How Time Really Does Fly By

The bigger lesson for me as I noted all the joys I found in my life this past year while being free to enjoy and appreciate them, is that time really goes by so incredibly fast.  Yesterday, I sat down to ask myself what I learned by giving gratitude for a year.  In the back of my mind, I thought of how fast the year went.



Ironically, this morning I read that Patti Blagojevich, the gov's wife, felt the same way.  She said the year has, "has flown by so quickly."  Lucky for them. 
She also said that her husband missed the big things, like their daughter passing her driving test.  But he also missed the smaller things, like breakfast with the kids before they leave for school.  Ordinary moments. 



Ordinary moments are what I've discovered in this exercise in gratitude. You can't pinpoint them until you actually look for them.  You don't realize how wonderful the breeze feels against your face while you're sleeping until you make a genuine effort to appreciate it...the ordinary moments.  There's an atitude adjustment that starts to take place. I don't drive past mansions along the lake and envy those families any longer. I'm grateful to have a comfy house of my own with a working shower!  I buy fresh flowers to place in the house as a peace offering.  Thank you for being my shelter.  I know it's corny.

When I look for and give gratitude for those ordinary moments, it eases the pain when crap hits the fan.



Patti said the gov. is learning to play the guitar.  That's nice.  I should bring out the music books and practice the piano.  However, I was disgusted by his free time.  Why are we, as taxpayers, paying for someone to learn to play the guitar and teach history lessons to prisoners, and keep up with his jogging?  Workers are needed everywhere to teach history to less fortunate children, to clean bathrooms, to work in soup kitchens, to clean highways. What happened to chain gangs?


You've taken everything from this man.  His family, his license to practice law, his humilty.  Why sit in prison?  Let him go home and WORK for the state of Illinois.  For FREE. 

Living Life Like I Just Got Out of Prison...One Year Later

It's been one year since I watched Blago walk through those prison doors.  Doors open, he steps inside, and my head spins.  The reporter declares that former Governor Blagojevich is going to be an old man when he gets out in 14 years.  An old man.  How can that be?  He's MY age. 


Blago spoke the night before he left for prison on how grateful he was for everything.  I promised myself right there that I would be grateful that I wasn't Blago.  I wanted to remind myself that being free was something I couldn't take for granted.



Most people had the same reaction when I mentioned this blog.  "That's really a stupid idea."  I know.  It's not like I ever liked the guy, or gave him a second thought.  I could never pronounce the name, so I called him, "Gov. blowfish." I threw a kitchen towel at the radio when I heard he was elected
governor.  "Can't anyone see he's an idiot?"



So now I have to step back and ask myself what this past year has been like for me.  Has this exercise in gratitude been a stupid idea after all?  Ironically, yesterday put it all into perspective.



I woke up late, since I didn't have to work.  The sun was shining through the curtains, and the birds were singing.  My window was open and a cool breeze was coming through.    Stop and think about this. 



a.  I woke up late.  You don't get to wake up late in prison...with 4 pillows!


b.  The sun was shining through curtains.  No windows in prison cells.


c.  My window was open, so I could hear the birds.  In prison, there's an alarm or bells to wake you.


d.  I woke to a cool breeze.  Seriously.  That won't happen in a prison cell.

I had a great cup of coffee and fresh blackberries with my oatmeal.  Later, I took the dog for walk, but since it was so beautiful out, I walked over to the woods for a change of scenery. 

a.  Who has fresh blackberries in prison?   (I spotted them in the grocery store and asked myself that same question, and that's why they were in the fridge.)

b.  I was free to change my usual walk with the dog.  I took a different route.  New scenery.  When you exercise in prison, it's the same view day after day after day.



I swear this is the truth.  The mailman dropped off my new CD from Amazon.  My son was shocked that I still order these instead of downloading.  Anyway, "Stevie Ray Vaughan's Greatest Hits, " came in the mail.  I took it to the bathroom, turned on the hot shower, and Stevie rocked the house.  I even touched up the grey in my hair. 

a.  A long, hot shower is the one luxury I no longer take for granted.
b.  To play my favorite music as loud as I want is pure joy.
c.  I can wash that grey right out of my hair!  (Sorry, Blago.)



I was home when my son came in from school.  He was eating a snack, while  we caught up on things, and I drove him to his tutor. 



a.  I will always be grateful for this simple joy.  Imagine being unable to see my children.   Imagine not being there in person to have a heart to heart talk. (I believe this former governor is a stronger man than I've given him credit for being.)



After dropping off my son, I drove to the grocery store.  Aisle after aisle of choices.  I ended the night at a department store, picking out a new pair of shoes.



You get it, I know.  But it's reminding yourself that gets tricky.  When I was at the grocery store, it wasn't a chore anymore.  I was genuinely grateful for all the choices I had.  I didn't even care that I couldn't afford the expensive shoes.  I was just happy to treat myself to something new for spring.  You don't do that if you're Blago.  You don't do anything I did in ONE day when you're not free.
 

I promised myself that I wasn't going to be watching Blagojevich leave prison on television 14 years later, and wondering what I had done with my own life.  I've completed the first course towards a degree in a specialized field that I work in.  Not so sure I would have been motivated to do this before.  I also paid off credit cards.  The very last thing I wanted to know is that Blago had saved more money cleaning toilets than I had saved. 



I also forced myself to go out and do things because I was free to.  My husband and I went out on New Year's Eve this year instead of watching the ball drop on TV.  We had a blast.  Going out to lunch has become my new obsession.  I love to linger.  Love to try new restaurants. Because I can. 



Was it watching a man my age, a man with an almost identical background as mine, walk into prison for 14 years, or was it the idea that in 14 years I would be an old lady that caused me to freeze?  Both.  I just don't want to plod along and not be grateful for my freedom.

Being A Parent Is Like Riding A Bull

This past week was incredibly tough for my family.  There were times when being behind bars, away from it all, sounded really good.  An act of horseplay, ended up with a young man needing 2 staples on his head.  My son wasn't the kid with the injury.  One of the last calls you ever want, is the call from Dean of Students.  "Your son is in my office."  Oye.  Run. 

The night before, I went in to say goodnight to my son, and found him feeling sad about something.  "My girlfriend and I are...taking a break from each other. "  Oh, sweetheart.  Your first break up.  I was the person whom he confided in.  He trusted me.  I was able to touch him.  Hold his face.  Rest my head on his chest.  Talking to him over the phone from an isolated cell would have crushed me. 

The call from the Dean's office came the next morning.  Though not intending to injure the other boy....with a highlighter.... it happened.  Everyone agreed.  Not acceptable behavior.  One week suspension.  One week.  No school.  No friends.  No baseball.  I drove my son home.  I looked at him sitting there in the backseat.  Being a parent is like riding a bull.  My only goal is to hold on.  I'm not letting him throw me off.  Where's my strength? 

Home schooling is a great tool.  Try it.  Teaching him world history and discussing the industrial revolution was more fun for me than him.  Keeping up with math and chemistry meant was a different story, but a tutor helped.  I cheated.  The point is, I wasn't thrown off. 

The rest is up to my son.  He has to face his coach, the team, the students.  Rumor has it that some boys on the baseball team are trying to set him up so he can face another suspension.  That gives THEM more playing time.  Welcome to the real world, my friend.  My son is playing with kids who put the "I" in team. 

I have to get back to my routine, work, groceries, flat tire.  My son is back to his routine.  We're together. 

Let It Snow...and Snow

The snow everyone's been anticipating is finally here.  We ran around yesterday taking care of errands that we knew shouldn't be done on a day that's expected to be a pain in the neck.  Everyone was complaining. I had to drive downtown, but I'm glad I was down there when it was rain and slush, not ice and snow. 

When I got back, I took the dog for quick walk.  He was loving it.  Jumped up and down, playing in the snow.  I stopped to realize how ridiculous it is to be sitting inside watching the snow fall, when I can be out enjoying the moment.

My son came home early from school.  Ahhh...Freedom!!  He didn't stay inside.  He went out to play in the snow.  That's living right.

Facing Down My Fear

Last week there was a tragic story of a bright, 21 year old woman, on her way home from work.  Her car spun out of control and she died in the wreck which was so bad it shut down the expressway.  Her father was quoted in the paper reflecting, "I'm so glad I had a chance to tell her every day that I loved her."  Every parent's worst nightmare.

Imagine the irony for me when a few days later I went to a visitation at a funeral home for the elder parent of someone I know.   My husband and I couldn't find a parking spot anywhere near the place.  I was stunned to see a line of young people wrapped around the building....twice.  I stopped to ask if we were all visiting the same person.  No.  A young woman turned to me and said, "I don't know if you heard about the accident that shut down the expressway the other day.  This is for that girl."  My god.  Her parents were somewhere in that funeral home.  They were living through their worst nightmare.

My son will be turning 16 in a few months.  I've been making all sorts of excuses to avoid going to the DMV to get his permit so he can learn to drive.  I'm the giddy parent who stays up late at night looking forward to the phone call that it's time to pick up my son.  It's not an aggravation for me.  It's always a relief.  "At least he's not driving."  I freeze every time the phone rings early in the morning.  Is my daughter safe?  Did she have an accident on the way to work?  I know.  It's just me.  I do have reason to fear this.  My younger daughter had an accident on her way to high school.  She looked down to change the dial on the radio and slammed into a parked car on the side street.  The owner came out and told her he was calling the police.  She told him, "Oh, don't.  I've just called them."  She lied.  She had called us.  That gave us the opportunity to pay the owner gobs of money to repair his car and avoid legal troubles for my daughter and a spike in the insurance.   She lied.  Not smart.  But, I always thought she'd make a great attorney.   She lives in the city now.  She takes public transportation.

My older daughter called me in the middle of the night once when she was in high school.  The middle of the night.  "Mom.  I hit a police car and we're going to have to pay."  How's THAT for a call.  My husband and I drove to the scene of the accident.  On the way I was kicking myself for leaving my passport at home.   Damn.  That was the only thing keeping me from leaving the country.  My heart dropped as we approached the site.  HUGE lights were up as police were examing the scene.  What's happening?  Is my daughter ok?  I saw my old car that she was driving.  The minivan was crushed.  I had just put $700 into repairs.  Oye.  It turns out that she didn't hit the police car.  The police car hit her as she was turning.  He was answering a call for, "shots fired, " and was going down the street at a reckless speed.   She was wearing her seat belt.  Her car was pushed so fast, she nearly hit a lamp post, but she managed to hold on to the steering wheel.

Now it's my son's turn to send me over the edge.  I mean it.  I'm too old for this.  There's a funny You Tube video of a gal who says, "I ain't got no time for this."  That's how I feel.  Yet, the other day, I put my big girl panties on and asked my son if he wanted to try driving with me.  He looked up and quietly pulled on his jacket.  We went to a nearby cemetary.  I know...if anything happens, we don't have far to go.  Ha ha.  But I let him drive around the path.  He drove in reverse.  I told him to think of the geese in the road as people crossing the street while texting.  They're not looking at you.  It felt wonderful to be able to help my son grow. 

Blago's daughter turned 16 this year.  He wasn't there. I'm grateful that I can be there for my son.  I'll take him to the DMV, not because I want to, but because it's his right of passage as a young man, and I can be there to soak it in. 

Guilt By Association

Holy cow!  I've been following the downfall of former Congressman Jesse Jackson Jr.  If I were to leave a theatre in which the movie was about Jackson and all the other lives that have been brought down due to their association with Rod Blagojevich I would say, "What a great story.  What a great movie.  Who is the brilliant writer?"  Jackson illegally used campaign funds to treat himself to crap like Michael Jackson souvenirs.  $750,000 down the drain.  The investigation began once his name was in the mix of people who went knocking on Blago's door when Obama's Senate seat was open.  There's nothing wrong with suggesting you're the right replacement for the job.  You just can't show up at the door with a bucket of money.  It doesn't look right.  Elvis memorabilia might have worked. 

I'm grateful that the only people who don't want to be associated with me are my children.  But can you imagine if the very sound of your name being linked with someone else causes an F.B.I. investigation, a look into your tax returns, a snub, a cold shoulder, a chuckle,  a roll of the eyes, a deep sigh? 

What's in a name?  Honor.  Jackson's father, the Rev. Jesse, worked his whole life to serve his community.  You can argue that he did it for show, etc.  You can argue that he preaches family values, yet has a second family on the side.  I personally believe that after Martin Luther King died, Jackson saw an opportunity and ran with it.  Now all the good work and accomplishments mean nothing.  He'll be associated with his son's name.  The guy who bought Michael Jackson's fedora. 

I wonder what Blago is thinking as he reads the story.  "Serves him right."  "Ha ha.  I'm not the only one who was nailed."  I wonder what his children think.  "Mom.  Can we use your maiden name?"

Returning Home After Guilt Trip Is Sweet

I've been working away from home for the past two weeks.  In a way it's like prison.  You're free, of course, but you leave everything behind. I felt guilty since my husband had all the responsibilities of taking care of things here.  I was incredibly sad to have missed my son's basketball games.  So many little things come up that you can't attend to, because you're just not there.  I couldn't help my son look for his lost gift card.  My daughter needed help with her car. My mom didn't have someone to take her to the doctor's office.  It's not vacation.  It's literally a guilt trip.

Getting back the other day was sweet for me.  So nice to hug my son who was sleeping.  Grateful to help my mom with simple errands for an entire afternoon.  A visit with my father-in-law who has moved to an assisted living center was comforting for both of us.   There was a last minute change in my son's basketball practice schedule.  No problem.  Happy to pick him up early.  Grateful that my husband didn't need to leave his office to do this.  I took my son to the grocery store with me last night.  We were just happy to be together. My husband and I caught up on our favorite t.v. show.  Simple things, they say, are the nicest.  They're right.