“All
The Time In The World?”
07/16/14
As
always, to my dearest friends, and ever-constant, loyal readers,
When I was very, very young, the calendar year was
fixed, immutable, carved as if from stone.
There was the school term (Which—by the way—I loathed,
thinking it a colossal waste of time.) I
may as well have had A.D.D., as I could not be kept to my desk, preferring-instead
to look out the windows. All my report
cards from that time seemed to echo the same sentiments.
And then,
there were the blissful summers; of dawn-to-dust playing, discoveries and
adventures. The imagination could be
expressed a thousand, different ways.
Once, I found and empty cardboard box which would
just fit into my wagon. Into this, I cut holes for windows, and spent a
pleasant afternoon down by a creek in my own mobile home! I even think I took a
nap there, lulled to sleep by the rush of the creek waters.
But, all the summer’s fun and games ground quickly
to a halt when—at fourteen—I began my first ever job; I worked in a grocery
store after school on Fridays until 10:30 p.m., and all day on Sunday, from
7:30 a.m. until 11:30 or twelve, when we had to mop and clean the store.
Usually, I was out front, sacking groceries.
All for the then-princely sum of $1.10 an hour. A tip of a dime was considered generous.
I did earn a couple of things, which were but an
overture to jobs and employment later:
- Sixteen hours on my feet conferred a kind of exhaustion that twelve hours of play never could.
- From the ire of my customers, I quickly learned to never pack a loaf of bread or carton of eggs in the bottom of the paper bag!
- More importantly, it proved to be my first introduction to ‘management ‘of a limited—yet profound scope of authority beyond, even, that of my Dad’s. At this store, the assistant manager was nice, who ‘ruled’ with a benign hand.
The
store manager—in contrast—ran the store with whip, and threats, constantly
urging us to hurry, or be replaced.
I
barely can remember his face now, but it seemed lined and etched with pure meanness.
Thus began a thirty-four
year series of job moves, and career changes; on several occasions, I worked
two jobs at once, sleeping not at all, or, never, ever having a day off.
Salaries—especially in
Florida—have never been what I’d call munificent; but, one did what one could…or
had to do, particularly when it became time to support myself.
I remember being so broke,
that I had to roll pennies to get just-enough gasoline to get to the bank to
cash my check.
But my priority (then
and now) was to keep a roof over my head.
One year, I went without food in the house, eating a free sandwich at
work at night. In the morning—in the cafeteria line, I could get two scoops of
scrambled eggs, and a piece of toast for $0.20.
As
long as I had a place to come home to…
My entire, little,
clockwork life crumbled-around me in 2002.
I’ve already mentioned a stupid, botched and unnecessary dental
procedure left me in an upward spiral of agony I could no longer bear; and I
began to have uncontrolled panic attacks with severe depression.
After I had tried to
return to work (unsuccessfully), I realized that—somehow, someway—I needed to
file for disability.
Having heard of others
unsuccessful applications, I hired an attorney to file for me.
One morning, I found
myself before a Judge, with a Court Reporter to his left, a Supervisor from D.
C. and F., and—to complete the circle, a Florida Employment Specialist.
I answered the Judge
calm, slowly, made eye contact, and did not once vary from the truth.
After an extensive
question and answer period which riled my nerves, the Judge asked if I would
ever be able to work again.
The Florida Employment
considered the matter, and then stated that….no, I would not be able to work.
And what a strange
feeling it was to be told to not work!
In my employment history, I had applied numerous times for jobs I never
got. But to be told I would never be
able to work again? At first, I exhaled nervously;
in a way relieved, and in a way labeled some kind—to me—second, or third-rate
citizen.
That was in 2002.
What I could not have
foreseen would be the cavalcade of subsequent illnesses which only added to
being unemployable.
There was that year of suffering
before I had my appendix removed at the very last moment.
Along the way, other ‘conditions’
developed such as diabetes type II; Fibromyalgia; Lupus; CFS; CPS; crushed
vertebrae, and broken ribs from falling;
orthostatic hypertension; depression, anxiety, and panic attacks;
agoraphobia. The need for oxygen
24/7. And—most recently—incipient blindness
in both eyes.
My sleep is disrupted
in a thousand ways; and the PTSD and Headaches pretty much sums up the list.
And I am dependent on
number of medications merely to remain in place.
When I had occasion to
contemplate old, past summers, I remember a balmy, summer night in Texas; it was
late, but there were no curfews.
Some of the neighbors
and my Mother and Father gather-together to perhaps discuss issues of the day;
I could just seem them out on the breezeway of the house, with Dad’s cigarette
glowing in the semi-darkness.
The neighborhood kids
and I rode our bicycles down sidewalks, and across driveways, the sky-above an
inverted inky bowl of twinkling, yellow stars.
Suddenly, we found
ourselves amid an enormous swarm of lightning bus, whose little light merged
with the stars above.
I was nine years old.
And yet, if pressed to
try to remember that one day, that singular situation that made such an
ethereal impression, I would have to say that night was the stuff of which pure
wonderment is made.
Life doesn’t get any
better, or sweeter than that!
Perhaps your most
favorite day might be the birth of a child, or grandchild.
And I would kindly ask
you to look inside to find your all-time favorite day…ever. Please share it
with us in the comment section, below.
Now that I have just
passed my sixtieth birthday, I realize that I have more time to look back than
to look forward.
How much ‘time’ I have
left…nobody save the Creator Spirit knows.
So I think it would
behoove us to wisely use the time that we do have left. Maybe being kinder, more thoughtful, more
understanding. Maybe, to forgive
ourselves, even as we would forgive others.
Please know that I wish
for you no pain, no sense of want, need or despairing. May your kind hearts be filled with hope and…love! And, blissful nights of restorative sleep, as
ever watched over by gentle angels.
Since I have still
having problems with my computer, please, please forgive me should I—in error—print
it over (and, over) again.
Please
know that I think about you always, and that I love you dearly!
‘Zahc’/Charles
