played one of his own compositions, too, a love tune to his wife, which was quite sweet.
A few of the students also sang whilst playing. I can carry a tune, and sometimes it's even the right one, but trying to play and sing at the same time has proven a bit beyond me at the moment, so I applauded most sincerely at those brave several who made the effort, even if not all of them carried the tune well.
A few needed to start over or had a moment where they clearly lost their place and had to recover, but the crowd was very kind, and everyone was greeted with applause when they were done playing.
For my part, I played both of my pieces about the best I've ever played them, which made me happy. I could finally relax afterwards and am glad that first recital is out of the way. Would I do it again? Yes, I believe I would.
A friend filmed it on her phone but has yet to forward a copy to me. She did say she wasn't sure that she had enough battery power left, so i'm not sure that I shall ever see it. Still, I very much appreciated her coming to see me, and I nearly burst into tears when she said, "I didn't come to hear you play; I came for YOU." Never underestimate the power of someone wanting to see you succeed.
The next piano player after me has been playing longer, and you could hear it by how he touched the keys. "He plays better than you," my friend said. I agreed with her, and she said, "I'm not saying that to judge you, you know," which I also knew.
Funny thing is, I've heard beginning fifers and I want to encourage them to play, practice often, and when i'm in a jam session with them, I always ask them what they can play, so that they can take an active part. And yet, I have a hard time bestowing that same kindness on myself. I'm learning, though.
A few of the students also sang whilst playing. I can carry a tune, and sometimes it's even the right one, but trying to play and sing at the same time has proven a bit beyond me at the moment, so I applauded most sincerely at those brave several who made the effort, even if not all of them carried the tune well.
A few needed to start over or had a moment where they clearly lost their place and had to recover, but the crowd was very kind, and everyone was greeted with applause when they were done playing.
For my part, I played both of my pieces about the best I've ever played them, which made me happy. I could finally relax afterwards and am glad that first recital is out of the way. Would I do it again? Yes, I believe I would.
A friend filmed it on her phone but has yet to forward a copy to me. She did say she wasn't sure that she had enough battery power left, so i'm not sure that I shall ever see it. Still, I very much appreciated her coming to see me, and I nearly burst into tears when she said, "I didn't come to hear you play; I came for YOU." Never underestimate the power of someone wanting to see you succeed.
The next piano player after me has been playing longer, and you could hear it by how he touched the keys. "He plays better than you," my friend said. I agreed with her, and she said, "I'm not saying that to judge you, you know," which I also knew.
Funny thing is, I've heard beginning fifers and I want to encourage them to play, practice often, and when i'm in a jam session with them, I always ask them what they can play, so that they can take an active part. And yet, I have a hard time bestowing that same kindness on myself. I'm learning, though.
Thursday, April 2, 2015
On a more cheerful note...
My goodness, the last few blog posts from me have been dreary! Besides the weather, death, and taxes, there has to be something else on the docket. And, there is.
As regular readers may remember, I got a new-to-me piano in August, and promptly started with piano lessons, so I could really and truly learn how to play. Bass clef comes to me very slowly, but that's better than Not.At.All. which is how it was when I first started, so my sight reading has gone from Not a Snowball's Chance in Hell, to Slower than a Dirge.
Since I'm doing this for fun and because I want to do it, I'm enjoying the process for the most part. I have gotten in my own way on a few occasions, and I still sometimes am amazed that I am not a prodigy. These are tunes I know, so why can't I just look at the notes and play? Like magic?
What I have found is that if I play a bit every day, even just 10 or 15 minutes, it makes a difference. The pieces I have to work on are short, and as previously mentioned, most are tunes I know, so it's just learning to read the music, know where to put my fingers, and when to touch the keys that's needed.
My piano teacher has two recitals a year, one in the autumn and one in the spring. I was still very new when he was lining up students for the autumnal recital, and when he asked some weeks back if I'd play in the spring recital, I surprised myself by saying yes. I am to play two numbers, and he will accompany me on both. He's doing the same for all his students in this recital. The last one was mostly for his younger students, and this one is for all those over age 12. There are quite a few of us, as it turns out, so a week from tomorrow, I shall make my debut.
I've told those who helped me move the piano into the house, in case they want to see the aftermath of their efforts. In some ways, I hope they don't come, so if I make a mistake, it'll be in a room full of people I don't know. But, if I end up playing well, I'd like for them to hear it.
When I first started my lessons, my piano teacher asked me what I wanted to play. I told him I didn't have anything specific in mind, I just wanted to be able to play. Since then, I find that the two bluesy pieces in my student book have been fun, and I have learned the first part of Maple Leaf Rag and The Entertainer. Something happens to me when I play ragtime. I feel the music really flowing from my fingers to the keys in a way it doesn't with some of the other pieces, where I play the notes but don't "feel" the music.
It's still very early days yet in my piano playing chapter, but I do think I'm in love with Scott Joplin.
As regular readers may remember, I got a new-to-me piano in August, and promptly started with piano lessons, so I could really and truly learn how to play. Bass clef comes to me very slowly, but that's better than Not.At.All. which is how it was when I first started, so my sight reading has gone from Not a Snowball's Chance in Hell, to Slower than a Dirge.
Since I'm doing this for fun and because I want to do it, I'm enjoying the process for the most part. I have gotten in my own way on a few occasions, and I still sometimes am amazed that I am not a prodigy. These are tunes I know, so why can't I just look at the notes and play? Like magic?
What I have found is that if I play a bit every day, even just 10 or 15 minutes, it makes a difference. The pieces I have to work on are short, and as previously mentioned, most are tunes I know, so it's just learning to read the music, know where to put my fingers, and when to touch the keys that's needed.
My piano teacher has two recitals a year, one in the autumn and one in the spring. I was still very new when he was lining up students for the autumnal recital, and when he asked some weeks back if I'd play in the spring recital, I surprised myself by saying yes. I am to play two numbers, and he will accompany me on both. He's doing the same for all his students in this recital. The last one was mostly for his younger students, and this one is for all those over age 12. There are quite a few of us, as it turns out, so a week from tomorrow, I shall make my debut.
I've told those who helped me move the piano into the house, in case they want to see the aftermath of their efforts. In some ways, I hope they don't come, so if I make a mistake, it'll be in a room full of people I don't know. But, if I end up playing well, I'd like for them to hear it.
When I first started my lessons, my piano teacher asked me what I wanted to play. I told him I didn't have anything specific in mind, I just wanted to be able to play. Since then, I find that the two bluesy pieces in my student book have been fun, and I have learned the first part of Maple Leaf Rag and The Entertainer. Something happens to me when I play ragtime. I feel the music really flowing from my fingers to the keys in a way it doesn't with some of the other pieces, where I play the notes but don't "feel" the music.
It's still very early days yet in my piano playing chapter, but I do think I'm in love with Scott Joplin.
Sunday, March 29, 2015
death and taxes
I have the federal taxes done, and am working on the state taxes, or I should be, but i'm writing a blogpost instead. I sat at my computer to print off some forms I need and their instructions, and then found myself wondering what was going on in Blogland.
I can't procrastinate too much longer, as 15 April is looming, and I like to have everything ready before then, so I have time to double-check everything before sending things along.
That's the tax part of things. Well, I can rant on about how insane they are, and why can't we just have a flat tax and be done with it all, but I just don't have the oomph right now.
I'm sure two recent deaths have something to do with that. One was a someone I knew only from sailing. I met him a handful of times, and know his de facto brother-in-law quite well, so I felt as if I knew this man better than I did. The last time I saw Juri, in fact, was when we went sailing. He once again borrowed my kayak when we were anchored, and later on jumped off the schooner with a few others who decided not to let the brisk water temperatures keep them from doing so.
He had melanoma, which I didn't know. He got the diagnosis right before the sailing trip, and never mentioned it. So, when his de facto sister-in-law's email arrived in my inbox to say that he was now in hospice, it took me a little while to process that. She had opened with, "As i'm sure you all know by now..." and mentioned Juri's cancer very matter-of-factly.
I've also met his wife, Diana, on the same sailing trips. They were together for many, many years, and quietly got married the Saturday after he found out he had cancer. Well, it's just easier, isn't it? Rather than have to jump through hoops telling authorities you don't need a piece of paper to love someone so dearly, and that yes, you DO have this person's best interests at heart. It's just so much easier to say, "I'm the spouse," and doors open. Why they hadn't married before was never explained to me, and I figured it was none of my business.
I passed along my well wishes, and kept them in my thoughts and prayers. Wondered if I should travel nearly 600 miles to see them, but with so many snowy days, it was hard to know when it was safe to go, or once I left, if I could get back safely.
And then came the group email, the one that let us know Juri had died. He and Diana were snuggled side by side. She was reading to him. He struggled to breathe, and then was gone.
It could have been very much worse. There could have been so much more pain and anguish. One of my prayers had been that if truly, there was nothing that could be done, could the tide please go out easily. And, easily, it went.
I was not able to make the memorial service yesterday, although some other dear folks I know were able to get there. I thought of them travelling on Friday, when I received word that another friend, this one at my last location, died from brain cancer. This hit hard because i'd known this woman for over 24 years. On Friday night, I was slated to attend a concert, which was a fundraiser for a local singer/songwriter here who has throat cancer. All monies raised were going towards his medical bills.
I'm glad I went to the concert. Many fine local musicians performed, nearly all mentioned how they met Bob or how he helped them, and it was a community in action. He was bowled over by the sellout crowd, tons of well wishes, offers of help with a multitude of things. He was one of the musicians I met last summer (mentioned in this blog post), and I often found myself in tears as the various performers sang their songs. Some full of hope, all sung with love.
I'm not sure of his prognosis. He sang one of his songs at the end, and his voice was clearer than it's been in a long time. I have to hope that his treatments worked and continue to be successful.
It was a reminder to me not to put off things, the card we mean to send, the phone call we mean to make, the kind thought or deed we can do.
And so this weekend, I cherished doing the small, everyday things, and looked to see what kindnesses I could pass along. It turns out there are plenty, if we just keep our eyes and hearts open.
I can't procrastinate too much longer, as 15 April is looming, and I like to have everything ready before then, so I have time to double-check everything before sending things along.
That's the tax part of things. Well, I can rant on about how insane they are, and why can't we just have a flat tax and be done with it all, but I just don't have the oomph right now.
I'm sure two recent deaths have something to do with that. One was a someone I knew only from sailing. I met him a handful of times, and know his de facto brother-in-law quite well, so I felt as if I knew this man better than I did. The last time I saw Juri, in fact, was when we went sailing. He once again borrowed my kayak when we were anchored, and later on jumped off the schooner with a few others who decided not to let the brisk water temperatures keep them from doing so.
He had melanoma, which I didn't know. He got the diagnosis right before the sailing trip, and never mentioned it. So, when his de facto sister-in-law's email arrived in my inbox to say that he was now in hospice, it took me a little while to process that. She had opened with, "As i'm sure you all know by now..." and mentioned Juri's cancer very matter-of-factly.
I've also met his wife, Diana, on the same sailing trips. They were together for many, many years, and quietly got married the Saturday after he found out he had cancer. Well, it's just easier, isn't it? Rather than have to jump through hoops telling authorities you don't need a piece of paper to love someone so dearly, and that yes, you DO have this person's best interests at heart. It's just so much easier to say, "I'm the spouse," and doors open. Why they hadn't married before was never explained to me, and I figured it was none of my business.
I passed along my well wishes, and kept them in my thoughts and prayers. Wondered if I should travel nearly 600 miles to see them, but with so many snowy days, it was hard to know when it was safe to go, or once I left, if I could get back safely.
And then came the group email, the one that let us know Juri had died. He and Diana were snuggled side by side. She was reading to him. He struggled to breathe, and then was gone.
It could have been very much worse. There could have been so much more pain and anguish. One of my prayers had been that if truly, there was nothing that could be done, could the tide please go out easily. And, easily, it went.
I was not able to make the memorial service yesterday, although some other dear folks I know were able to get there. I thought of them travelling on Friday, when I received word that another friend, this one at my last location, died from brain cancer. This hit hard because i'd known this woman for over 24 years. On Friday night, I was slated to attend a concert, which was a fundraiser for a local singer/songwriter here who has throat cancer. All monies raised were going towards his medical bills.
I'm glad I went to the concert. Many fine local musicians performed, nearly all mentioned how they met Bob or how he helped them, and it was a community in action. He was bowled over by the sellout crowd, tons of well wishes, offers of help with a multitude of things. He was one of the musicians I met last summer (mentioned in this blog post), and I often found myself in tears as the various performers sang their songs. Some full of hope, all sung with love.
I'm not sure of his prognosis. He sang one of his songs at the end, and his voice was clearer than it's been in a long time. I have to hope that his treatments worked and continue to be successful.
It was a reminder to me not to put off things, the card we mean to send, the phone call we mean to make, the kind thought or deed we can do.
And so this weekend, I cherished doing the small, everyday things, and looked to see what kindnesses I could pass along. It turns out there are plenty, if we just keep our eyes and hearts open.
Friday, March 6, 2015
Wedding wishes from acoss the Pond
to John Gray and Dr Chris
Remember, marriage is an institution, so now both are you are institutionalised.
Welcome to the ward!
xo
Remember, marriage is an institution, so now both are you are institutionalised.
Welcome to the ward!
xo
Friday, February 27, 2015
do we really want to know?
I've mentioned how I have wonderful neighbours, and I do. They've helped in countless ways, allowing me to borrow trailers to load up brush to take to the dump (which is mulched and recycled), or to pick up a load of coal. They've ploughed my driveway or have showed up with a front-end loader to move snow. Kind-hearted up-the-street neighbour Bob has removed more than one kill the cats brought me that I couldn't deal with very well (I've since improved, and most of the slower or dumber ones have been caught and killed, so until the snow melts, I think i'll have little to worry about there).
I do not live in a large community, and during winter, its population diminishes as many go south for warmer climes.
So, when glancing over the paper and reading the police beat news, it's easy to find names of people you know. Many of the offences are menial, speeding or driving with expired licence plates (there is no notification from the Department of Motor Vehicles here; you are expected to look at the tags every so often and realize when it's time to renew them). Some are a bit more nefarious, drug trafficking, or breaking and entering.
And there are crimes that people can forgive readily: someone going 6 miles over the limit, or forgetting to renew their licence plate sticker doesn't ruffle a lot of feathers. And then there are other crimes that people never forget, chiefly the ones dealing with abuse or killing.
We had a shake-up recently when a stalwart figure next town over was found to have bilked monies from a local charity. He'd been doing it for years, and over the last decade or so ended up with quite a tidy sum. His name is now mud and anyone who was friends with him have done what they can to distance themselves, in no small part i'm sure, to show they're not like him.
I knew of this man, but as i'm not so well connected, it wasn't personally meaningful. I felt anger at the idea of the many working folks who gladly gave to this charity to help out those in the area less fortunate now finding that so much of their gifts ended up in this man's pocket. I'm sure it's also affected people giving to other local charities, or looking far more closely.
But just this week, I read something in the paper about one of my neighbours, someone who has helped me time and again. Someone caring, nice, stable, reliable. The list can go on and on. The last time we chatted, I saw that this neighbour was a bit distracted, but everybody was. It was after that horrific early November snowstorm we had, and it unseated a lot of people's confidence. So, I noticed the furtive look, and wondered about it, but said nothing, knowing that there was some illness in the family, and perhaps that weighed on the family's conscience.
One of the things I like about my neighbours is we don't pry into each other's business. We show concern and help out as we can, but we don't infringe on someone's private life.
And so, this week, when glancing over the paper at the police report and court cases, I was stunned to see that this neighbour pled guilty to a crime that did not fit the person I had come to know. A crime that many would never forgive and even fewer would forget. It explained the furtive look because I saw that the paper also published more details about it near the back, and the arrest occurred several months back, and the accused was out on bail. That would explain the furtive look.
I didn't see it coming. I would never have guessed this in a thousand years.
I thought back to my banking days. This was a thousand years ago, when many were still paid with weekly paycheques, and although debit cards were used often at automatic teller machines (ATMs), the debit card to be swiped at the store was a very new thing, so people still wanted to have cash on hand. And any number of times, several people from the same company would pile into one car and either come into the bank or go to the drive through and get their money, make their deposits. One man I remember well was Dennis. He had dark eyes that gleamed, a killer smile, and infectious laugh. He'd often come to the drive through with three other colleagues, all women, and they'd joke and talk while the teller processed their deposits or cashed their checks. Dennis was married to Sherri, although they split up not long after I started at the bank. It was a small town where most everyone knew most everyone else, and heads shook sadly. Pity it didn't work out. Sherri came in the bank one day, pretty excited. She and Dennis were going to have a date, and she was hopeful, because she never wanted the relationship to end.
Although I didn't see them as a couple, in some ways they just didn't go together in my mind, I wished her well. It was clear she was still crazy about him.
They went out on their date, went back to her place, and he killed her. Blood was spattered all over, one fireman told us who knew someone who went to the scene.
It gave me the chills because I had seen Dennis a day or two before, looking as dashing as ever, and never an inkling that this was on the horizon.
He was found out, of course, tried, and convicted. Found guilty and got the death penalty.
All of us were dumbfounded. None of us had a clue that their relationship had a violent past until afterwards. We talked of people we knew as bank customers and how some people made you feel uncomfortable, you just knew something wasn't right, and you didn't feel safe. But how could not one of us not pick up something about this man?
I'm unsure how things will go with my neighbour. The conviction carries a period of imprisonment followed by probation.
In the swindler-next-town-over situation, I feel a detached anger. In this case, I feel very sad for everyone involved.
Do we really want to know what goes on behind closed doors? If we did, would we be able to avert some of these things from happening, or would we be simply impotent witnesses? I know I can make compelling arguments for both sides and be right.
I do not live in a large community, and during winter, its population diminishes as many go south for warmer climes.
So, when glancing over the paper and reading the police beat news, it's easy to find names of people you know. Many of the offences are menial, speeding or driving with expired licence plates (there is no notification from the Department of Motor Vehicles here; you are expected to look at the tags every so often and realize when it's time to renew them). Some are a bit more nefarious, drug trafficking, or breaking and entering.
And there are crimes that people can forgive readily: someone going 6 miles over the limit, or forgetting to renew their licence plate sticker doesn't ruffle a lot of feathers. And then there are other crimes that people never forget, chiefly the ones dealing with abuse or killing.
We had a shake-up recently when a stalwart figure next town over was found to have bilked monies from a local charity. He'd been doing it for years, and over the last decade or so ended up with quite a tidy sum. His name is now mud and anyone who was friends with him have done what they can to distance themselves, in no small part i'm sure, to show they're not like him.
I knew of this man, but as i'm not so well connected, it wasn't personally meaningful. I felt anger at the idea of the many working folks who gladly gave to this charity to help out those in the area less fortunate now finding that so much of their gifts ended up in this man's pocket. I'm sure it's also affected people giving to other local charities, or looking far more closely.
But just this week, I read something in the paper about one of my neighbours, someone who has helped me time and again. Someone caring, nice, stable, reliable. The list can go on and on. The last time we chatted, I saw that this neighbour was a bit distracted, but everybody was. It was after that horrific early November snowstorm we had, and it unseated a lot of people's confidence. So, I noticed the furtive look, and wondered about it, but said nothing, knowing that there was some illness in the family, and perhaps that weighed on the family's conscience.
One of the things I like about my neighbours is we don't pry into each other's business. We show concern and help out as we can, but we don't infringe on someone's private life.
And so, this week, when glancing over the paper at the police report and court cases, I was stunned to see that this neighbour pled guilty to a crime that did not fit the person I had come to know. A crime that many would never forgive and even fewer would forget. It explained the furtive look because I saw that the paper also published more details about it near the back, and the arrest occurred several months back, and the accused was out on bail. That would explain the furtive look.
I didn't see it coming. I would never have guessed this in a thousand years.
I thought back to my banking days. This was a thousand years ago, when many were still paid with weekly paycheques, and although debit cards were used often at automatic teller machines (ATMs), the debit card to be swiped at the store was a very new thing, so people still wanted to have cash on hand. And any number of times, several people from the same company would pile into one car and either come into the bank or go to the drive through and get their money, make their deposits. One man I remember well was Dennis. He had dark eyes that gleamed, a killer smile, and infectious laugh. He'd often come to the drive through with three other colleagues, all women, and they'd joke and talk while the teller processed their deposits or cashed their checks. Dennis was married to Sherri, although they split up not long after I started at the bank. It was a small town where most everyone knew most everyone else, and heads shook sadly. Pity it didn't work out. Sherri came in the bank one day, pretty excited. She and Dennis were going to have a date, and she was hopeful, because she never wanted the relationship to end.
Although I didn't see them as a couple, in some ways they just didn't go together in my mind, I wished her well. It was clear she was still crazy about him.
They went out on their date, went back to her place, and he killed her. Blood was spattered all over, one fireman told us who knew someone who went to the scene.
It gave me the chills because I had seen Dennis a day or two before, looking as dashing as ever, and never an inkling that this was on the horizon.
He was found out, of course, tried, and convicted. Found guilty and got the death penalty.
All of us were dumbfounded. None of us had a clue that their relationship had a violent past until afterwards. We talked of people we knew as bank customers and how some people made you feel uncomfortable, you just knew something wasn't right, and you didn't feel safe. But how could not one of us not pick up something about this man?
I'm unsure how things will go with my neighbour. The conviction carries a period of imprisonment followed by probation.
In the swindler-next-town-over situation, I feel a detached anger. In this case, I feel very sad for everyone involved.
Do we really want to know what goes on behind closed doors? If we did, would we be able to avert some of these things from happening, or would we be simply impotent witnesses? I know I can make compelling arguments for both sides and be right.
Friday, February 13, 2015
Gearing up for another blizzard
This winter has been strange. We usually get about 100 inches (255 cm) of snow a year, but it usually is sprinkled throughout the winter season. This year, we had a huge storm in November, not much in December and not a lot in January until the last week of the month, and that seemed to unleash the snow monster. We've broken records for three-day totals and ten-day totals. The temperature has run a bit cooler than normal, too, so when the snow falls, it's been pretty fluffy. Bad for snowmen, good for shoveling where the back is concerned, and skiers are in ecstasy.
I feel that I should have consulted with someone who lives in Buffalo, New York, and get the skinny on snow management engineering because many of us are running out of places to put the snow when we wish to move it.
My plow man stopped by earlier in the week to push the snow farther back from my driveway. The top of the pile is easily over 12 feet (11 metres), and I realized with a bit of a start that I really needed to roof rake.
No, it's not some weird sporting event, they truly make rakes with extension handles that you can use to scrape the snow off the roof. The one I have has two long extensions, and while it's okay, it couldn't get the entire roof unless I were to do something crazy like stand on a ladder. Um, no. SFB told me that I could get extra extensions; that's what he does, and then I would be able to reach at least most of my roof and still keep myself firmly on the ground. He also casually mentioned that his wife couldn't really lift it when he had all five extensions on it, and I wondered if i'd be in the same boat. I don't think my upper body strength is appreciably greater than hers.
But, with another 2 feet of snow (61 cm) forecast, along with 60–70 mph (90–130? km/h) winds, I felt that I really needed to attend to the snow on the roof. Today was the day; i'd go to the local hardware store and see if they had something that would fit my roof rake. And just before I was going to head out, I looked at one of the local buy/sell/swap facebook groups where i'm a member, and saw a woman's post that her husband was looking for some extra shovelling or roof raking jobs. I sent her a message, and she responded right away. They were next town over, had to drive through my town to get home to theirs, and would stop en route. The husband, Kevin, was amiable, and glad to do it. We talked price, and he said he hadn't really done this for money before, wasn't sure what to charge.
I was probably too honest, but told him I had never paid anyone to do this and would have no idea of what the going rate would be. He figured it would take him about two hours, and I mentioned a figure that was a bit higher than I wanted to go, but I also felt the highest figure i'd go was really too low for the work involved. He agreed to the price right away, so I probably did say a generous price.
He went home for his tools and came back. No standing on the ground and doing the best he could for him. No sir, he hauled his industrial ladder out of his truck, got up on the roof as quick as a flash, and for the better part of two hours cleared away the snow. He shovelled all that fell onto the deck as a result, and we were both very happy.
I got the feeling after I paid him that he maybe really needed the money and recalled the times I was a waitress and on occasion, i'd get a really big tip, which I needed to make ends meet. It appears in my current season that I have a chance to pay it forward.
And frankly, the idea that my roof is ready for two more feet of snow to land on it and I didn't have to wear out my arms making that happen? Priceless.
I feel that I should have consulted with someone who lives in Buffalo, New York, and get the skinny on snow management engineering because many of us are running out of places to put the snow when we wish to move it.
My plow man stopped by earlier in the week to push the snow farther back from my driveway. The top of the pile is easily over 12 feet (11 metres), and I realized with a bit of a start that I really needed to roof rake.
No, it's not some weird sporting event, they truly make rakes with extension handles that you can use to scrape the snow off the roof. The one I have has two long extensions, and while it's okay, it couldn't get the entire roof unless I were to do something crazy like stand on a ladder. Um, no. SFB told me that I could get extra extensions; that's what he does, and then I would be able to reach at least most of my roof and still keep myself firmly on the ground. He also casually mentioned that his wife couldn't really lift it when he had all five extensions on it, and I wondered if i'd be in the same boat. I don't think my upper body strength is appreciably greater than hers.
But, with another 2 feet of snow (61 cm) forecast, along with 60–70 mph (90–130? km/h) winds, I felt that I really needed to attend to the snow on the roof. Today was the day; i'd go to the local hardware store and see if they had something that would fit my roof rake. And just before I was going to head out, I looked at one of the local buy/sell/swap facebook groups where i'm a member, and saw a woman's post that her husband was looking for some extra shovelling or roof raking jobs. I sent her a message, and she responded right away. They were next town over, had to drive through my town to get home to theirs, and would stop en route. The husband, Kevin, was amiable, and glad to do it. We talked price, and he said he hadn't really done this for money before, wasn't sure what to charge.
I was probably too honest, but told him I had never paid anyone to do this and would have no idea of what the going rate would be. He figured it would take him about two hours, and I mentioned a figure that was a bit higher than I wanted to go, but I also felt the highest figure i'd go was really too low for the work involved. He agreed to the price right away, so I probably did say a generous price.
He went home for his tools and came back. No standing on the ground and doing the best he could for him. No sir, he hauled his industrial ladder out of his truck, got up on the roof as quick as a flash, and for the better part of two hours cleared away the snow. He shovelled all that fell onto the deck as a result, and we were both very happy.
I got the feeling after I paid him that he maybe really needed the money and recalled the times I was a waitress and on occasion, i'd get a really big tip, which I needed to make ends meet. It appears in my current season that I have a chance to pay it forward.
And frankly, the idea that my roof is ready for two more feet of snow to land on it and I didn't have to wear out my arms making that happen? Priceless.
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